Harry Potter and the Unlikely Gryffindor

Dear Miss Ginerva Molly Weasley;

First, I will say that you and your family have my deepest condolences over the loss of your parents. I wish the timing of their death had not been so inconvenient. Please know that it pains me to write this letter, but this must be done.

Upon your parents' deaths, you, Ginerva, have now become the sole female heir to the Weasley name. Since only one of your brothers, Bill Weasley, is currently engaged, and your other brothers are currently unaccounted for, it has fallen upon you to deliver your family name into the future.

I will personally select a half-blood gentleman of high standing for you. One who will treat you as well as your late father did your mother.

Tomorrow shall be the first drawing, and it is then that you will know his identity.

Sincerely yours;

Rufus Schrimegour
Minister of Magic
Wizengamot Chairman

XXX

Madam Pomfrey sighed as she checked on her last patient. She had had to deal with accidental poisonings over her years as head nurse at Hogwarts. But never before had there been self poisonings en mass. The causes had all been those damned notices that had been sent out noon of the previous day.

Pomfrey dabbed a wet cloth over the forehead of the slight red head. Her skin was still clammy and cold, and she still had the look of unnatural sleep about her. But she would pull through. Her friends had found her just in time.

She had a good mind to go to the Ministry herself and drag Scrimegour here to see what his idiocy had done. But McGonagall had insisted that she stay here and attend to the constant flow of students coming in and out of the hospital wing. Friends and family had filtered in to the hall, checking on loved ones and dropping off tokens of their condolence. But no one had come to visit Ginerva Weasley.

Pomfrey sighed as she got up to check on the others. She thanked her lucky stars that the potions they had used were not particularly toxic. They had been easily reversed by simple antidote potions. But now the Ministry of Magic was threatening to send all these girls to Azkaban for a full month for attempting suicide. What did the Ministry expect? Surely they didn't think that these girls would welcome this change with open arms?

What ever their thoughts were, Pomfrey couldn't divine. Rufus had been touted as level headed, and tough on Dark Wizards since his appointment to head of the Department of Aurors. But lately, his decisions were falling into the category of puzzling. They were not the decisions of a level headed Minister. They were becoming more and more like those of a favoritist. Perhaps he was anticipating the end of the war, and wanted to gather support to keep his position.

After all, what is the need of a General when the war is over?

XXX

Diagon Alley was quiet. Most of the shops were closed, their owners fleeing in fear of Voldemort, and the Minister's latest decree. Weasley's Wizard Wheezys was no exception. The Weasley twin's shop had been closed for nearly three weeks, since their youngest brother had disappeared. But neither brother had much mind for their work. They had to bury their parents, and worry about their little sister.

Fred and George sat on the couch in their flat above the store. They sat at each other's backs, staring at the letters that were piling up on their table. Neither had the heart to open up their mail after the first two letters. Ginny had been quiet all summer. Definitely not her usual self. They had suspected that her silence had something to do with the death of Dumbledore. Even Fred and George were pretty quiet themselves when they heard. But now their parents were dead, killed by their older brother turned Death Eater.

Fred sighed, echoed by George. That would be enough to drive any little girl over the edge, they supposed. Almost at once, both brothers got up from the couch. Their baby sister needed them desperately. Each took a few of their better prototypes, stuffing them into their pockets, layering their coats on with scarves. They still kept their Gryffindor house scarves, and wore them with pride, even though they clashed violently with their red hair.

Each disapparated in twin bursts of imploding air, leaving their flat quiet in the winter evening.

XXX

Cold. The world was a cold place today. Autumn green eyes fluttered open, taking in familiar surroundings. There were no guests or well wishers in the hospital wing, just full beds and dark walls. The first thing that Ginny felt was disappointment. That bloody potion hadn't worked! Then again, it would be a horrible irony if the youngest of the Weasley clan committed suicide.

Looking to the left, she could see that Pomfrey had turned her light out for the night. That would probably mean that it was later than midnight. But just when she was about to surrender herself to a sleepless night, she heard something coming from the far side of the hall. If silence made a sound, it was deafening. But she could just barely make out the shadow of the tapestry on the far side of the hall as it moved. Strange.

Ginny lifted the covers off of herself, noticing that her gown was still damp with sweat. Slowly she set her feet on the floor, not knowing if she had enough strength to stand. She lifted herself to her feet, walking as quietly as she could, punching the tapestry where she thought the hider's head was. Ginny was rewarded with a twin “Ow!”

Ginny grabbed the edge of the cloth and pulled it out of her way, her expression stern as she saw Fred and George nursing sore noggins. Apparently when she had hit Fred, his head had been sent back to crack George on the forehead. It would have been comical if she wasn't in such a foul mood.

“Hi sis,” they said in unison, their trade mark grin cracking their long faces in two. Ginny was hard pressed to keep her scowl, but it slipped, and one corner of her mouth quirked upward, sending the twins into a fit of giggles. “You didn't think your big brothers were gonna leave you here, did you?”

Ginny sighed, not strong enough to stay angry at the two knuckle heads. “I can't leave,” Fred and George's faces sank, looking at each other before they returned their eyes to her. “If I leave, the Ministry will throw you two into Azkaban,” the twins looked at each other again. Ginny sighed, walking slowly back to her bed where the letter from the Minister still lay. Fred and George followed, reading the letter she handed them.

“Bloody hell, Ginny! You're only fifteen,” Ginny shushed both her brothers, her eyes darting over to Pomfrey's office.

“I'm not the youngest, by far,” both twins turned a slight shade of green. “That's why we're all in here...” Ginny trailed off, folding her arms around herself. Fred and George reached out and hugged their little sister.

“Then we'll take all of you out of here,” Ginny stared open mouthed at George. How? They would all get caught and thrown into Azkaban. But then again, prison was preferable to what the Ministry was forcing them to do.

Fred took out his wand and cast a sound proofing charm on Pomfrey's door. George woke those girls who he could, and carried the rest with a levitation charm. After raiding the linen closet for warm blankets, George, Fred and Ginny started filing the girls out through the secret hall behind the tapestry. “Where will we take them all,” Ginny asked, keeping her hand on the wall for support.

“Where else,” the twins answered in unison, smiling their crooked smiles as they closed the door, leaving the hospital wing empty.

XXX

The situation was fast descending into chaos. Hera was coming out of what ever stupor the Dementors had put her into, but Madame Pomphrey's potions still had her asleep. But what had the entire room spinning, was the confession Snape had made when threatened by Moody. Harry, Ron and Hermione had been forced to the back, near Hera's bed; while Moody had rounded on Severus, his wand at the dark wizard's throat.

Tonks' hair had gone from drab brown to a rather poisonous looking toxic green, her face livid. Snape knew that it had to come out sooner, or later, what he had done to Remus. He even fancied the notion that Tonks would kill him right there out of spite, but the Order was not like that. One side of his mouth came up in his trade mark floppy sneer.

“What did you do with his body,” Tonks nearly ran Snape through with her wand.

“His body rests in the chamber where he died. I put a stasis charm on him after,” the words seemed to drip like molasses, each one hitting Tonks like a punch to the gut.

Tonks' hand shook as she fought with herself not to do anything that she would regret. Finely, all she could do was turn around and storm out of the hospital wing of Durmstrang. Snape watched her go, folding his arms over his chest.

The silence was broken when Hera's voice chose that moment to come through her potion induced sleep. “No,” her voice was raspy and harsh, making her words sound like croaks. “Please...don't make me...no. Don't touch me!”

Snape actually seemed to wince as Hera seemed to relive her time among Voldemort's minions through her dreams. It seemed to go on, her repeating the same thing over and over again. The ritual seemed to suppress everything that was good in the person, leaving them behind a glass wall to watch as they preformed vile acts in the Dark Lord's service. Snape didn't know exactly what had transpired while Hera was in Voldemort's chambers. But hearing her now, he could only assume the worst.

The questing looks from the others forced the answer out of him. “Voldemort had her in his personal chambers for nearly an hour before Harry showed up.” If possible, Ron's face turned even greener. What he would not divulge, was who Vodemort was using to train Hera with. The screams had gone on for an inhumane amount of time, before Snape felt the rumble of the Avada Kedava curse.

“What the hell was that slimy git doing to her,” Snape didn't answer Harry immediately, his eyes still on Hera as she cried in her sleep.

“Teaching the Unforgivables,” his answer brought Moody's wand back to his throat. Snape didn't resist, he only looked away. “I don't think Voldemort would have ever let Hera marry Draco. He seemed obsessed with her from the moment he knew she had returned.”

“And who supplied that little bit of information,” Moody asked, pressing the tip of his wand so that he nearly speared one of Snape's tonsils.

“I did...” the room fell silent again. “I wish now that I had not.”

“You should have thought of the consequences of your actions if you were to be captured, Severus,” McGonagall was nearly shaking with anger, standing so stiffly that she might have had a solid piece of wood for a spine.

“That was not my meaning,” he sighed slowly, bringing his dark eyes back to Hera. “Had I known what he would do to her, I would have left her alone. She didn't deserve this. And she will have to live with my mistake for the rest of her life.”

Ron, Harry and Hermimone stood at the back, utterly speechless. Severus Snape had never admitted guilt in all the years they had known him. Never once had he expressed anything remotely similar to remorse. It was almost frightening, these new emotions from someone they had assumed had a heart of stone. His eyes, which always seemed empty, seemed utterly devoid of any real spark. No fire, no indignation, no hate. Nothing.

Perhaps this change had come about from his extended time with Voldemort. But perhaps it had come about with his short time with Hera. She seemed to be able to worm her way into a person's heart. Even when that person resisted violently. Harry had not been happy that Hera had been instructed to stay at the Burrow. He never wanted to look at another Malfoy for the rest of his life.

But as she always did, she proved him wrong. She had proved everyone wrong, even herself on occasion. Harry along with Ron and Hermione had assumed that with the name Malfoy, Hera would have their indigestible disposition, their nose in the air sneer that made everyone feel like they were smaller than ants.

But Hera was not like that. Sure she could prove infuriating at times, but she was essentially the exact opposite of what every Malfoy was. She was kind, generous, if some what eccentric. She was a southern girl; polite, likable, and sweetly stubborn. She was a wonderful friend. Loyal and true. A Gryffindor at heart.


Hera opened her eyes, coughing as she struggled to move. She was still physically weak, her mind bogged down in mud. But she remembered her dreams. The first with Dumbledore, and the second as his revelation had caused her mind to back away. Back behind the veil of warning thunder. The first thing she noticed, was that it was deatly quiet. She could hear faint sobbing from out side the door, but other than that, no one spoke.

Lifting her head, she saw that Severus had been backed against the wall, a strange man in a dirty over coat and messy blond hair pinning him there with his wand. Something had happened during her time out, but what could have caused this? “What are you doing,” Hera slipped off the bed, stumbling slightly as she overestimated the strength of her legs. “Leave him alone,” she declared, putting her arm around Ron's shoulders as he and Harry helped her to stand.

She tried to get Severus to meet her gaze, but he refused to look at her. His eyes settled for a point over hear head, and never budged. “That's a piss poor way to treat a man who saved my life,” she hissed, locking her crystalline eyes on to Moody, who only turned his body half way to her, regarding her with his mechanical eye.

“Saved you,” Moody nearly laughed, but it came out as a harsh bark. “Girl, you wouldn't be in this situation if he hadn't tipped the Dark Lord off that you had returned,” he seemed almost to smirk as Hera stopped in her tracks, her eyes locking onto Snape. “He knew what Voldemort wanted with you, and still he let it happen,” Snape snapped his head back to Moody. He was spinning his own confession into a false admission.

But before he could retort, Moody stunned him, letting his body fall to the floor in a heap. “Bloody dark wizard,” he mumbled, leaving Diggle and Dodge to carry Snape to another bed. Moody limped over to Hera, bringing her eyes to his with a forceful hand on her chin. “You would do well, girl to stay well away from him. Or else you might be spending the rest of your life in Azkaban, as well.”