Her father maintained his serious face despite the verbal assault just behind him. "Ginny. Who gave you this broomstick?"
"…That's my business."
"Ginny," he said, more forcefully. "Who. Gave. You. This. Broomstick?"
"I told you, Dad. That's my business."
Her father rubbed his face. "Ginny. Whoever gave you that may have bad intentions. He may be trying to hurt you. He may be trying to control you." "You don't know what you're talking about. This is my business." She looked at the first gift Harry had ever given her. "And that is my broomstick."
Mrs. Tonks watched the exchange, making notes on her parchment.
Her mother smacked her mug down on the counter. "Don't think you're getting that back, young lady! Now you tell us everything you're hiding, understand!"
Her eyes hardened, even as her hands started shaking. "No."
"Ginny, dear." Her father's voice strained calmness. "It's not impossible that you might get the broomstick back. But we have to know who gave it to you so we can talk with them, and understand their intentions. You understand that, don't you? If you believe whoever gave you the broomstick wouldn't harm you then you've no reason not to tell us who it is."
"No." She shook her head.
"Ginevra Weasley!" her mother shrieked. "You tell us now or you're on double chores, and grounded until you do!"
Ginny clenched the skirt of her dress with her fists. Tears started forming at the edges of her eyes. "No."
"Ginny—" her father tried again.
"No."
Her father seemed to deflate. He sat back on the table and looked towards Andromeda. Something unsaid seemed to pass between them, and her father gave a slight, apprehensive nod. "Okay. Andromeda here has a few more questions for you."
She looked towards the raven-haired witch.
The healer leaned on the table. "Miss Weasley. Do you have a boy friend?"
Her eyes widened. Her mind blanked. "Wha—?" She felt her cheeks flush. Then she felt something else. The incessant nudge of a legilimency probe.
John climbed The Burrow stairs to Ginny's room.
His mum had just got back from the Dursleys. Her red cheeks and puffy eyes suggested it hadn't been a happy reunion. Apparently, his brother still lived there, and was as ignorant as ever. Hagrid had turned up earlier that morning and was taking him shopping.
His parents had been distressed by the possibility of someone called Harry manipulating Ginny. From that, he'd managed to force a confession of his brother's existence, one month earlier than in the last time-line. From there, it hadn't been much work to get things moving. Ginny was being flushed of potions, enchantments, and mind magic, and it shouldn't be too long before he had the real Ginny back.
For a moment, he'd been afraid his brother had somehow also come back in time, but that seemed not to be the case. Not that he couldn't have dealt with it if he had. Harry would've only been a fourteen year-old weakling with two years of magical education, and two years of prison, after all. But if not his brother, then who was the Harry the broomstick spoke of?
He arrived at Ginny's door and pushed it open.
The sight that greeted him made him feel ill. Ginny was rope-bound to her bed. Her face was chalk white, and a foul smelling bucket stood by the bed. Her head, previously staring up the ceiling, turned to look at the opening door.
Her eyes narrowed. "You," she all but hissed.
"Hi, Ginny," he said, not keeping eye contact. The continued venom vanished the pit of his stomach. "You don't have to worry. You'll be better soon."
"Better!" She croaked, coughed, and a stream of green liquid dribbled from her mouth; it flowed into the bucket. "There's nothing wrong with me!" She struggled on her bindings, but her attempts were weak. "Ginny, if you're under someone else's influence then you wouldn't know it."
She stared at him. "It was you, wasn't it? You took my broomstick. That's why you stayed over last night."
"Ginny—" he began.
"You! You!" She sputtered and coughed, and more green liquid poured from her mouth. She stopped struggling and collapsed back. "Get out."
"Ginny."
"Get out!"
She flailed again, and an unseen force hit him square in the face, knocking him back and onto the floor. His face stung. Accidental magic. Ginny was getting unstable. He scrabbled backwards, out of the door, and safely around the corner, trying to ignore the continued stream of insults hurled at him.
He reached and closed the door. He trembled. What had happened that required Ginny to be tied down? It must have been something severe. Maybe Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would tell him.
"…And then Andromeda was thrown backwards, off her chair, and slammed into the cabinet. Apparently Ginny has a fully built mind-scape." Arthur Weasley had dark circles under his eyes. "That shouldn't be possible. We've…" He shifted, and wrung his hands, "We've never taught any of our children occlumency. Couldn't afford the tutors, see? And mind-scapes are advanced."
John perched on a stool and watched the unfolding drama of the Weasley household adjusting to their only daughter cursing their names while suffering real pain and discomfort on their orders. His face was still swollen from Ginny's outburst.
Molly Weasley bustled around the kitchen, cleaning and re-cleaning pots by hand, making far more noise doing so than was necessary. Her eyes were red-shot.
Fred and George sat off to one side, bent over parchment, mostly ignoring the exchange.
Percy wasn't. "There's no way a child like Ginny could build a mind-scape — it's dark magic I tell you." Molly wailed.
"Percy!" Arthur snapped. "It isn't necessarily dark magic. And just because you don't understand something doesn't automatically make it dark."
.
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