Alexander was standing in the kitchen, cooking dinner for himself and his girlfriend, Anastasia. Where was his slicing knife? He frowned. Fine, he would just use his chef's knife for the onions.
"Alex, could you come here real quick and take a look at this? It's important!" he heard his girlfriend call urgently from the living room.
So he turned the stove down to a simmer and walked out of the kitchen. What could be the problem? Hopefully just a spider. A girl fearing a spider was almost a stereotype, but it made Anastasia look cute and he could save her while, in reality, not doing anything. Part of him suspected that she was just playing it up for effect…
When he walked in, he saw a book on the coffee table.
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. It had just been released and Alexander had read it in only a few days. The Harry Potter books had been part of his childhood back at the orphanage. He still remembered how he and Anastasia - she had been an orphan there too - had read them together.
He was lucky that his best friend, the girl he had grown up with, had become his girlfriend. And as soon as he had enough money to buy a diamond ring, he would propose to her.
She was the love of his life, after all.
He turned the corner and saw Anastasia. But something felt wrong. She was just standing there with an empty look, holding something behind her back.
"Come closer and close your eyes."
Her voice seemed hollow, her eyes almost empty.
"Ana, what's wrong? You're acting strange…"
"Please, Alex, just come here. Don't you trust me?" she asked, looking into his eyes.
Heaving a sigh, he decided to do what his girlfriend asked.
So he stood there, eyes closed, wondering what surprise Anastasia was hiding behind her back.
Thud.
A blinding pain exploded in his abdomen.
Thud. Thud.
He stared down in disbelief at the knife jutting from his stomach… and at Anastasia's hand wrapped around the handle.
She seemed in a frenzy. Just as Alexander realized what was happening, she pulled the knife out to stab him again. The pain was overwhelming, but he managed to shove her away.
So much blood was flowing out of his abdomen.
As he stumbled back, still not understanding what was happening or why his girlfriend was trying to kill him, he tripped over his own feet.
She was over him again - knife raised, eyes vacant.
The blade came down towards his head.
Then everything went black.
Ginny opened her eyes. Tears were streaming down her face. She vaguely heard Harry's voice nearby, asking if she was okay. But none of that mattered.
Anastasia had killed her?
Was that why she didn't remember her death during her time in the void? Had she suppressed the memory?
"Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good! The wand has really chosen you," Ollivander's voice reminded her of where she was.
She rubbed the tears out of her eyes.
She looked down at the new wand in her palm - the warmth of it still tingling in her fingers as dark, twinkling sparks formed at its tip.
Yew and Thestral tail hair, thirteen inches.
Ollivander had said that only a witch or wizard who was capable of accepting death could master a wand with Thestral tail hair. Ginny hadn't been sure what that meant back then. Now she knew…
She had still insisted on using Thestral tail hair, since she had been able to feel the magical connection to the hair ever since she had acquired it almost a year ago.
The wood was still Ginny's old wand wood. It was strangely symbolic - the shell of the original girl holding a new core… one connected to death at that.
"What a combination. This is truly my masterwork!" Ollivander sounded excited. "Thestral tail hair is the most unstable and difficult substance to use in wandmaking. Potent, but tricky to master. And yew is a rather notorious wand wood - often found in the hands of villains and heroes alike… not even speaking of the other wand like this…" he muttered the last part more to himself. He was, of course, speaking of the Elder Wand, which also had Thestral tail hair as its core.
"I expect great things from you, Miss Weasley," he said to her enthusiastically.
Her magic was a mix of both the original Ginny Weasley and Tom Riddle. Both had bonded with yew wands, so she had guessed that it would also be the perfect wood for her. And she had been right.
The sparks finally faded.
She still didn't know what to feel. Her emotions were a mess.
"Ginny, how are you?" the voice of the worried boy beside her finally registered. Ginny had taken him with her to pick up her new wand, but the moment she touched it, the memories of Alexander's death came back. Like a gate had been opened.
There were other people around her.
She shouldn't show any weakness or her true feelings.
Something icy settled in her stomach and her expression smoothed into something blank and hollow.
Anyone could betray her at any time. Anyone. Her new parents, her brothers, her friends… Harry.
It was so easy to imagine such a situation. They could find out about Hermione, about her not being the original Ginny, about Alexander - hell, even her confrontation with Professor Croaker or any of her other manipulations…
Anastasia hadn't even needed a reason… Well, maybe she had one, Ginny didn't know about, but did it matter? Anyone around her could snap - with or without motive - and turn on her in an instant.
"Ginny?" Harry was obviously totally confused by her. She was fairly sure this was the first time he had ever seen her cry.
Wasn't this the first time Ginny cried at all? No, there was the time she first possessed this body in a bathroom and the ritual last Hallowe'en…
"Ginny, are you okay?" Harry sounded really worried.
She reminded herself that Harry's worry was part of the lie, just like everything else about her. Harry didn't love her, just the fake persona, Ginny had created for him and the rest of the world.
'Get a grip of yourself!' she reminded herself as she tried to numb her feelings with Occlumency.
"Yeah… I just remembered something I tried to forget," she mumbled, hearing him inhale sharply. He obviously misinterpreted her words, thinking she was talking about Hermione's death. Not that she cared at the moment.
'Oh, so this was the reason I could see the Thestrals?' she thought dully. Alexander had died…
Harry took her hand in his.
"I'm here for you, Ginny," he gently told her. "You are not alone."
Her heartbeat calmed down. She didn't like how much control Harry had over her without even realising it.
She pulled her hand out of his, without thinking much, but froze when she saw a flash of hurt in his eyes.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled while looking down - and for once she was telling the truth.
She was sorry for killing his best friend Hermione and his future wife, the original Ginny, sorry for traumatising and manipulating him, sorry for making him fall in love with someone like her.
Part of her thought that he would have the right to stab a knife into her chest, unlike Anastasia…
Then she felt his arms around her and her inner turmoil quietened.
The whole world fell away.
"I don't understand what is going on, Ginny," he mumbled, his arms tightening around her - safe and warm. "But I'm here for you, even if you push me away."
'Since when had my Harry become such a smooth talker?' Ginny thought while burrowing her head into his shoulder.
She realised she didn't want to lose everything again.
A few days ago had been her birthday. Being together with her new parents and brothers - eating cake, getting presents, listening to the twins' bad singing - had been so nice. It was something Alexander had often dreamt about as a child. She didn't want to abandon this.
A sob escaped her and Harry's arms tightened even more around her.
She also didn't want to lose Harry. How strange…
Nobody would take this life from her - especially not Anastasia.
Then she realised they were still in Ollivander's shop and reluctantly slipped free of Harry's arms.
"Don't worry, Miss Weasley. The bonding between a wand and a witch or wizard can be quite emotional in some cases. This is completely normal," Ollivander tried to assure her, but Ginny didn't like the twinkling in his eyes - it reminded her too much of Dumbledore.
The old man would probably hear about this… remembering Hermione's death would be the best cover story, but what if Dumbledore asked for the memory later? She would have to figure that out later. Best not to be too specific.
"What happened, Ginny?" Harry asked gently.
"I… I don't really want to talk about it," Ginny mumbled - not giving any details.
Then she pretended that she was getting a grip on her feelings, facing Ollivander.
She paid the agreed-upon amount and left with Harry.
Diagon Alley was crowded with families doing their summer shopping for Hogwarts - it was mid-August, after all. Children laughed, parents smiled and witches and wizards went about their business with careless ease.
It was way too bright for Ginny.
She wanted to be alone…
'Get a grip of yourself! Nothing happened. You just remembered something, nothing more,' she told herself - though the words felt empty.
"Do you want to be somewhere quieter?" Harry asked softly and Ginny looked up.
She thought that she had hidden her facial expressions well enough… since when was Harry able to read her like that?
Whatever…
She just nodded mutely and let Harry led her through the crowd to the Leaky Cauldron.
His hand felt warm, enveloping hers. Since when were they holding hands?
Oh yeah - she had taken his hand when she had pulled him out of Ollivander's shop. For a moment she thought of withdrawing her hand, but she wanted to feel the warmth a little bit longer, even if it was a lie.
So she simply let Harry guide her to his room at the Leaky Cauldron, which he had been occupying since the court hearing over Black's last will.
Tom made a joke about Harry bringing a girl to his room, forbidding them from doing anything naughty. Ginny didn't react, still lost in thought, though part of her quietly enjoyed the way Harry's ears turned red as he ushered her upstairs.
She sat down on his bed when they reached his quiet room, watching him fidget. He clearly hadn't thought any further than bringing her here. Being alone with her in his bedroom was probably mortifying for him.
"Erm…" Harry attempted to break the silence, then faltered, completely at a loss.
Should she tease him a bit? Why not.
"Are you going to do something naughty to me now, Harry?" Ginny asked shyly, looking at her feet, using Tom's words. "It's my first time, so I don't know what to do…" she continued, pretending to be embarrassed.
"What!? No! I would never…" he began and she looked up to see his beet-red face.
Then she burst out laughing, unable to keep the act up any longer.
Confusion flickered across his face, quickly followed by indignation. Then a soft, indulgent smile formed on his face.
"I'm glad you feel better, Ginny," he whispered, as she slowly stopped laughing.
Did she feel better? Maybe…
"Sorry," she replied, still wheezing, "I couldn't help myself."
After a while, silence filled the room again, but this one was much less awkward.
Ginny looked around and saw a broom-shaped object wrapped in paper. It was so obviously a broom…
Did Harry want to gift her a broomstick? Maybe a Nimbus or Comet? She did realise that there had been no present sent for her birthday from Harry.
"What is that?" she asked, pointing at the wrapped broom.
"Ah, this…" he said, taking it and holding it out to her. "I wanted to give you your present later today, but… Happy birthday, Ginny," he grinned awkwardly.
Ginny found herself genuinely curious about what kind of broom Harry had chosen for her - she hadn't used Legilimency on him, since she actually liked surprise gifts. If it had been from the twins, it would probably have been a book transfigured into something broom-shaped.
So she quickly tore the wrapping paper away.
A Firebolt…
He was giving her a Firebolt. While it wasn't ruinously extravagant, it was still very expensive.
There was even a small plaque bearing her name, her thumb lingering over the engraved letters.
Why was Harry giving her such an expensive present? For a moment, part of her wanted to look for some hidden motive, but her paranoia wasn't that far gone yet. He was a fifteen-year-old boy with a mountain of gold and she was the first girl he had ever fallen in love with.
The price of a Firebolt was almost a whole monthly wage of her dad… her father. When had she begun calling Arthur Weasley Dad? Stupid sentimentality - if Arthur Weasley knew what she had done to his real daughter…
"Ginny?" Harry asked nervously, trying to get her attention. "I thought you would like it more… You looked very happy when you were flying on my broom before… I hoped we could fly together too."
She shouldn't be seen as greedy or as taking advantage of Harry by others. That could become an unnecessary problem.
"Harry," she began, looking up from the broom. "This is far too expensive to be a birthday present…"
"No! Please accept it. It counts as your birthday present and the Christmas present, I forgot."
"But… I'm not friends with you to get costly things from you. The book about the Potter family and the Singing Portrait Box were together maybe seven Galleons, while this broom costs maybe three or four hundred Galleons. Don't you see the problem?"
"Ginny," he said earnestly, "I really want to give you something special."
Should she accept it? A broom would be useful, but she hardly needed the fastest one available… Her Mom - Mrs Weasley, dammit - would probably also make a scene.
Then she had an idea.
"How about you give me your Nimbus 2000 as a present and you use the Firebolt?" she asked. "You need a fast broom more for Quidditch anyway," she tried to convince him.
"But… but your name is already on the broom…" he argued weakly.
"Please, Harry," she asked, looking up at him.
"Okay," he managed to say with a weak sigh, after a moment of hesitation.
Ginny put the Firebolt carefully away and hugged Harry. Such a generous boy deserved a reward after all.
This way, she wouldn't seem like a gold-digger. She also didn't really need a super-fast broom. A Nimbus 2000 was more than enough.
Later, she left with her new broomstick - shrunken in her pocket.
Harry tried to hide it, but he still felt conflicted about the whole thing. On the one hand, he wasn't allowed to give the girl he loved the expensive broom. On the other, he was excited that he would now be flying a Firebolt during Quidditch games and training.
There would be no Dementors at Hogwarts next year, since Sirius Black was dead, so Harry wouldn't lose his Nimbus anyway to the Whomping Willow. Therefore Ginny could take it instead. That thought made her feel strangely pleased as she boarded the Knight Bus to return to the Burrow
"Welcome to the Knight Bus, young miss," Stan said with a grin. "Where to today?"
Ginny hesitated, catching herself just before she could say 'Ottery St Catchpole.'
Next year would already be the beginning of the Goblet of Fire year and she had no idea where Voldemort would be during the summer…
"One ticket to Little Hangleton, please," Ginny said, handing Stan eleven Sickles.
She intended to switch Riddle Senior's bones to sabotage Voldemort's little ritual. It might be unnecessary if everything went according to plan next year, but better safe than sorry.
Well… a little grave-robbing had never harmed anyone. Probably.