Chapter 1
The rain drummed on the cabin's roof, the deep and constant sound of raindrops hitting the old wood creating an unsettling atmosphere. The wind blew fiercely, and through the cracks in the windows, drops of water filtered in like golden threads. A storm was approaching. Inside, the light was faint, only a few candles flickering on the wooden table, struggling to stay lit in the midst of the darkness. Two members of the Order, soaked from their guard shift, rested on an armchair, exhausted but alert. Another boy was sprawled out in one of the hallways, sleeping on a worn-out sleeping bag. The rest of the rooms were too silent and dusty, too lonely to be desirable. They had the rule to stay within the line of sight of at least one of their unit members.
Ginny, with a serious face and furrowed brow, reviewed the scrolls laid out before her, her fingers moving quickly over a map stained with moisture, as she tried to ignore the fatigue taking over her body. They had been on the run for a week, moving from one place to another, unable to settle in a safe spot or return to base. Her dark, wrinkled clothes, which had seen better days, blended with the gloomy atmosphere of the room, and her long hair, gleaming in the candlelight, was tied in a messy braid.
Luna sat silently on the other side of the table, looking as calm as ever, though her face reflected a seriousness not seen in her for some time. She was leafing through an old tome, her fingers gently brushing over the pages for the umpteenth time. They had found the book months ago, in the forgotten library of a particularly unpleasant coven, during one of their missions. It seemed harmless, neither particularly thick nor large, but something in its content had caught Luna's attention, and since then, they had begun to devise a plan that gave them a glimmer of hope.
“The last ambush was here, and with the information we have, we can assume they have a camp around here,” Ginny said, drawing a small circle and a cross with a piece of charcoal. Her voice was firm, but contained an urgency that didn’t go unnoticed. “If we can cross this flank before dawn, we should be out of their reach by the time they reinforce the patrols.”
Neville, sitting across from her, frowned. His face was weathered from years of fighting, but his eyes still held a stubborn glimmer of resolve. A few weeks' worth of beard hid half of his face. He leaned in to get a closer look at the marked map, revealing a bandaged hand.
“It’s a rushed plan, Ginny,” he said cautiously, his tone filled with concern. “I think we should turn back. This place isn’t as safe as we thought. Yesterday, a couple of Death Eaters were spotted five kilometers from here, and we’re running low on supplies. We should take the brooms and flee.”
“And when will we be this close to the north again? They know there’s something we want in that direction,” Ginny countered. “Next time we have the road this clear, it may be too late.”
Luna nodded softly at her friend's words while crossing something out among the numerous notes in the tome. Her blonde hair hung straight, damp from the humidity filtering through the walls. A candle near her flickered, struggling to stay alight.
“The nargles always show up before a disaster,” she murmured. But her tone was not the dreamy one of old; there was something in her voice that made Ginny stop her thoughts and look at her. Luna also looked up, as if just registering her own words, and both of them turned to look at the door in unison.
Before Ginny could respond, a dull sound echoed in the distance. The heads of the others turned toward the door, and silence fell like a heavy weight.
“What was that?” whispered a voice from the shadows of the cabin. The Order member who had spoken stood up silently, wand already in hand. Almost instinctively, the others did the same.
Neville was the first to act, extinguishing the candles with a soft whisper and plunging the room into total darkness. The only source of light was the moon, filtering through the skylight in the roof and the gaps in the windows, casting the room in a pale, cold glow.
Ginny stood up silently, her heart racing. She had learned to read the signs of danger, and every fiber of her being screamed that time had run out. A groan echoed from outside the cabin.
“They’ve found us!” Neville yelled, just as the first explosion blew the door and part of the wall into pieces.
The room filled with smoke and debris. Shouts of curses and spells echoed in the air as the floor trembled beneath Ginny’s feet. Her wand flew immediately into her hand, and she cast a Protego quickly, deflecting a green light beam aimed at her. Across the room, she saw Luna fall to the ground from the blast's shockwave, but to her relief, she saw her get up again, though with difficulty.
“Neville, get the others out of here!” Ginny shouted, casting a Petrificus Totalus at a Death Eater who had barged into the cabin. The man fell to the ground with a thud, but others immediately took his place. Ginny kept casting spells and curses, barely breathing between each word, covering the retreat.
Neville didn’t hesitate, accustomed to his training with him leading the retreat and Ginny and Luna closing it. The bodies began to pile up at the entrance as the two friends held their ground. Ginny knew not everyone would make it. The cabin wasn’t built to withstand attacks like this, and their Order unit had too many inexperienced members—surely the ones on guard were already dead.
A flash of red light crossed the air, and Ginny dove to the ground to avoid it. When she lifted her head, she saw Luna standing in front of her, wielding her wand with lethal precision, focused as she cast shield after shield, one after the other, as they shattered. One of the members with them had fallen.
"Ginny, you have to head north," Luna said, her voice barely audible amid the roar of battle.
"I’m not leaving you!" Ginny replied. Luna had already turned toward the main door, conjuring a barrier that temporarily halted the Death Eaters' advance.
There were bodies scattered across the room, but only two belonged to their unit. The others had managed to escape, or at least, that’s what Ginny wanted to believe. Outside, the sounds of fighting faded into the wind and the rumble of spells. Ginny knelt beside one of the bodies, trying to find signs of life, but there was no pulse. She didn’t even remember his name, only that he had been one of the recent recruits. Luna, however, gently pulled her away without looking at the corpse.
“There’s no time,” Luna said, her voice firm in a way Ginny rarely heard. “You have to go, Ginny.”
Luna looked Ginny directly in the eyes, as if she knew exactly what she was thinking. Even though she knew casualties were inevitable, every death stung; it was a personal failure as captain of the unit after the death of her previous captain, and the one before that. Luna took her hand, guiding her toward the table and gathering the important scrolls, while Ginny hurried to set the rest on fire.
"You’re the fastest, strongest, and most resolute member of this unit. But if you don’t move forward, all of this—everything we’ve sacrificed—will be in vain. Ginny, do it for them. For the lives we can still save."
Luna’s words, spoken softly, cut through Ginny like a knife. She knew there was no time for arguments. With a lump in her throat, she grabbed the tome Luna had been reading, tucking the scrolls and map her friend handed her against her chest. A blast shattered the windows, and the wooden shards that had covered them flew through the air.
Ginny and Luna ran toward the clear exit. The rain hit them. The fight was escalating.
"Go! We’ll cover you!" Luna shouted, Neville’s back immediately against hers. Shields and curses ricocheted between their unit and the Death Eaters closing in on them.
Of the ten members who had started, only three others were still fighting alongside their friends. Ginny’s heart ached, but she still ran toward the only uncovered path.
"Accio broom!" she shouted. Ginny’s Cleansweep 13 flew toward her with a sharp thud against her hand. Without stopping, she jumped onto the broom and kicked hard against the muddy ground, lifting into the air as the roar of battle faded behind her. However, the shouts and flashes of light still haunted her mind. The guilt was unbearable, but she couldn’t stop. Not now.
The storm intensified, and the Death Eaters didn’t waste any time following her despite her friends' efforts. Ginny sped up her broom, dodging the spells exploding around her. The wind and rain made it difficult to see and fly, but it also hindered her pursuers. Ginny adjusted her grip and shot upwards sharply toward the clouds, hoping to lose them in the darkness.
She accelerated the broom, pushing it to the limit, and found comfort in the thought that her friends had fewer Death Eaters to fight. It was the last thought she gave them before focusing entirely on her flight.
The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Without thinking, she veered right, narrowly avoiding a green light beam that grazed her knee, leaving an intense burn on her skin. The voices followed shortly after, and the silhouettes of several Death Eaters appeared behind her.
The storm erupted with fury. A lightning bolt illuminated her pursuers: three figures on brooms faster than hers. But fortunately, none of them had spent years playing as a Chaser or were the future Quidditch star of an entire generation.
The skies lit up not only from the lightning but also from the spells exploding around her, colorful sparks she dodged with sharp turns and calculated movements. The rain pounded relentlessly, and her numb fingers struggled to stay firm on the broomstick. Ginny continued climbing sharply, heading for the clouds, hoping to get lost in their thickness.
The scene was painfully familiar: fleeing from a battle, from the ruins of what had once been her home. The Burrow, Hogwarts, her Order unit… all destroyed. A shiver ran down her spine as her resolve fought to remain intact.
She emerged above the clouds, where the moon shone in a clear sky. For a brief moment, silence took over the world. The shouts and spells continued, muffled by the distance, but up here everything seemed simpler. For a second, Ginny considered leaving it all behind, stopping the fight. After the deaths of her family, Ron missing… She remembered the tome and the papers hidden in her robe, the sacrifices of her friends. Her resolve returned with the strength of a fire; she had lives to recover and futures to offer. The moment the first Death Eaters broke through the cloud surface, Ginny dove sharply.
The Cleansweep groaned under the pressure as Ginny sharply veered left, narrowly dodging a new red light that crackled dangerously close to her face. Her breath came in constant gasps as she weaved between spells, pushing her old broom to the limit. The Death Eaters followed, their wands glowing with lethal bursts. Ginny knew she couldn’t face all three at once, not without a strategy, and though it wasn’t her strong point—preferring to tackle problems head-on—she was quick on her feet and had learned a trick or two from George’s lessons back at the old Order headquarters.
She dropped sharply into a dive, the air whistling in her ears and her wet hair sticking to her skin. A mocking laugh echoed behind her. They were gaining confidence. Perfect. Halfway down, Ginny yanked the broom upward, spinning sharply in a move that left one of the Death Eaters off-balance. With her wand in hand, she cast an Expulso at the nearest broom.
The Death Eater was thrown to the side, his broom spinning out of control before disappearing into the clouds. One less, she allowed her feelings to numb in the face of death. It wasn’t the first time she had to kill, but she wasn’t indifferent to the act.
As Ginny quickly spun to face the other two, a Desmaius hit her broom. The Cleansweep shook violently, an electric current running through its tail and up the handle. Ginny struggled to stabilize herself as a cold fear crept up her spine. Every spell they threw at her could be the last.
“Over here, Weasley!” a deep, male voice shouted from her right, with a nearly playful tone, as if enjoying a particularly macabre show.
Ginny didn’t fall for it and spun to dodge a purple light spell from the other Death Eater, but the sharp movement left her exposed for a second. A second curse hit her arm, and her wand flew out of her hand, spinning through the air before vanishing into the storm.
For a moment, panic gripped her. Without a wand, she was practically defenseless in battle. But there was no time to mourn the loss. The Death Eater who had shouted earlier, a man with a white mask covering his face, lunged toward her, his broom already too close.
“Did you think you could escape so easily?” his voice was a whisper distorted by the mask.
Ginny recognized the man; he had been hunting them for weeks, the captain of a prominent Death Eater squadron known for its efficiency.
Ginny waited until the last second before tilting her broom to the side, grazing her attacker’s broom and making him lose his balance. The Death Eater, however, barely hesitated. The mocking eyes under his mask were visible even in the middle of the storm. They shared a brief look as they pushed against each other, her enemy gaining ground with his larger body, pushing her toward his partner. Ginny slammed on the brakes and spiraled upward to escape the maneuver, seeking height and time, but her pursuers were relentless. The clouds closed in around them, and the sound of the storm nearly drowned out the shouts and flashes of spells.
Without a wand, Ginny knew her only option was to use her surroundings. She flew through a particularly dense cloud, reducing her speed just enough to force her opponent to follow her more closely. When one of the Death Eaters emerged from the cloud, Ginny sharply turned her broom at a tight angle, charging directly at him.
The impact was brutal. Her shoulder collided with the Death Eater’s arm, and both were destabilized. Ginny regained control first, but her attacker wasn’t so lucky. The Death Eater’s broom leaned violently, and with one last kick courtesy of Ginny, he spiraled down into the depths of the storm.
Ginny was left alone, looking around, panting as she floated above the clouds while the echoes of the battle faded. The previous Death Eater didn’t reappear from the clouds. But Ginny knew she hadn’t escaped yet.
"Did you think you could escape so easily?" she thought, the mocking voice of the Death Eater echoing in her mind, a challenge lingering in the air.
Without her wand, with her arm numb, she knew the danger wasn’t over. She took a deep breath, adjusted her grip on the Cleansweep 13, and began flying north, hoping no one was following her. But the weight of the pursuit still lingered, like a shadow.
She flew for hours, her hands nearly frozen and her body tense from the effort. She crossed gray landscapes and dark mountains, praying Merlin that the Death Eaters had given up. Finally, with the first light of dawn, Ginny saw the ruins of an old building surrounded by forest. Exhausted, she descended toward it, and when her feet touched the ground, tears began to fall, mixing with the rain.
Now, for sure, she was alone.
When Ginny woke up, the sky was still overcast. A leaden gray covered the entire landscape, as was common in England since Voldemort’s rise. The air was damp and heavy, and the ground beneath her body felt colder than expected. Her body ached, especially in her arm and back. She had fallen into a spiral of exhaustion upon landing and hadn’t gotten back up. Every fiber of her being screamed for rest, but she couldn’t afford it.
Every movement was a struggle, and the sense of weakness was so intense that it felt like the earth wanted to swallow her strength. The pain in her arm clouded her mind. With the adrenaline from the fight, she hadn’t noticed the pain, but now she could feel the swollen wrist, she must have injured it during the clash with the Death Eater.
The fatigue wasn’t just physical: her mind was exhausted too. The escape, the screams, the chaos… and now what? What was left? She didn’t have the answers and couldn’t afford to ask too many questions.
Her mind clung to the memories of the previous night: the attack, her fallen comrades... and then, the escape. Luna and Neville back to back.
Luna… Ginny could almost see her serene face, her fixed gaze, always so enigmatic, as she handed her the book and the scrolls. The memories of that moment made her throat tighten. What would she do alone? She didn’t have Luna’s brilliant mind, nor Neville’s resilience and courage. Without them, what was left of her mission? What was left of her unit? Of herself?
With trembling hands, Ginny pulled the book from the inner pocket of her robe. The cover was thick, the pages filled with quick notes, symbols, and hastily drawn maps. Strikethroughs and more hurried sentences. That book was more than just a guide: it was the link to the hope that had been left in ruins. A promise of something that could change the course of the war.
She looked at the pages and sighed. She needed time to think, but time was not a luxury she could afford. She couldn’t allow herself to sink into despair. She had to trust in her qualities. The determination, the cunning, the courage she had cultivated over the years. She wasn’t Luna, she wasn’t Neville, but she was Ginny Weasley, and she wasn’t going to let everything they had done so far be in vain.
With effort, she stood up. The softness of the grass beneath her feet was comforting, but the discomfort in her body was undeniable. Still, her mind focused on the present. She couldn’t stay there.
She moved toward the edge of the ruins, watching the village. The empty streets of that small abandoned magical village stretched before her, crumbling from the passage of time and fear. Banners of Voldemort’s regime stood proudly on the doors of houses, posts, and walls. There was something terrifying about the stillness of the place. The air was thick, as if the land itself were trapped in a lament. She couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched by invisible eyes. The people of the village had fled, abandoning their home; she was on enemy territory.
The creaking of a broken door in the distance made her heart skip a beat. The trees swayed in the wind. The village was dead, and that was precisely the problem. The stillness was dangerous. She had to be quick.
Ginny scanned the area. She had no wand, and although she had practiced some spells without one in the past, she knew she couldn’t rely entirely on that skill now. Not if she was going to survive. The broom, her Cleansweep 13, was still her only means of escape. She picked it up and kept it close, in case she had to flee quickly.
Taking a deep breath, Ginny adjusted her robe, which was dirty and torn from the harshness of the journey. She needed food. Information. And if she found an old, forgotten wand in one of the houses, she wouldn’t turn it down.
As she ventured further into the village, dilapidated houses surrounded her, some still standing, others completely collapsed. Broken windows, fallen doors, silent gardens. At the end of the street, she found a small shop that seemed to be intact. The glass display cases were covered in dust, but the door was closed. Ginny approached cautiously, watching for any sign of activity.
Without thinking too much, Ginny pushed the door. It was locked, but not with a key. The wood creaked as it opened, revealing the dim interior of the shop. Dust and cobwebs covered the shelves, but among the messy piles of abandoned objects, something caught her eye: a small box. It had the Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes logo. Her pulse quickened. How long had it been since she saw that logo? It felt like an eternity. She picked it up with trembling hands, feeling the smoothness of the wood under her fingers. Was it a sign that there was still hope left? Or perhaps just a reminder of everything she had lost? With a sigh, she tucked the box into her pocket and continued searching the shop. She had no time to linger on the memories.
With a sigh, she moved forward through the shop. She needed to keep going.
With the fall of the sun and a backpack full of provisions but no wand, Ginny left the village, determined to camp in a spot somewhere in the middle of nowhere, one that couldn’t be found on a map.
When Silas Grimm arrived at the village, the air was heavy, dense, and the atmosphere smelled of decaying leaves and damp earth. The search had been meticulous, and although the traces of Ginny Weasley had vanished among the ruins, something in his intuition told him she was close. He couldn’t afford to lose her, not when he was so close to obtaining what he needed to infiltrate the Dark Lord’s inner ranks.
As he approached the main street, his gaze fixed on the door of a shop. It was ajar. There was no wind to push it, nothing to justify its movement. The captain narrowed his eyes. The autumn leaves hadn’t yet piled up in front of the entrance, indicating that it hadn’t been long since someone had entered.
A cold smile appeared on his face. He knew that hunting Ginny Weasley was a matter of patience, and this detail was exactly what he needed to confirm his suspicions. He moved forward with steady steps and entered the shop. The dusty shelves, the cobwebs hanging in every corner, offered nothing of value. But as he looked at a shelf near the floor, something caught his attention: a clean, square print, not a speck of dust on it.
He crouched down, his fingers brushing against the clean wood. He smiled as his suspicions were confirmed; she had been here. He stood up and turned on his heel, exiting the shop, certain that he was following the right trail. His usually mocking face, hardened.
The hunt for young Weasley wouldn’t last much longer. She was his target, and this time, she wouldn’t escape.