Chapter 13
Harry went to Hermione next, who simply hugged him. Then he talked to Molly, hoping that his relation to her and the Prewetts would make the news that much more bearable for Ron. He wasn’t sure how well the third of the so-called Golden Trio would take it.
Molly gasped. “Oh, I never thought I’d have a moment’s remorse for killing that - that bitch - but Harry, I’m so sorry -”
“I don’t think she knew, Mrs. Weasley. I don’t blame you, and I’m not upset about it. She was not my mother, and she never would have been - she would have just been a flight risk from Azkaban, and caused chaos until she was captured. You did the right thing, for the right reasons, and I will never have any bitterness towards you for it.”
Molly had pulled him into the most maternal hug he’d ever experienced, and mopped her eyes breathlessly. She agreed to tell the rest of the Weasleys with him, and wished aloud over and over again that he could have met her Uncle Ignatius and her brothers Fabian and Gideon.
As Molly broke the news, Ron was bracing and matter-of-fact, although Harry suspected he may have been right to be concerned had he chosen to tell Ron himself.
“Can’t help being related to dickheads, mate,” he said, clapping Harry on the shoulder. “We got Percy. Even if he did turn it round in the end.”
Everyone seemed, Harry thought, to be taking the news far too well - although he supposed that everyone he had told so far was a family member, one way or another. It was difficult not to accept something when it can’t be changed, and when doing so could be seen as hypocrisy.
Ginny hovered until everyone had had their fill of backslaps and handshakes, and eventually came to sit next to him, twisting her hands. She took a deep breath.
“I don’t - I don’t care who you are, Harry. This isn’t because of that. But I wanted to talk about… about us. I don’t think we should get back together.”
“Ginny,” said Ron in an undertone to Harry. “My sister. She’s been talking about you all summer.”
Ginny, who had always been very taken with Harry, seemed even more heartily embarrassed than usual when she saw him, perhaps because he had saved her life during their last term at Hogwarts.
Both of them smiled at Harry, who grinned back, which made Ginny go scarlet.
“It is about who I am,” Harry said serenely. “But not in a bad way.” He looked up at her and smiled sadly. “When I was walking through the woods, I knew I was going to die. The time we had was what I looked back on - my happiest time. Don’t cry!” He added hastily. “Ginny, those weeks with you were my best. But you weren’t enough to make me fight. Do you see? You wanted Harry Potter, the orphan. You always wanted the version of me that the world refused to see because they were blinded by The Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One. But it’s all over. Tom is dead. I have a family, even if I don’t have parents. The boy you loved… he doesn’t exist. And no matter how perfect and shining those weeks were… I was still ready to die.”
Ginny sighed and smiled tremulously. “You always understood me,” she whispered. “Maybe more than I did.”
A bolt of inspiration struck Harry. “And I will always be here, understanding,” he promised. “You are as much a friend to me as Ron or Hermione. Ginny, will you do something for me?”
“Anything,” she said.
“Tell Luna,” he said. “Because her only reaction will probably be something about it being foretold, or whispered to her by a Plimpie, or something. And then take her with you to see Neville. Luna and her dad might be having a rough time of it, given their disagreement on betraying us, and Neville - I told him, but Bellatrix -”
“oh, Merlin,” Ginny swore. “Yeah, I’ll - I’ll do that now.” She stood up, and then hesitated, took his hand, and kissed his cheek. “They’re perfect and shining in my memory too,” she whispered, and Harry smiled up at her through eyes blurred by tears.