(no subject)
There was still almost a month left until it would really feel like winter for the first time, but Ginny shivered. She sat in her dorm, curtains pulled around her four-poster, and shook. She hadn't heard from either of her parents in two weeks. Her last letter to her father had returned unopened, a Ministry's 'improper address' stamp printed cleanly across the front in red letters. Her last three letters to her mother were unreplied to, other than a simple "Darling, I'm sorry, it's just not safe to owl."
So she sat in her bed with no answers, shaking with stiffled tears, praying the few dormmates she had left wouldn't hear her cries. Ginny Weasley doesn't routinely cry, for any reason, and so she felt particularly foolish crying when she didn't even know what was wrong. Though something very clearly was.
Percy had sent her an owl. His primp, stucatto handwriting told her to kindly stop writing their father, because he was a very busy man now (although not saying what he was busy with), and that no one had the time to entertain her suspicions. Didn't she know they were in a crisis, he'd asked. She refused to respond for two reasons. Firstly, she suspected it wasn't Percy at all who had written the note, although she could find no spell to prove the contrary, and secondly because even if it had been him who had written it, she'd expect no answers from him. Instead she threw his letter in the fire, and watched it smolder away in anger.
"Something has to be done," she said to herself. She pulled out her quill and parchment, and set to work again.
So she sat in her bed with no answers, shaking with stiffled tears, praying the few dormmates she had left wouldn't hear her cries. Ginny Weasley doesn't routinely cry, for any reason, and so she felt particularly foolish crying when she didn't even know what was wrong. Though something very clearly was.
Percy had sent her an owl. His primp, stucatto handwriting told her to kindly stop writing their father, because he was a very busy man now (although not saying what he was busy with), and that no one had the time to entertain her suspicions. Didn't she know they were in a crisis, he'd asked. She refused to respond for two reasons. Firstly, she suspected it wasn't Percy at all who had written the note, although she could find no spell to prove the contrary, and secondly because even if it had been him who had written it, she'd expect no answers from him. Instead she threw his letter in the fire, and watched it smolder away in anger.
"Something has to be done," she said to herself. She pulled out her quill and parchment, and set to work again.