I grip Mummy’s arm tightly as I Side-Apparate with her to the Ministry. The moment we arrive there everyone greets her and me warmly.
“Hello, Ginny! How’re you doing, Rose?”
“Blimey, Rose, you’re getting big!”
“Ginny! It’s been too long. We should do lunch. Hi, Rose! Oh, Ginny, she’s so beautiful.”
I blush slightly, staring at the ground, as Mummy weaves through the crowds and heads directly to one place. The Auror offices. I know we’re going to go there before Mummy even heads in that direction, because that’s the only place we ever go to. Since Mummy has a brother and a good friend who work there, it’s the only place we ever go to when we’re at the Ministry.
“Ginny!” exclaims a girl as we arrive at an office. The office door has a sign that says “Ronald Weasley, Auror.”
She flings her arms around Mummy, her wild brown curls flying everywhere. As she takes a step back, she smiles fondly at Mummy and then looks down at me, “Hello, Rose.” She bends down to be at my height. I take Mummy’s hand, moving a little bit behind her, trying to remember who this woman is.
“Rosie, you know Hermione, don’t you?”
I look at Hermione. She smiles slightly, her large, brown eyes containing a hint of friendliness that I can’t help but admire. I glance down at her left hand and see a golden ring on her ring finger. Uncle Ron’s wife. Yes, Mummy, I remember, I think to myself, but I don’t say anything.
Speaking of my uncle, he comes out of his office and greets me with a wide smile. Hermione stands up and moves aside, letting him greet Mummy and me. He gives Mummy and hug and lifts his hand for a high-five, “How’re you doing, Rose?”
I just glance at his hand as if he’s crazy, giving him a ‘what I supposed to do with that?’ look.
He laughs lightly, turning around and calling, “Oi! Harry! Ginny’s here!”
In a second, a group of people, most of which with bright red hair, walk over. My grandmother, Molly Weasley, a short, plump woman, who although shows signs of being old enough to have a son as old as my uncle has not lost a spark of colour in her fiery red locks. My grandfather, Arthur Weasley, on the other hand, is balding slightly. My uncles Fred and George come over and grin at me. They work at a joke shop, I know, making some of the best and coolest things I’ve ever seen. Every year on my birthday, they send me their newest invention. Mummy’s not always so happy with that.
They all greet me with hugs and kisses and although I’m happy to see them, I can’t help but feel a little uncomfortable. One person – the only one without red hair – smiles at me slightly. His black, untidy hair and bright green eyes, round glasses and lightning-bolt scar are features I’ve seen so many times in the newspaper that I’ve lost count. He greets Mummy with a hug and his waves at me with a friendly smile, trying to, I know, determine again who my father is. I know he does every time I see him. I even know what he’s going to say next:
“I know I’ve seen those eyes before.”
Sure enough, he does, and as he lifts his head to talk to Mummy, I slip away, hearing only one of the twins saying, “Come on, Ginny, who’s her father?” and Mummy’s exhausted, “When the time is right, I’ll tell you,” before I’m far away from them.
I admire the fake scenic window, before almost crashing into a wall. I gasp as I back up, looking at it. There is a picture and description of every “Wanted” wizard who’s ever existed. The ones who are in Azkaban or dead had the word “FOUND” stamped across their faces. Then there are the few ones who have just plain pictures and a description beside them who are still, as the sign on the top of the wall says, “WANTED”.
I look at them all in awe, spotting a few familiar names.
“Tom Marvolo Riddle, Lord Voldemort” “FOUND”
“Lucius Malfoy, Death Eater” “FOUND”
“Narcissa Malfoy, Death Eater” “FOUND”
“Gregory Goyle, Death Eater” “FOUND”
“Vincent Crabbe, Death Eater” “FOUND”
“Bellatrix Lestrange nee Black, Death Eater” “FOUND”
Along with some other familiar names from the articles I had read earlier that day. I suddenly realise that my father must be up here, too. My eyes skim the ones that haven’t been found yet, stopping as I spotted the familiar picture, the same one I found in Mummy’s room, yet a lot clearer and in better condition. Beside his picture is his criminal record.
“Draco Malfoy, born June 5, 1980.
Wanted for assistance in the murder of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore in June of 1997, for letting Death Eaters into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on the same day, and for…”
And that’s the way the list goes on. Most of them are “attempted” or “assistance”, or “claimed to have”. Which makes me believe even more that he’s not all that bad, because he never actually did any of that stuff – well, maybe. But one sentence makes me wonder…
“Wanted for assisting in the murder of Albus Percival Wulfric Brain Dumbledore.”
Albus Dumbledore was a great wizard, I know because he’s a Chocolate Frog card and Mummy always tells me about him. She always gets very teary-eyed when she talks about how he was viciously murdered by a man who once taught her Potions in school, someone who Dumbledore truly trusted. She never said anything about a Draco Malfoy. Of course, she’d probably not want to mention my father at all, seeing as she didn’t want me to know he existed.
“There you are, Rose!” exclaims Grandmother, running over to me. “Why are you looking at these? Oh, you needn’t worry, dear. Our Aurors will find them.” She takes me hand and pulls me back to the group. I take one last look at Draco Malfoy’s worried, pale expression before I’m back with my family.
“Mummy,” I ask when I come back, “Who was the man who killed Albus Dumbledore?”
“I told you this already,” Mummy mutters, avoiding my eye.
“Yes, but I want to see if he’s on the wall--”
“We haven’t found him yet,” says Harry Potter regrettably.
“But when we do…” says Uncle Ron a little scarily, and as I give him a frightened look Hermione snaps, “Ronald!”
“Oh.” There is a pause, “Shouldn’t we be worried? I mean, you said that Albus Dumbledore was the greatest wizard of all time--”
“That’s enough,” snaps Mummy, though her voice is kind of shaky, taking my hand. “I’ll see you all later,” She nods to her family. “Come, Rose.”
And with that, she Apparates away, me tight beside her, getting a last look at the wall in the distance before we’re back home.
“Hello, Ginny! How’re you doing, Rose?”
“Blimey, Rose, you’re getting big!”
“Ginny! It’s been too long. We should do lunch. Hi, Rose! Oh, Ginny, she’s so beautiful.”
I blush slightly, staring at the ground, as Mummy weaves through the crowds and heads directly to one place. The Auror offices. I know we’re going to go there before Mummy even heads in that direction, because that’s the only place we ever go to. Since Mummy has a brother and a good friend who work there, it’s the only place we ever go to when we’re at the Ministry.
“Ginny!” exclaims a girl as we arrive at an office. The office door has a sign that says “Ronald Weasley, Auror.”
She flings her arms around Mummy, her wild brown curls flying everywhere. As she takes a step back, she smiles fondly at Mummy and then looks down at me, “Hello, Rose.” She bends down to be at my height. I take Mummy’s hand, moving a little bit behind her, trying to remember who this woman is.
“Rosie, you know Hermione, don’t you?”
I look at Hermione. She smiles slightly, her large, brown eyes containing a hint of friendliness that I can’t help but admire. I glance down at her left hand and see a golden ring on her ring finger. Uncle Ron’s wife. Yes, Mummy, I remember, I think to myself, but I don’t say anything.
Speaking of my uncle, he comes out of his office and greets me with a wide smile. Hermione stands up and moves aside, letting him greet Mummy and me. He gives Mummy and hug and lifts his hand for a high-five, “How’re you doing, Rose?”
I just glance at his hand as if he’s crazy, giving him a ‘what I supposed to do with that?’ look.
He laughs lightly, turning around and calling, “Oi! Harry! Ginny’s here!”
In a second, a group of people, most of which with bright red hair, walk over. My grandmother, Molly Weasley, a short, plump woman, who although shows signs of being old enough to have a son as old as my uncle has not lost a spark of colour in her fiery red locks. My grandfather, Arthur Weasley, on the other hand, is balding slightly. My uncles Fred and George come over and grin at me. They work at a joke shop, I know, making some of the best and coolest things I’ve ever seen. Every year on my birthday, they send me their newest invention. Mummy’s not always so happy with that.
They all greet me with hugs and kisses and although I’m happy to see them, I can’t help but feel a little uncomfortable. One person – the only one without red hair – smiles at me slightly. His black, untidy hair and bright green eyes, round glasses and lightning-bolt scar are features I’ve seen so many times in the newspaper that I’ve lost count. He greets Mummy with a hug and his waves at me with a friendly smile, trying to, I know, determine again who my father is. I know he does every time I see him. I even know what he’s going to say next:
“I know I’ve seen those eyes before.”
Sure enough, he does, and as he lifts his head to talk to Mummy, I slip away, hearing only one of the twins saying, “Come on, Ginny, who’s her father?” and Mummy’s exhausted, “When the time is right, I’ll tell you,” before I’m far away from them.
I admire the fake scenic window, before almost crashing into a wall. I gasp as I back up, looking at it. There is a picture and description of every “Wanted” wizard who’s ever existed. The ones who are in Azkaban or dead had the word “FOUND” stamped across their faces. Then there are the few ones who have just plain pictures and a description beside them who are still, as the sign on the top of the wall says, “WANTED”.
I look at them all in awe, spotting a few familiar names.
“Tom Marvolo Riddle, Lord Voldemort” “FOUND”
“Lucius Malfoy, Death Eater” “FOUND”
“Narcissa Malfoy, Death Eater” “FOUND”
“Gregory Goyle, Death Eater” “FOUND”
“Vincent Crabbe, Death Eater” “FOUND”
“Bellatrix Lestrange nee Black, Death Eater” “FOUND”
Along with some other familiar names from the articles I had read earlier that day. I suddenly realise that my father must be up here, too. My eyes skim the ones that haven’t been found yet, stopping as I spotted the familiar picture, the same one I found in Mummy’s room, yet a lot clearer and in better condition. Beside his picture is his criminal record.
“Draco Malfoy, born June 5, 1980.
Wanted for assistance in the murder of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore in June of 1997, for letting Death Eaters into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on the same day, and for…”
And that’s the way the list goes on. Most of them are “attempted” or “assistance”, or “claimed to have”. Which makes me believe even more that he’s not all that bad, because he never actually did any of that stuff – well, maybe. But one sentence makes me wonder…
“Wanted for assisting in the murder of Albus Percival Wulfric Brain Dumbledore.”
Albus Dumbledore was a great wizard, I know because he’s a Chocolate Frog card and Mummy always tells me about him. She always gets very teary-eyed when she talks about how he was viciously murdered by a man who once taught her Potions in school, someone who Dumbledore truly trusted. She never said anything about a Draco Malfoy. Of course, she’d probably not want to mention my father at all, seeing as she didn’t want me to know he existed.
“There you are, Rose!” exclaims Grandmother, running over to me. “Why are you looking at these? Oh, you needn’t worry, dear. Our Aurors will find them.” She takes me hand and pulls me back to the group. I take one last look at Draco Malfoy’s worried, pale expression before I’m back with my family.
“Mummy,” I ask when I come back, “Who was the man who killed Albus Dumbledore?”
“I told you this already,” Mummy mutters, avoiding my eye.
“Yes, but I want to see if he’s on the wall--”
“We haven’t found him yet,” says Harry Potter regrettably.
“But when we do…” says Uncle Ron a little scarily, and as I give him a frightened look Hermione snaps, “Ronald!”
“Oh.” There is a pause, “Shouldn’t we be worried? I mean, you said that Albus Dumbledore was the greatest wizard of all time--”
“That’s enough,” snaps Mummy, though her voice is kind of shaky, taking my hand. “I’ll see you all later,” She nods to her family. “Come, Rose.”
And with that, she Apparates away, me tight beside her, getting a last look at the wall in the distance before we’re back home.
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