LIGHT ME UP, ginny weasley.

↳ ooovii

        She showed him the book, then quickly explained what she talked to Dumbledore about. Eleazar had a thoughtful look on his face, not questioning her about it.

The whole day in Grimmauld Place was spent trying to make it inhabitable for humans—spraying doxies, emitting glass cabinets, some more creepy little dark things. There was a musical box that emitted a faintly sinister, tinkling tune when wound, and they all found themselves becoming curiously weak and sleepy until Ginny had the sense to slam the lid shut.

There was also a heavy locket that Effie found—it shocked her the first time she found it, and so decided to keep it for future preference.

She'll ask Kreacher later.

Several times, Kreacher sidled into the room and attempted to smuggle things away under his loincloth, muttering horrible curses every time they caught him at it.

Potter finally got a chance to talk to Effie when he found her in the boxing room, beating the shit out of a heavy bag after another therapy session with Remus. She pivoted and twisted on her spot each time, a loud grunt escaping her lips every time she hit the bag.

"Er—could we talk?"

"So, talk," Effie prompted him.

He sat down on the bean bag Ginny has occupied more often times than not, "Why didn't you tell anyone about fake Moody?"

Effie let out a bitter laugh, "Who would believe me, Potter? Fake Moody was careful—I mean, he managed to get me to inhale poison the whole year, didn't he? So I was suffering from night terrors and hallucinations—parasomnia, since I nearly stabbed Ginny in my sleep—they would've passed it off as tiredness."

"You see, Potter, because of what happened, I'd been barely sleeping the whole year," She shakes her head, reimagining Crouch Jr's face on the heavy bag and it only ignited her fury. "I got addicted to amphetamines. I was suffering from severe sleep deprivation, prone to hallucinations. When I found his Polyjuice Potion, he was quick to change it to Firewhiskey. So tell me, Potter, who would've believed me without proof?"

"What about Dumbledore?" Potter retaliates, his brows furrowed.

"He wouldn't have taken me seriously," Effie rolled her eyes. "I was very sleep-deprived—not to mention, therapists in California thought I had the same disease mum had; frontotemporal dementia—basically makes you think everyone's after your life."

Potter frowned, "Are you. . . okay, now?"

"Well, if you could count nearly stabbing someone in my sleep, or hallucinating, as okay. . . "

"Did you ever tell anyone?"

"Ginny," Effie answers shortly. "She helped me try to stop with the pills—she listened, didn't make me feel crazy."

"Could you tell me more about the Order?"

So that's what this is about, she thought bitterly. "I'm afraid not, or else Mrs. Weasley and Sirius would really have my head if you know more than you need to—"