Beyond Perception

This chapter is for my lovely Beta team, Karen, Zsofi, Aimee and Annie for their endless enthusiasm, hard work and support.

Chapter One

The Right To Bleed

Wish that I could cry,

Fall upon my knees.

Find a way to lie

About a home I'll never see.

This may sound absurd,

But don't be naïve-

Even heroes have the right the right to bleed

And it's not easy

To be me.

Ginny Weasley propped her bare feet up against the cool trunk and closed her eyes, letting the dappled shadows dance and flitter across her face. The air was humid and thick with the sound of singing crickets and combined scents of honeysuckle and sunshine. She longed for a cool gust of wind, or any slight breeze that might break the relentless heat which had been ruling the Burrow all summer. Mrs. Weasley's temper was teetered precariously on the edge of a knife blade these days, and with the twins gone, Ron and Ginny alone suffered at the hands of her explosive temperament.

She hadn't heard from any of her friend either; Alexis Quirke and Meiling Chang, who were both in Ravenclaw, had been Ginny's close friends since the beginning of fourth year when they had been placed in the same Charms class. Even though Ginny knew they were having a great time away on holiday with their families, she couldn't help but secretly feel abandoned. It wouldn't be so bad anymore, though, because tomorrow she would see everyone again. Hermione, Fred, George, Bill, who had been busy working lately, both for Gringotts and the Order, Charlie, who was currently looking after Grimmauld Place with Lupin. And Harry of course. Mr Weasley was picking him up on his way back from work. Mrs Weasley was planning a big dinner for all of them, as well as a few Order members.

Ginny was glad; the past few weeks had been depressingly dull. She had thought that a war would have been at least a little bit exciting, but even Fred and George had refused to divulge any information about their business with the Order. Ron and Hermione corresponded on an almost regular basis, but Ginny knew for a fact that they rarely ever discussed anything but Harry in their letters to each other. Harry himself sent them both accounts of his dull life at the Dursleys and his visits with Mrs Figg the Squib. Surely Harry must have realised that even Ron was smart enough to know that it was all a pretence to stop everyone from worrying about him. Naturally, this only made them even more anxious.

Ginny picked up her book, and tried to carry on reading where she had left off last night, but found she couldn't concentrate. Images and events from their last term at school kept drifting across her mind. She saw herself, sprawled helplessly on the ground, while Ron giggled feebly, a trickle of blood dribbling down his chin. Ginny kept hearing his terrified protests, over and over again; 'No-no-I don't like it-no, stop-stop-'. She remembered running with Luna through the pitch black room with the glowing planets, then someone grabbing her ankle and hearing it snap like a twig. Bellatrix Lestrange, her face aglow with manic excitement-'Let him watch while we torture the little girl-', and Harry, stepping in so that he was in front of her, protecting her. Harry, reaching out to take the small, glass prophecy...Harry, standing still in front of the stone archway, saying that he could hear whispering, and Ginny heard the faint voices too, behind the rippling veil...

She saw Hermione, in Umbridge's office; Hermione gasping and sobbing, her face hidden in her hands, and Neville, wide-eyed with disbelief. Umbridge, watching serenely while Ginny tried to free herself from her Slytherin captor-'Well it looks as though Hogwarts will shortly be a Weasley-free zone, doesn't it?'-and Draco Malfoy's alarming laughter ringing in her ears-

'GINNY!' cried out Mrs. Weasley's irritable voice, shattering the jumbled chaos of Ginny's thoughts. 'Could you please set the table?'

Inwardly groaning, Ginny brought her feet back down to earth and brushed bits of dried grass off her skirt.

'Okay, I'm coming!' she called, making her way back inside.

For a moment, the cool darkness of the room swam before her; she was briefly overcome by temporary dizziness from staying out too long in the sun. Ron appeared down the stairs, looking extremely ruffled from the heat.

'Want to help me set the table?' she asked, after regaining her sight and bearings.

'Not especially,' answered Ron, but he went in to the kitchen with her anyway.

Watching him bring out the placemats, Ginny suddenly realised how glad she was to have Ron around. He had been an endless source of comfort to her over the holidays, especially during the particularly difficult times when Mrs Weasley's temper seemed almost unbearable, and there was nothing to do but housework chores and homework. It made her appreciate just how much she had missed him over the last few years; they didn't really get to spend a lot of time together. In a way, Ginny was glad because it made things easier for her, not having her older brother always poking his nose in her business.

'Have you packed your things yet?' Ron asked her, passing over forks and soup spoons.

'Not yet,' admitted Ginny, mentally reminding herself to get organised after dinner. She was looking forward to seeing everyone again tomorrow, when there would be other people to talk to beside Ron and her Mum and the garden gnomes

*

Ginny heard voices travelling down the hallway, and moments later the door flew open. Bushy-haired and bright-eyed Hermione Granger appeared in the room, smiling.

'Hermione!' cried Ginny delightedly; getting up from the chair which she had been lounging in for the past few hours. Hermione gave her a one-armed hug-her other hand was taken up with bags and Crookshank's empty basket.

'Hey Ginny,' said Hermione happily, as Ron followed with the rest of her luggage.

'Bloody hell, Hermione!' he panted. 'What have you got in here? Wait...let me guess. Books, right?'

'No. Make up,' answered Hermione tartly, putting down the basket.

Ron glared at her. 'You'd better be joking.'

'I'm not. Hey, is Harry here yet?'

Ginny shook her head. 'Dad's picking him up on his way home.'

Hermione nodded mutely.

'I'm sure he's fine,' said Ron quickly. 'Now come on, hurry up, would you? This bag is killing my arm!'

'It is mostly books, you know,' she smiled, giving Ginny one last hug before leaving the room.

'As if it'd be anything else,' muttered Ron as he followed her out.

Ginny grinned to herself and returned back to her outdated issue of The Quibbler. But she had already lost interest in it, now that number twelve, Grimmauld Place was starting to fill up with life again. The twins had arrived an hour or two earlier, but had mysteriously disappeared again, promising to be back in the evening. Charlie was down in the kitchen helping Mrs. Weasley and Bill had not yet arrived. Closing The Quibbler, Ginny decided to go and help Hermione unpack. There was nothing else to do anyway and at least they'd be able to talk.

She climbed the stairs to at a time and seeing as the door to the bedroom was ajar, she immediately burst inside without a second thought. The two inhabitants looked up abruptly-Ron was sitting on the floor, back against the wall, his elbows sitting on his knees. Hermione was looking decidedly uncomfortable, sitting on the bed and absently biting her nails-a decidedly uncharacteristic mannerism. Suddenly aware that she might have disturbed something important, Ginny held up Crookshank's basket apologetically.

'Sorry...Hermione-you left this downstairs,' she said awkwardly.

'Oh, thanks...just put it down by the dresser.'

She put the basket away, careful not to look at her brother and quickly left the room. She was surprised to find that a few moments later hurried footsteps were following her down the stairs.

'Ginny! Wait-'

Hermione caught up with her on the last step.

'Listen, I just wanted to ask you-'

Ginny waited, but Hermione led her into the nearest room, which was unsurprisingly empty, and closed the door.

'I know this might sound like a weird question. But...Ron....does he...does he seem okay to you?'

Ginny weighed out the possible different meanings of this question. Unable to think of an appropriate response, she settled for: 'Er.....'

Hermione bit her lip, obviously searching for the right words. 'Well...it's just he seems more...I don't know...' she lowered her voice, 'I'm worried about him, Ginny. Lately, I've been so busy wondering about Harry, that I almost forgot about Ron...'

'It's okay,' said Ginny. 'It happens to all of us.'

'Well, it shouldn't. Not really,' sighed Hermione. She didn't look bright and happy anymore, only weary. 'I'm so sorry, Ginny.'

Ginny was bewildered. 'For what?'

'For forgetting about Ron. And you. I know it happens sometimes.'

'Don't be stupid, Hermione. You're the most considerate person I know.'

Hermione attempted to smile, but Ginny thought it looked more like a bitter grimace. She felt bad, and decided to try and change the subject.

'Have you finished unpacking?'

'No. Not yet.'

'Do you need any help, then?'

Hermione smiled. 'Sure. Thanks, Ginny.'

Together they returned upstairs, casually discussing how hot the summer had been, why Muggle clothing was so much better than Wizarding robes, and the few changes that the Order headquarters had undergone since they were last there. Kreacher had disappeared, presumably he had run off back to the Malfoys; Ginny secretly thought his absence was a great improvement, although she didn't tell Hermione that. The terrible portrait of Mrs Black was no longer a nuisance either, after Lupin had put up sound proof wards.

When Hermione and Ginny finally reached the bedroom again, Ron had already left.

*

By the time Hermione's belongings had been neatly arranged for easy access, Mr Weasley and Harry arrived. Ginny and Hermione were just coming back down into the hallway, when the front door swung open and Harry Potter stepped through the door.

Ginny and Hermione's faces lit up in identical delight, and Hermione ran to give Harry a hug which nearly made him fall over. He looked tired and pale, his jet-black hair was as ruffled and unruly as always. Harry's glasses flashed as Mr Weasley closed the door behind them, blocking out the last of the sun's rays so that the corridor was flooded in shadow once more.

'Hey Hermione,' said Harry, smiling. 'Hi Ginny.'

'Hey Harry,' Ginny grinned back. 'Ron's upstairs.'

'Harry!' came Ron's voice from behind as soon as she had spoken. He stumbled down the stairs towards his best friend, and they half-hugged, in that manly, pat-on-the-back sort of way.

'Well come on then, kids,' said Mr Weasley, ushering them out of the hallway. 'I'm starving and dinner smells delicious.'

'It's not ready yet,' said Mrs Weasley. 'Harry...welcome back!'

Harry gave a muffled thanks, as Molly had pulled him into a warm and tight embrace. Tears leaked out the corners of her eyes and splashed onto Harry's shirt.

'I'm sorry, dear,' she sniffed, half-laughing as she wiped him dry with the corner of her apron. 'It's just...I'm so glad you're here...'

'Come on, Harry, before she really gets weepy. We'll be in the lounge if you need us, Mum,' said Ron, taking charge. He pulled Harry out the door, and the girls trooped along after them.

After they had gone, Mrs Weasley turned to her husband. 'Is he really all right, Arthur?' she asked fearfully.

Mr Weasley sat down on one of the chairs. 'I'm not sure, Molly. But I hope so,' he answered truthfully.

*

After three years of secretly observing Harry Potter, Ginny was pretty confident that she could instantly tell what he was feeling at any given time. From the moment Harry had stepped through the door, she realised he hadn't slept properly in days. Ginny knew more about sleepless nights than she cared to remember-it was a place in her life she didn't particularly wish to revisit.

'What's the matter?' Harry asked her quietly, as they watched Hermione and Ron who were deeply immersed in a game of chess on the coffee table. 'You're staring at me.'

'You're tired,' she said, managing to twist the statement into an accusation. 'You haven't been sleeping properly, have you?'

Harry wearily rubbed his eyes behind his glasses. 'Not really. It's alright. Just bad dreams. I get them all the time.'

'From...from You-Know-Who?'

Harry shook his head. 'No...not from Voldemort,' he answered stiffly.

Ginny didn't pursue the subject, and their conversation lapsed into a brief silence. She looked up and saw Ron peering at them curiously over Hermione's bushy hair. When he caught her gaze, Ron immediately reverted his eyes back to the chessboard.

Poor, sweet Ron, he always expected so much of her.

'So, have you heard from Dean lately?' asked Harry suddenly.

'Not since the beginning of the month,' Ginny replied in surprise, mystified as to why he should bring up her boyfriend. 'He's on holiday with his family in Australia.'

'Oh. Sounds like fun.'

'Yeah. He says he's going to bring me back an Echidna.'

'Really? What's that?'

'I have no idea,' said Ginny, and Harry gave a small grin.

'Checkmate!' cried Ron, banging his fist on the table in triumph. 'That must have been a record.'

'Yeah, yeah,' said Hermione ungraciously. She was no good at playing the loser, something which Ron knew only too well.

At that moment Harry stood up abruptly to leave. Ginny, Hermione and Ron all watched him warily.

'I'm just going to unpack my things,' he explained irritably. Ever since he had arrived at Grimmauld Place people had been acting as if he was a ticking bomb on the verge of exploding, and any slight disturbance might set him off. He had survived the past few weeks hadn't he? He was still alive and breathing. While he lived there was a chance that Voldemort would be defeated. What more did they want?

Harry stalked out of the room and wasn't surprised when two minutes later Ron and Hermione appeared in his doorway.

'What?' he asked, trying not to sound mad and unstable, which was obviously what they had all been expecting.

Ron and Hermione exchanged a worried look, which only made him further incensed. They had probably been planning this "talk" for months. Well, while they had been preparing for this little confrontation, Harry had been thinking. In fact, that was probably all he had done over the summer. And he knew there was no point in wasting energy blaming Dumbledore or Kreacher or even himself for Sirius's death. No. All the hatred that Harry felt now in every inch of his entire body was reserved for one person and one person only. If you could even call him that.

'Listen...Harry, mate,' said Ron.

'Ron, I'm fine,' answered Harry in a bored voice. Hermione was doing that wide-eyed concerned thing again, a look she often wore when Harry was around. 'Really.'

'Well...good to know anyway,' continued Ron. 'But...we were actually going to tell you that dinner's ready. Mum wants you to come down.'

'Oh,' said Harry, and unable to think of anything else to add to that pathetic comment, he left his untouched trunk sitting on the bed and followed the others downstairs.

As they descended down onto the landing, Hermione gave Ron a quizzical look. It was true that Mrs Weasley had asked them to go after Harry, but that wasn't the reason they had gone up to talk to him in the first place. Ron shot her a warning glance, suggesting that they should discuss it later.

As they entered the basement, Ginny came up to meet them, grinning.

'You should see what Fred and George bought for dessert,' she said.

Harry looked over towards the dining table. Most of the Weasleys were gathered around there, as well as Mad-Eye Moody, Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt who had arrived just a few minutes ago. He was also surprised to see Mundungus talking with Professor Dumbledore in the corner.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around to see Remus Lupin, looking a bit less shabby than last time they had met.

'That's the biggest cake I've ever seen,' he said quietly, not without amusement. 'Do you think it's safe to eat?'

Harry looked back to the table again. He could see, above the many flaming red heads, the top of a large chocolate gateau, sprinkled with icing and delectable chocolate curls. Dipped strawberries surrounded the edges of the base. Ron's mouth watered as they approached the gateau interestedly.

'Don't worry,' assured Fred. 'It's not from the shop.'

Hermione still looked doubtful, and with good reason. 'Doesn't mean you haven't tampered with it,' she pointed out.

'Oh come on,' said George. 'You honestly don't believe us? Here, Fred will eat a piece to prove it.'

'No one will be eating any cake until after dinner,' said Mrs Weasley firmly, taking the knife away from him. She waved her wand once and dishes laden with food appeared on the table. Salads, soups, chicken, pork, roast vegetables, jellies and half a dozen types of pie.

'Molly, you must have spent all day preparing this. Thank you,' said Lupin as everyone took their seats.

Mrs. Weasley beamed. 'It was nothing. Eat up, everybody.'

They all obeyed instantly, drawn to the alluring scents from the roast. While everyone else around them talked, Harry, Ron and Hermione ate in unusual silence. Ginny wondered if they were fighting, but that seemed unlikely. When Ron, Charlie and the twins began telling Harry about the latest Quidditch cup match between England and South Africa and Hermione started up a conversation about OWL results with Lupin, Ginny finally relaxed and went back to offering her support for Bill's ongoing battle with Mrs Weasley to keep his hair long.

*

Sunny walls surrounded him, bright and welcoming, and ringing sounds of laughter beckoned to him down the corridor. The air was warm, and he felt at peace. He was safe-no one could harm him here. He was home.

Harry followed voices down the hallway and through sunlit rooms filled with smells of baking and spices. His Mum and Dad were waiting for him in the next room, and they looked up and smiled as he came in.

'Hey sweetie,' said Lily, taking him into her arms and planting a kiss on his forehead. 'Come to help me with the cooking?'

James laughed. 'Alright, have fun you two. Come out into the back after you've finished, son. We'll try out that new broom of yours, eh?'

'Alright, Dad,' said Harry. James gave a small wink and left.

'Could you start cutting up the carrots, honey?' asked Lily, handing him the knife and chopping board. Harry reached out to take it, the knife slipping out of his hands. The flash of sunlight on the blade confused him-it looked like the snitch. He instinctively reached out to catch it, and Lily screamed as the blade sliced through his palm; pain tore through his hand and his scar started to burn...

Harry awoke with a start to find himself in completely blinded by the night. The darkness was filled with a deathly silence; his throat felt parched and his eyes were stinging painfully. Rolling over on his side, he groped blindly for his wand before remembering that he wasn't allowed to use any magic. Instead, he jerked open the curtains above his bed; the room was suddenly bathed in silver, ghostly light. Harry didn't need his glasses to see the shining blood smeared across his wand.

*

It was so bright out here. Which didn't make sense at all, because she was lying inside. And yet the air was filled with dazzling light, dancing before her very eyes. It must be sunshine. Perhaps there was a window somewhere. But then she should be warm in the sun...instead she was freezing. The coldness seeped through her robes, across her skin and into her very bones. And then there were flecks of brilliant blue dancing before her very eyes, and they were soft and brushed against her hair, her cheeks, her fluttering eyelids. Ginny realised they were wings, blushing with colour; butterflies fluttering up to blend into the great blue sky above.

A voice was speaking softly in her ear, a voice that sounded so warm and hauntingly familiar: 'Beautiful, aren't they Virginia? Do you like them, those little butterflies?'

A wintry cold hand sweeping the hair back from her face. The voice was speaking again, deeper, harsher now.

'They were yours, once. Don't you remember? Don't you remember little Ginny?'

She didn't answer. She didn't know.

One by one, the butterflies began to fall. Ginny tried to close her eyes, but somehow found herself unable to shut out the image of those bright blue petal-like wings, withering to the ground. And she was too tired to feel scared, or angry, or sad. All she felt was cold...it was so, so cold...

Ginny's eyes fluttered open when she realised the room had suddenly plunged into darkness. The strange dream she struggled to remember trickled away like sparkling sand between her fingers. Before she could accurately recall the images, they slipped from her mind, lost forever to the deepest caves of her hidden subconscious.

She knew something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

Her heart was hammering with fear; she fought to not scream out into the suffocating silence. An icy hand was gripping tightly at her throat, she couldn't breathe, she was drowning in terror and panic.

Please,

Ginny cried desperately into the silence. Please I don't want to die...

*

'Ginny?'

The door opened, and Harry appeared in the entrance, holding a candle in one hand and his bloody wand in the other. Ginny inhaled with immediate relief. Light flooded into the pitch-black room, driving away her terrified thoughts.

'Harry!' she cried in surprise. 'What's the matter?'

'I heard noises...I came to see if you were alright,' said Harry uncertainly. 'Are you okay? Is something wrong?'

'No, I'm fine...Here...come in and shut the door.'

Harry obeyed, coming over to stand by her bedside. Ginny noticed as he got closer that his hand was bleeding freely onto his shirt sleeve. His wand too, was stained scarlet.

'Harry, what's wrong with your hand?' she gasped.

'Oh...' said Harry uncomfortably. 'I'd forgotten about that.'

'What happened?'

'Well...' he paused. 'I know this is going to sounds really weird...But I had this dream, and I accidentally cut myself in it and then when I woke up my hand was bleeding. I don't think it's anything serious...'

'You don't think it's anything serious?' she echoed doubtfully, jumping out of bed.

Harry said nothing, and avoided looking at her.

'Well come on, let's clean it up,' said Ginny, dragging him across the hallway to the bathroom, where Mrs Weasley kept the emergency first-aid kit.

'You won't tell anyone, will you?' asked Harry, as Ginny rubbed some sort of potion onto his hand with a cotton cloth. It smelt a little like bitter lemon juice and pepper, and stung a little.

'I think that will scar,' she told him.

'Yeah,' agreed Harry, brushing the hair away from his eyes. 'Just what I need. More scars.'

Ginny grinned. 'Really, though...don't you think you should find out more about these weird dreams?' she asked worriedly. 'I don't think that kind of thing is healthy.'

'Me neither,' said Harry shortly. 'It's been happening all summer.'

'What? This has happened before?'

'Well, not really like this,' he explained. 'But...sort of little things. I tripped and stubbed my toe once, and I've gotten a few bruises here and there. Once I fell off my broom during this really weird Quidditch match...'

'But your dreams have never exactly been normal, have they?' interrupted Ginny, thinking about the time last year when Harry had seen Mr Weasley being attacked by a giant snake.

'I guess not,' Harry muttered. 'Thanks to Voldemort.'

Ginny shivered. The flames from the glowing candles flickered suddenly, threatening to extinguish. She felt her pulse quicken, before everything steadied again.

'Sorry,' said Harry dully, remembering he had used the Dark Lord's name. 'I forgot.'

'It's okay,' Ginny answered. 'It's just...creepy hearing it in the middle of the night.'

Harry was quiet then, and it gave Ginny a chance to reflect on the complete irony of their situation. A year or so ago, she would have given anything to be able to sit up with Harry in the middle of the night, just the two of them alone together. It was odd how these kind of things actually turned out in real life. Here she was, Ginny Weasley, sitting beside famous Harry Potter at one in the morning in a candle-lit bathroom, and for once she wasn't wishing desperately for something more.

'You have to tell someone, Harry,' she told him, packing away the first-aid kit.

'I'm going to talk to Dumbledore about it,' he replied. 'Um...Ginny?'

'Yes?'

'Do you....would you mind not mentioning it to anyone else just yet? They all have enough to worry about...'

'I won't tell,' assured Ginny.

'Thanks,' said Harry gratefully, as Ginny handed him back his wand wiped clean of all blood. 'And thanks for cleaning me up. I'd better get back to bed.'

Ginny nodded, and Harry stood up. Halfway through the door, he stopped and turned back.

'You are alright, though, aren't you? You sounded really upset back there before.'

'Oh...it was nothing. Really. Just...bad dreams,' Ginny lied.

'You too, huh?'

Ginny smiled. 'I don't think mine are quite as bad as yours.'

'Lucky you, then. Good night, Ginny.' He shot her a quick grin and left.

'Night, Harry.'