Monster

Beyond the Veil

No.

Ginny sprinted down the corridor and out into the circular room. Ten red x's glowed dimly on ten doors, cooling slowly to orange. The door back to the Veil was open. As footsteps closed behind her, she sprinted toward the one remaining unmarked door.

"Ginny!" Neville screamed, still back in the Death Chamber. "Come back!"

She turned the knob and entered the room, closing the door tight behind her. She would not be followed. She needed to be alone.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. Everything had gone according to plan. They'd tricked Tom into underestimating them, coming down to the Department of Mysteries with just his closest--his snake, Mrs. LeStrange, Professor Snape and Peter Pettigrew. Luna had killed the snake, the two traitors had paid their life debts defending Harry, and Neville (flanked by Ron and Hermione) had had the satisfaction of taking down the snarling, cornered Bellatrix. All as planned.

The idea--Ron's idea--had been to get Voldemort up on the dais, to get him close to the arch, thinking he'd be able to force Harry through, thinking himself to be immortal, and then for as many of them as could to use Banishing Charms on him to force the old bugger through the veil.

But when Luna had signaled that Nagini was dead, Harry had smiled, and Tom had clearly known something was up--had seen it in Harry's mind, perhaps. The bastard had turned and tried to possess her--possess her!--to use her to kill Harry, and she had fought him with everything she had.

She'd heard Harry talk about the agony of having Voldemort enter his mind after Sirius died, and she'd pondered on it, wondering why she had no memory of it hurting; she knew now. The pain was Tom's; he had screamed the minute he'd touched her mind and found it...

Found it full of love. Stupid arse.

But Harry had seen only that Tom was hurting her, and had tackled the gaunt figure and pushed him through the arch, his momentum carrying him through as well. Their eyes--red and green--locked on her as they disappeared into darkness.

The power the Dark Lord knows not. Bloody hell.

She hadn't tried to run through the veil herself, and she was angry that she hadn't. She'd run away. Weeping. She'd run away to...

Ginny blinked and looked up. She was in an oddly curved chamber; the red walls were covered with shelves full of books and potion vials. What the hell did they study here?

It didn't matter. She wept on, her small frame shuddering with the agony. Oh, help, she thought, even as a cold, Tom-like voice sneered inside her help that it was too late for any help--Harry was gone and she was alone. Help, help, HELP!

A monster seemed to be howling inside of her, clawing to get out, its wail so sublimely terrible that she thought she might explode.

Scarlet-and-gold flame dazzled Ginny's sorrow-blind eyes. A gentle trill. A nip.

"Oh!" Ginny looked up to see fire-colored feathers and a beak of gold. "Oh! Fawkes!" She threw her arms around the Gryffindor-hued phoenix and wept on. "Oh, Fawkes, your tears can't help now, your song can't help now, nothing can help now."

The bird's sad, wet eyes gazed at her. He nipped at her ear, and in another flash of flame, disappeared.

Shocked, Ginny stared at where the bird had been. "FINE!" she howled. "Just bloody fine! Go away, then! Go away when I...!"

Suddenly, a searing pain flared on Ginny's back--on her shoulder blades--and she arched and gasped.

Another flash of orange-red, and Fawkes reappeared on the other side of the room. He was perched on a still, prone, black-haired form.

"HARRY!" Knowing it was only his dead corpse, knowing he couldn't still be alive, Ginny couldn't help but launch herself across the room, throwing herself on the still body and sobbing.

Something fluttered over her hair. Fawkes's wing, probably. She ignored it.

"Nice to see you too, Ginevra," came a croaking voice that she had thought she'd never hear again. Flinging herself back, she stared in disbelief. Harry's eyes were open. He was smiling.

His shirt was torn open. The prints that she had left on his chest over a year before glowed lividly there; red-orange, they looked so much like Fawkes that she could only kneel there, blinking in disbelief.

She couldn't speak. Instead she reached out to him--to his chest, where the marks were slowly beginning to fade to white. To his forehead, where a trail of what looked like brown dust lay. She brushed it away; the skin beneath was pale but pink. And smooth.

"They told me I wasn't welcome. Mum. Dad. Dumbledore. Sirius." His green eyes glistened. "They told me I had some unfinished business." He reached up and touched her cheek, smiling.

Again she threw herself on his chest, weeping freely, afraid her own heart would burst. When she could breathe again she pushed back, just to look at him. He looked so whole. So tired. So happy.

"Ginny," he said, a small doubt flickering across his face, "did we...?"

When he peered up at her, she understood. There was a song inside of her--and perhaps it was in the room as well. Perhaps it was Fawkes. "Yes," she said. "Yes, we did." She leaned down to kiss the beautiful, unblemished brow where for most of his life he had carried his destiny. Only life, now. No more prophecy. No more doom. No more scar.