Egyptian Fire

Thanks to my beta reader Corisu Li!

Chapter One: Vision of Death

One Week into School...

Dear Diary,

Oh God, please tell me it's not true. I can't lose him--and why would a dragon come to Hogwarts, anyway? More importantly, how could its talons become nearly twenty inches long? I can't lose Ron, I can't. I'll die if he dies. It isn't fair. Diary, I've never been able to stop my visions from coming true. I mean, except for the one about Hermione, but that wasn't as severe as what I saw happening to Ron. I'm going to find a way, I swear by Hecate that I'll find a way. I was even given the date and time it would happen, so why shouldn't I be able to stop it? October 20th, tomorrow, at the very first Quidditch game of the year. What a way to start.

Someone sent the dragon--perhaps someone trying to get at Harry?

I'm sorry; you don't even know what I'm talking about, do you? Here I am, in an all out gabfest, and you've no idea what I'm going on about. I had a vision--I'm sure you've gotten that much. It happened yesterday during dinner. I was on my way to the Gryffindor table. Harry, Hermione, and Ron were walking side-by-side in front of me and they looked like two knights and a lady, their chins high, their shoulders squared with defiance. A group of people who just happened to save the world a lot were walking right in front of me, and I did what I always do. I tripped, accidentally falling over an accidentally placed foot, and smashed into Ron's back. He lurched forward, but quickly got his balance and turned around, amazingly having enough time to lighten my fall to the ground. He gently lifted my chin up, while smiling and shaking his head. "You've got to be more careful, Gin," he had chuckled and I had smiled and said 'okay'.

Only I didn't really 'smile' and say 'okay'--instead, I was gritting my teeth, images flashing behind my closed eyelids. It had taken my breath away. My vision was so intense that it hurt and I was told that I screamed like a banshee, throwing myself back, knocking my head into the floor so hard that the skin split behind, and I could feel the blood oozing down my neck. Ron later told me that he had pulled me into his arms, screaming for Harry to help him. He had been horribly worried because he hadn't been fast enough to save me the horrible migraine I have now--he thought it was worse than it was. I found out from Harry and Hermione that he'd cried in front of everyone and if you knew my brother, his temperament, then you'd know that it was a big deal for him to do that in front of the entire school.



Hermione told me that I had screamed for over two minutes and Ron had started demanding that Pomfrey tell him what was wrong with me. I still can't believe he cried. Ron's my favourite brother and sure he can be a little to over protective sometimes, but considering the tiny gap of age it was understandable. Ron wasn't one for crying. In all the years she'd known him she'd only seen him cry a handful of times. She could count each one of them one hand, but for her Ron had cried. I can't remember the last time he did that, I mean being the Boy Who Lived's, best friend, you'd definitely have something to live up to. Especially when said friend was always in the spotlight.

When I became conscious again--yes, it was a bad vision that made me unconscious for about an hour; I'm not sure if it was from the pain or from what I saw--I stared at Ron, who had fallen asleep against my leg, holding my hand tightly, and started crying. In the vision, after Gryffindor had won the Quidditch game, which it looks like I won't be able to play in because of possible head trauma (because of Ron, no less) the team was discussing what they'd do to celebrate. I walked up to them, and it was as if it happened in slow motion. The dragon--if memory serves me, it was a Hungarian Horntail--swooping down, its talons drawn, ready to strike. Before anyone knew it, before anyone could even blink, one of the claws with the twenty-inch talons rammed straight into Ron's body. Two went through his lungs, one went straight through a rib, and the last one, the lucky one, pierced his heart. He had died almost instantly, but before his heart stopped beating, he fell to the ground, where I ran, screaming and crying, to cradle him in my arms.

He said something to me that broke my heart even more. Taking a wheezy breath, he had said, "Ginny, I love you and I promise--" he paused to cough up blood, "I'll still take care of you. This world doesn't deserve--" he struggled to breathe a little more here, "your goodness--your strength." I cried, and he died. The vision had been so simple, happening as if it were the least important thing of the day, and so painful in just a few minutes. I will not let it happen. I have to stop it, why else would the PTB* give me the time, the place, and the day? I just don't know how and time is running out.

It's meant for me to stop it. It has to be, because if it isn't and he dies then that's it, I'm finished.



G.W.



Ginny dropped her quill against the fold of her open notebook, watching it roll through the three teardrops that had fallen on the writing. She sighed and took a deep, shuddering breath.


Why do I have to deal with this? I'm not strong enough. Ginny cried as silently as possible, trying not to wake up her roommates. For the millionth time, she prayed for Harry, Hermione, and Ron's strength. If only she had an ounce of what they had, then maybe she could pull through, but she didn't.


Ginny sobbed and lifted her tiny compact mirror up to her face. "I'm a weak little nobody."


She had been sitting within the embrace of her pulled maroon curtains and bed for the past four hours. Her roommates, who were unfortunately only acquaintances, had tried to ask what was wrong, but how would she explain?


I can just see their faces if I'd actually told them. "Hey I saw my brother's death, I felt his pain, I smelled and tasted the ounces of blood he was going to lose, and I felt him die. I let him die in my arms. So, how are you?" Yeah right, Ginny. Ginny snorted and shook her head.


If Ginny had explained to Luna and Colin about her visions, she'd probably lose her only two friends. Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Neville didn't really count because they more or less tolerated her presence. Luna would possibly be a little more understanding, but uneasy all the same.



Wouldn't you be uneasy if one of your friends could tell you what could happen to you? Ginny thought.


Luna, Colin, and Ginny could be classified as the weird, the strange, and the quiet, well, who was she kidding, she was the joke of the entire group, but all the same she loved her friends.


She had to get some sleep if she was going to save her brother's life, and since she couldn't get to sleep, the only way would be to get a sleeping draught from Madam Pomfrey. Ginny wasn't really in a descent mood; she was pretty sure that if anyone else knew that their favourite brother would die the next day, they wouldn't care what they looked like, either. She shrugged nonchalantly. It's not like anyone would notice that she was actually a girl, anyway. Like she'd said before, she was a little nobody--a gangly, almost flat-chested little nobody, and honestly, she kind of liked it that way.

She couldn't bear the hurt of the entire world--what good would it do for her to fall in love, knowing that there was no possible chance for anyone to love her back. She had tried; Ginny couldn't completely say that she hadn't. First with Harry, Dean, Colin, who'd just ended up being a friend, and another one that she couldn't remember. Of course that wasn't true, but Michael had angered her so before he'd broken up with her.


Ginny straightened her Chudley Cannons pyjama shirt and swung her feet down to the cold floor. It was Ron's new shirt and since he'd gotten a lot more bulky, it was three times as big on Ginny. Her old pyjamas, which were undoing at the seams, were currently in a waste basket, but Ginny had told Ron that they were just old and ripped on her, wanting to avoid any ridicule that might happen out of his mouth. So he had kindly offered a shirt; of course, he hadn't known that she'd picked his new one. The shirt was so long that it came to the middle of her thighs. All she had on underneath were a pair of white cotton knickers, but she didn't care. It was midnight--nobody would be in the halls anyhow and if they were, they wouldn't even see her.


"Now that I've thought that, I'll probably run into someone I don't like, knowing my luck," Ginny grunted, as she headed for the door, not even bothering to put socks or flip-flops on her bare feet.



****



"Oh, Miss Weasley, you scared the life out of me! Wh-what are you wearing?"


Ginny glanced down. "Pyjamas? Madam Pomfrey, I'm not feeling very good. I'm having a little bit of trouble sleeping."


"And you want a sleeping draught? Miss Weasley, you are aware of the fact that you have a small concussion?"


Ginny bit her lip. Damn, she'd forgotten about that, and considering her circumstances, it wasn't a surprise. "Yes, but I need sleep! I'll be fine. Please? I just--" Ginny tried to hold in the whimper that was threatening to escape, but with no luck, it came and her voice cracked with emotion as she finished her sentence. "I just want to stop thinking for tonight."


Madam Pomfrey's gentle, very understanding eyes stared into Ginny's. It was as if the nurse--no, Healer--knew what was wrong with her.


Madam Pomfrey sighed heavily and shook her head. "I suppose. However, since you've never taken a sleeping draught before, I suggest you take it when you get into your room. It'll work very quickly." The homely, but still sweet-looking woman walked towards her shelf and pulled out a tiny vial. "Here you are, dear," she said with a smile and patted Ginny on the head before gently nudging her to the door. "Now, get back to your room. Here's a note in case someone happens upon you."


"Thank you." Ginny smiled gratefully as she walked out.

When the door was shut, Ginny quickly popped the cap off and chugged it down. She needed for it to work as soon as possible. For the first time in her life, she wished she was old enough to get drunk, but then again, if she did, she'd be too sick tomorrow and that wouldn't be good for anyone, especially Ron.


"Lumos," Ginny whispered, flinching slightly at the brightness of the light.


God, my eyes hurt, she thought, holding in a groan. It was absolutely dreadful to get a headache and to have a nagging pain behind her eyes. She didn't know how anyone could handle this pain, let alone a migraine. Luckily, with the sleeping draught, her headache wouldn't progress into a migraine; she was most definitely not in the mood to start having blackouts.


As Ginny started down the corridor towards Gryffindor Tower, she started to sway. She shook her head and frowned. "Whoa, this stuff is quick," she gasped softly, extending a hand towards the wall. She snorted. "Guess I should have listened!"


She shook her head again, trying to clear it and stay awake. Ginny dropped her head lightly against the brick wall, and starting going forward, brushing the tips of her fingers against the rough surface.


Ginny suddenly started humming a song she'd heard from Hermione's music box one summary. Unchained Melody was a beautiful muggle song that, once she'd heard it, she had played repeatedly. Ginny had been with Hermione for two weeks that summer and she was sure Hermione would never listen to the song again.


"You know, if you weren't a Weasley, I might consider telling you that you have an amazing voice, except for that cracking in the beginning, but that would go against my code of ethics--or rather, that would go against my lack thereof," Malfoy drawled out, looking as if he'd just turned the corner to put himself into her line of vision, smirking at her.


Ginny stopped sliding against the wall, and pulling her head from the wall, cocked it to the side, frowning. "What?" she whispered somewhat hesitantly.


"I said that you'd better have a good reason for being out past curfew," Malfoy snapped, his eyes starting to take notice of her clothing, "and without proper attire."


"I have a note," she breathed out, her eyes lifting to his.


She cringed as she watched him appear startled for a minute at her eyes. "Right, then--let me see it," Malfoy spoke shortly, extending his hand and snapping his fingers.



"It's from Madam Pop-no-Madam Pomph--" Ginny stopped and blinked, snorting at her attempt to speak and stay awake at the same time.



She turned around, leaning her back against the wall, and began to slowly slide down. Malfoy jerked his eyes up and lunged forward, catching her. "Whoa--why in the bloody hell didn't you wait until you got back to your dorm?"


Ginny glanced up as she heard someone whisper 'rotten children, all they can think about is late night rumps'. She saw an old man with white pyjamas and a matching cap. His long stringy white hair covering the sides of his most likely wrinkled face. She blinked and noticed something in the corner of her eye. It was then that Ginny saw the masculine silhouette in the hall, a tiny bit of light shining behind the figure stopped her from seeing his face.


"Malfoy! You had better have a damn good reason for holding her like that!" Ron's voice boomed from twenty feet down the hall, his face barely noticeable, but what Ginny did see was definitely not good.


"Excuse me, Weasel, but considering it's neither the mudblood nor your rounds tonight I'm obliged to question your presence after curfew."


"I'm with Hermione. As Head Girl she doesn't really need to answer that, therefore I do not either," Ron informed him smugly, as if daring Malfoy to start an argument.


"Doing what?" Malfoy sneered in disgust.


Ron's ears tipped with red. "Not that, you sick pervert. Harry's with us, stupid ferret," Ron growled just as Harry came into view.


Malfoy sighed heavily, bringing his hands up to massage his temples. "I really don't have time for your crude immaturities. Orgies between the three of you are something I could've died without hearing.


Hermione glared. "Don't be foul, Malfoy."


Ginny snorted in laughter. "Orgies? What are orgies? Is it muggle slang?" she asked suddenly, causing Ron to choke, Hermione to blush, Harry to shake his head, and Malfoy to smirk at her. Ginny, slightly drowsy, glared at Malfoy. "What are you laughing at? Why do you know muggle slang anyhow Malfoy?"


Ginny watched Malfoy warily as he knelt down in front of her. Just as he started to whisper in her ear to tell her exactly what an orgy was, Ron leapt forward and jerked him roughly away. Harry went to Ginny and swiftly lifted her up into his arms.


"Stop trying to corrupt my sister!" Ron yelled, his face becoming blotchy with rage.


"Hey! Shut up!" a man in a painting yelled at them. "Tryin' to sleep here! Little brats," he mumbled the last part.


Ginny clucked her tongue and glared at the painting in front of her. "Well, that was just rude!" she said, looking highly offended.


Hermione frowned as she walked towards Harry and Ginny. "Her pupils are dilated. Ginny, have you been doing drugs?"


"NO!" she said, laughing it off as she wrapped her arms around Harry's neck, kicking her legs innocently up and down over his arms.


"Ginny, did anyone make you drink anything that tasted funny?" Harry asked softly, trying to force her to make eye contact.


She shook her head, her vision blurring slightly.


"Malfoy, if you ever touch my sister again, you'll regret it," Ron said, his eyes flashing with warning, his voice low and commanding.


"He wouldn't touch me--he's repulsed by me, and who wouldn't be? I'm freak," Ginny whispered, turning her face into Harry's neck and shoulders.


"Ginny!" Hermione scolded. "Don't talk about yourself that way! You are not a freak. You're a very special girl."


Ginny let out a guttural laugh and lifted her head up. "Special, freak, what's the difference?" she moaned and shook her head. "I've got these images in my head," she growled, her index and ring fingers digging into her left temple, "and they won't leave me alone. I see things and I just wanted it to be quiet! I took a sleeping draught. Madam Pomfrey said it was okay."


"She's barely making any sense," Harry mumbled, adjusting her in his arms better.


Ginny sighed. Perhaps if they actually listened they'd know it wasn't nonsense, but it was probably asking too much of them.


"Malfoy do you--where did he go?" Ron snapped, searching around, only to see the place where the boy had been standing empty. He glanced down the hall to see it empty as well.


"Who cares?" Harry said. "Thank God that he's gone."


"Ginny? What the hell are you wearing? Harry, her shirt's riding up--her knickers are showing! Ginny, if you weren't in this state, I'd kick you," Ron spoke softly, shaking his head.


She scoffed at him. "Ohh, this stuff works quick," Ginny stated, dropping her head against Harry's shoulder again.


"Hey, that's my shirt!" Ron spoke quickly, as if it just hit him.


Ginny giggled again. "Ronald, Ron--that's a funny name, but you're my favourite brother, so I'll tolerate your wo-weird name." Her laughter this time was deep and tired-sounding. "I'm so sleepy, Harry."



"I know, Gin."



"Question, how exactly are we going to get her back into her room? I can't carry her and neither of you can exactly levitate her up the girls dormitory steps," Hermione said, her arms folding across her chest, her eyes searching for the question from Ron and Harry.



"Well, what about you?" Ron asked.



"I told you, I lost my wand--I ripped a hole through my robe pocket. Why do you think we were out here?" Hermione said, becoming irritated, her tongue clicking at the roof of her mouth, her stance becoming stiffer than before.




"Ron, couldn't I sleep in your room?" Ginny mumbled against Harry's neck, her heavy eyelids slowly closing against her will. "I don't want to have any nightmares."



Ron pursed his lips together and sighed. "You're having nightmares again? All right. Harry, give her to me."



Harry walked over to Ron, who reached his arms out and pulled her to him. Ginny instantly fell closer to his chest and her breathing labored, indicating she was asleep.



****


"I'm not going to get in trouble for this, right?" Ron asked Hermione at the bottom of the steps that led to the boys' dorm.



"No--Dumbledore will understand," Hermione said, smiling down at Ginny and tucking a piece of hair behind the redheaded girl's ear. "Ginny seemed different tonight."



"You noticed that too, huh?" Harry sighed. "Not only different--something's wrong."



"Any idea what?" Ron asked, looking down at her.



"None," Harry and Hermione said at the same time.



"So, did you guys find anything about her little episode the other day?"



Hermione shook her head 'no'. "Not unless she's a Seer."



Ron snorted. "No way!"


To Be Continued...