Three Options for Ginny

Three options for Ginny Chapter 04--Twisted Truth

The sun stood high when Ginny stirred and stretched in her bed. The first she noticed was her former professor sitting in the armchair and cradling a cup of tea in his hands and looking at her. "Good morning. You look rested."

With her still heavy eyelids, she was tempted to simply shrug but it didn't feel right towards him. So she straightened and said, "I slept... not well enough, but long enough. Thank you for letting me lie in, sir," she added sincerely, her eyes meeting his directly. While she didn't dare to have hope for her future, the man had indeed made these days easier for her and deserved thanks.

Her eyes asked for a confirmation Severus could not provide. He turned away since he could not face her. "It is of no matter," he said, hoping she would take it. It reality, it mattered a lot! For him, the night had not passed well at all. He had been awake, unable to think of anything but the treatment she was to face. Severus had relived the cruelties he had seen and especially those he had caused. His few moments of sleep had been filled with horrors all the same: his mind had made him watch her being misused, or even torture her himself, until he had given up sleep altogether and had descended into his lab for hours.

For an hour now, he had merely sat there and observed her sleep. He had watched over her drug-induced and very temporary peace of mind.

Severus Snape had been present at more interrogations, tortures and murders by the hands of his former master and his Death Eaters than he was willing to count. Ever since the second rise of the Dark Lord, since he once again answered his former master's calls, he had felt not only disgust for his own deeds, not only shame, but an utter helplessness. The few deeds he was able to prevent, the few lives he might save, were nothing to the dozen that met their end with Severus watching and even participating.

The more he was confronted with this utter helplessness, the more he had closed his heart against the pain, against the hollowness that came from his lack of power to overcome Evil.

This time, it would be worse, so much worse. The girl, or young woman, had sat at his table, had lived, slept and sometimes even smiled in his rooms. She had willingly shared her knowledge with him, but during the process he had learned to see so much more than facts. Her generally positive attitude towards life startled him, especially after her encounter with Tom Riddle. The love she felt for her family and friends was a concept alien to Severus. Her family life had been lead by a balance between giving and receiving, all Weasleys taking comfort in being together. The scenes he had witnessed had often been filled with feelings so warm that he had no words for them.

She had worked on herself for hours a day. Whenever she had asked for advice, Severus had given it to his best knowledge. He had given more than the bare minimum required to protect the Order and his own activities. He had tried to prepare her for... what? For an easier death? Had he only prepared her for selling herself as expensively as possible?

NO! She should live! With is entire mind, he wished her to live. Even if he did not see the way now, he was determined to risk a lot, to take any burden to have her live.

These were the most positive thoughts his mind had provided. The desperate moments had been clouded by what would happen if Severus failed, if she was to die. Nothing would be the same after that. Oh yes, the automaton called Severus Snape would continue to support the Order, to keep an eye on Draco and to thwart the plans of the Dark Lord. But even more than before, he would crave death, silence and nothingness. Every square foot in his pitiful home would mourn her. The sofa would cry out Severus' inability and his cruelty to the heavens to hear, and for him to hear them, to torment him day and night.

While she was in the bathroom, he Banished his cold tea and Transfigured the bed into the sofa, willing himself to think practical again. He was arranging the new wrap carefully when she emerged. They both stalled. What to say? He cleared his throat. "How stable are these Transformations you put on the cloth?"

A mixture of surprise and delight flashed over her face, but she answered matter-of-factly. "The resizing is permanent. The pattern copy lasts a week before the colours fade rapidly. Mum uses ColourFix Potion to stabilise them. The cloth needs to steep... ah but you would know. Mum repeats--repeated--the process every four month; if she had the time and the potion."

"I have never much cared for these household potions."

She bit her lips in embarrassment, before she hesitantly revealed, "Mum found this particular procedure in one of these Lockhart-book. Merlin knows from whom he has stolen redecoration potions."

Severus growled, "I refuse to use anything from this source on an item in my house." He eyed the throw again and then looked back at her. "I will check for another book."

He likes it, Ginny noticed and her heart made a jump. He isn't angry any more. It wasn't the fact as such that warmed her heart, since her doom was hanging like a sword in the air. But Draco had pointed out that Severus Snape would not have invested several hours every day if he hadn't seen a chance for success. He wanted her to be comfortable, because it would help her through the night. If he saw a chance there should be one, she decided.

:*:*:*:

Narcissa Malfoy arrived with a look of apprehension on her face. The elf she had in tow quickly busied herself in the kitchen. "Severus, Draco, nice to see you. And..?" Her voice didn't sound as if she truly wanted to know.

"Ginevra Weasley, Madam," Ginny said in an indifferent voice. The face of the woman in front of her contorted instantly, but then she seemed to remember something and plastered a non-committal but tired smile onto her face. Ginny was not sure where Draco's mother stood. She had forgotten to ask. Probably she should be grateful to get clothes and even be addressed personally. Compared to their short meeting at the Quidditch World Cup, the witch had not aged, but actually wasted away.

It soon appeared that Mrs Malfoy had similar problems with this situation. She knew her son to depend on this dark, mysterious man, and both men treated this unworthy twit with a strange respect. She settled on being civil, but she was considerably more reserved than her son.

Ginny tried the three robes the woman provided. Draco flinched slightly when he saw them. They were certainly the worst his mother owned, if she had ever worn them herself at all. But Ginny wasn't supposed to show off. They quickly decided on a navy blue skirt with already shiny press folds and a night blue robe, where the second clasp had been mended on haphazardly. With a flourish of her wand, Narcissa removed about two inches in length as well an inch in width from both pieces. "Modest, but clean," she confirmed. Ginny would wear her white Muggle shirt underneath.

Once settled for lunch, Narcissa looked around, blinking in irritation. "Severus, have you changed something in the house? It looks different today than last time I visited. Brighter?"

"The colour scheme has been changed recently, Narcissa."

Her face relaxed as she acknowledged him. "A pleasant choice, my compliments!"

Severus nodded in acknowledgement while Draco could not avoid an amused glance in Ginny's direction.

After two more polite exchanges that Severus kept purposefully short, they remained quiet for the rest of lunch. Soon thereafter, Narcissa left them with a doubtful glance back at the girl.

The afternoon passed and the dreaded event drew nearer. Ginny forced down some fruits and savoury biscuits with her tea, because she was going to serve the meals for hours and then still needed her strength during the interrogation. It wasn't sure when she would get food again. Maybe I won't need food after... she could not help thinking. Encouraged by both men, she helped herself to more tea. She swallowed down the sweetened warm drink as if she could drown her fate.

Observing her surreptitiously, Severus alternately engaged her in not-too-meaningless tasks and left her the space she needed. He would have liked to allow her a stiff walk in fresh air, but opening the windows at times with a strong westerly wind had to do. He successfully avoided being asked for a potion. Any manipulation of her body or mind would inevitably weaken her and grant the Dark Lord access. He had dreaded her asking--which, thankfully, she did not.

:*:*:*:

It was time to go. The men clad in their heavy cloaks and they all left for the forest. Once outside the depressing housing area, Ginny inhaled deeply. They took a detour and walked at a brisk pace to an Apparition point unknown even to Severus' visitors. He held Ginny with both hands and they Disapparated. Their Dark Marks would guide them to the unknown destination.

Used to Side-Along Apparition with her family, Ginny recovered quickly from the irritating displacement. Cold damp air surrounded her. Her eyes strained to see details in the dim light. What was this place? A cave? A cellar? A dungeon?

Through a corridor of sorts, they reached a large room where the tables had been set in U-shape for a banquet. The place in the centre of the head table was decorated as the Dark Lord's seat. At the door, two young Death Eaters held guard. They quickly made Draco move to the right, to the lower places.

Severus was greeted with a deep bow. He was accompanied to the places of honour. "Sir, our master wishes... "

Before the sentence was finished, Ginny was pushed roughly backwards to the neighbouring room. "You'll be called," they barked at her.

And so she waited.

:*:*:*:

Severus and Draco looked around to register as many details as possible. Severus checked who was placed where, who was missing or surprisingly present. This information was inaccessible for Draco and so he investigated the walls. Could they hide doors, traps or other surprises? It was hard to say, since the paltry light from torches lit the walls punctually only. Additionally, candles were floating over the tables, illuminating them well enough, but not reaching the walls. For someone standing inside the U of tables it would be impossible to gauge the actual size of the room. The walls might as well open and allow any creature in.

The Dark Lord called for Severus. Draco positioned himself in a corner to keep an eye on the door where Ginny was. It would not help much if she was relocated but he felt slightly better this way. Soon he was ushered to the right because more Death Eaters Apparated in. Almost all had the silvery masking spells on their faces and Draco didn't recognise them.

Two masked men came out of the room where Severus had gone. The tall one surveyed the scene and possibly his eyes rested just a little longer on Draco than on anything or anyone else. Only when he took the seat at the right of their master, Draco was confident that this was his mentor. Yet, he could not be sure. He had not followed the other person and now it was too late.

Their master entered when everyone was seated. Draco was unable to say from where he had appeared. The man next to Draco jumped and fidgeted. They all stood up, bowed deep and greeted their master. He spread out his long thin arms in a gesture of an embrace. "My dear and most faithful servants take your seats. I wish for you to enjoy the evening, to look ahead and not back."

The tiniest of murmur appeared among the youngest Death Eaters. He addressed them directly with the most soothing and gentle voice. "Yes, I know, it is hard, and believe me, I'm moaning with you."

At the sound of the voice a flash went off in Severus' mind showing him the sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle soothing a distressed girl. A wild rush of disgust threatened to consume him. He gripped his tights in a desperate fight against the urge to jump up and squeeze the man's throat. The revolting snake-in-the-grass does not give a damn about anyone's life. It makes me sick but they are too pathetic to notice it. He stopped his silent tirade when another thought came up. So was I for too many years.

"Think of your future," the high-pitched voice interrupted Severus' musing. "Remember, that you can form it. You can make our future great! Let's enjoy this meal together like a big family." Upon his wink, the young guards opened the door. Two elves and one by one three captives started serving. A much louder murmur than before arouse when, as the last, Ginny Weasley entered, carrying a platter of herring aspics.

She did as they had been instructed: serve as quickly as possible, don't look left or right. It certainly suited her own needs not to look at these faces. Yet, she realised eventually that she could not look at people properly. Everybody showed stiff, uncharacteristically plain, ageless, metallic features that hardly moved with their words or the chewing movements they must make. She figured that she did not see faces but a silvery glooming masking spell, but she had little time to wonder about it.

Soon, all participants were eating and drinking. The elves were shunted into the empty room and forced to rest, which filled them with agony. Now it was up to the two ministry clerks and Ginny alone to serve the 150 people. Lacking their wand they had to do it the Muggle way. They ran around, sweating and panting. Wine here, rice there, I have ordered a beer, can't you hurry with the fish? She brought food in and carried plates full of bones or empty gravy boats out. She painfully concentrated on looking at the wall rather than towards the people as she passed, but they asked questions when she filled their glasses. They expected answers, and they expected her to look into their eyes. If she appeared preoccupied, the neighbour would ask another question.

Whenever turning around at a corner, she Occluded her mind. She was incredibly glad for the training she had received. As the time passed she could find patterns in how people behaved. Some would repeatedly set up a ridiculous request; others were a little less nasty. Three of the younger men were certainly better behaved than their peers but which of them, if any, would be Draco, she could not tell. She could not afford the time to search for him.

In a short moment when the Dark Lord had turned to talk to the woman at his left, Ginny saw a mask flicker and recognised Severus Snape sitting to the right of him. She memorised the fact but could hardly risk a glance at him. He was repetitively talking to their master, but in her constant rush she had no time to consider it.

:*:*:*:

Eventually, they had cleaned the tables from all plates and dessert dishes. More than only the lower ranks had consumed enough alcohol to free their tongue. At the lower end, some people burped freely, but such behaviour was not heard closer to the Dark Lord. There were fewer requests from the tables, and often one of the three servants merely took a moment for himself somewhere at the entrance.

They should not have appeared lazy! As soon as he noticed, the Dark Lord demanded that the first of the two ministry clerks be presented. He was to go to the centre of the room, facing the table head.

The Dark Lord hurled question after question at the man about his private life as well as the Ministry, composing the most preposterous accusation to make him lose his composure. He applied Legilimency and the Cruciatus Curse in rapid succession. With each lash, the man divulged something more about the structure of the Ministry or another detail of his life. At times he fidgeted, and sure enough, the high-pitched voice interrupted his talk hissing, "Liar!" It might be possible that he was a very talented Occlumens, but Ginny's experience with the Ministry of Magic told her otherwise. This man was only a secretary, who would not even have access to the hottest information. He neither lied well nor did he know much.

If she was not busy, Ginny could not help watching the clerk scream, slither around on the floor and tremble in the aftermath of the curses, mostly the Cruciatus Curse. In between curses, two formidable Death Eaters forced him upright with his eyes towards the Dark Lord to facilitate Legilimency. He was often bombarded with totally different topics than before to break his concentration. He gave up a few more details with each assault.

In an effort to keep herself sane, Ginny cut out the noise and let her eye travel over the assembled Death Eaters. Three young women in the middle ranks had serious troubles watching and listening. Eventually one of the men next to them stood and looked up to the Dark Lord in question. He got an impatient wink and left with two of these women. The third woman, however, remained and froze in panic. She forced herself under control and her neighbour hurriedly ordered a Fire Whiskey for her. Another man left with two other women, one of which was clearly pregnant. When Ginny brought the drink, the remaining woman uttered a thank you. It was the first nice word Ginny had received all evening. "Get a grip on yourself, darling. Quickly now!" her husband or friend commanded anxiously.

Already before her interrogation, the girl from the ministry was reduced to a sobbing rag somewhere in a corner. She had been sick all over her robe and was unable to stand or even hold her head up. Thus it was Ginny alone serving, which presented a rather welcome occupation. Ginny averted her eyes from the scene in the centre of the room and concentrated on serving drinks; beer here, wine there, cider over here. And more frequently now: whiskey. She dearly wished she could avert her ears as well as she managed with her eyes but the worst screams penetrated her concentration.

Eventually, the Dark Lord was finished with the Ministry clerk. "Out with him!"

Suddenly, Ginny felt cold sweat run down her back. She busied herself with an order while the man was carried and kicked into the empty room and the young girl was put forward. She didn't show the least bit of resistance, hung apathetically between the guards and let everything just happen. She had given up all resistance immediately so that inflicting more pain could not reduce her any more. Everyone rapidly lost interest in watching her. She had nothing to tell on her own, and the Legilimency didn't seem to provide anything useful either. The Dark Lord waved dismissively. "Pathetic performance, her whole life has been pathetic. Crabbe, finish her off!" He leisurely indicated the formless mass on the floor.

A young stout man that could well be Vincent Crabbe went forward. With a rapid gesture he cast the Avada Kedavra. The green flash hardly caused a shiver through her body. Her death became evident only since her weeping stopped.

That was it, now it is my turn.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we've saved the best for the end," the Dark Lord announced. "There is still one last piece of entertainment for the evening. And I expect a bit of a better show from her, I dare say. If she is anything close to her... boyfriend? Yes, my friends, we will see the performance of none other than Harry Potter's girl. Give a big hand for Miss Ginevra Weasley!"

Years later, Ginny could still recall this interrogation, if not all the questions and answers, then the sensation, her effort and concentration. She was asked and she answered as she had trained. He assaulted her mind and her body in turns. She presented what she had prepared. In between, she was in incredible pain: stinging, cutting, or thrumming pain, but she did not allow herself to lose control. At times, she turned her back to the caster, which didn't really ease the pain but directed it to lower parts of the body, allowing her to breath. As they had discussed, she tried to keep her eyes closed or averted from everybody but the Dark Lord himself.

Keeping her face neutral and her mind Occluded took all the concentration she could muster. Thus, whenever a curse hit her body, she could not help screaming and she found herself lying on the floor several times. The two men stood close and waited in case she would remain crouched on the floor. She forced her weakening body to obediently stand close enough and turn her eyes to the Dark Lord on her own accord rather than be suspended between the two bullies.

The Dark Lord searched through her mind, asking for her family life, her friends and of course her boyfriend, the Chosen One. At times he called her a liar as he shot another Cruciatus or a Burning Curse at her.

"Why did you visit Godric's Hollow of all places?"

"Harry wanted to look for his parents' house, or that of his grandparents. He searched for traces of the family he never knew. The Order found it safe to let us visit there." She had not finished the sentence when she felt him searching for matching pictures and called forth the scenes they had identified.

The Dark Lord cackled amused as he saw the family tree of the Prewetts. "Potter must consider you a good catch, then?"

"Harry has no need to..."

"Liar!" he spat and hurled a curse at her that stung like thousands of needles.

He made her feel excited or anxious, frantic or truly relaxed. Later she learned that he had enhanced each sensation also physically through curses on her nervous system. When a given mood was dominating her, he struck into her mind, searched for matching scenes and would have ventured uncaringly left and right had she not presented him with harmless, but matching, scenes of her childhood or school life. She avoided revealing anything from the last months before she had her mind a little bit under control and could present selected pictures.

At last, the Dark Lord stopped. His sharp voice penetrated the thrumming in her ears as he addressed the audience. "Well, I say, this was indeed a better performance than the last two." She felt too weak to shut out the whistling, the cheering shouts and the clapping from the group. The room went silent and she dared a glance up to see the Dark Lord lifting his hand before her head fell heavily down on its own accord again, sending a stab of pain through her neck. In an amiable conversational tone he turned to her one last time. "Thank you so much, Miss Weasley. I would say, take a seat, but it seems we don't have a seat for the likes of you here."

She stayed where and how she was; in a half-sitting, half-kneeling position in the centre of the floor. It served her well, as it naturally directed her gaze to the floor. She panted heavily and started counting her limbs.

The Dark Lord leaned back in his chair and regarded her apprehensively before he turned to his right. "Quite a personality, Severus."

"Yes, my Lord." Severus placed a smirk onto his face. Not many would actually see it, but their master would. "I have known her since she was eleven. This was no surprise. I have experienced her demeanour for several days now." Would their master react as he hoped?

"And so you will for a while still. I think she should return with you tonight." He furrowed his brows after that sentence.

"As you wish, my Lord. Do you believe Potter will go search for her, my Lord?"

"You have seen what I have seen, have you not? He is rather pathetic in his devotion, isn't he? And out of six brothers, there will be one trying. She isn't providing much information, but she has entertaining qualities."

"Indeed." Severus Occluded his mind as he turned his gaze back to his master. If they did not switch the topic rapidly he would burst.

"We will wait for Potter and the Weasley clan for another ten days. You will host her, if you don't mind."

"I am glad to serve you, my Lord." He put his right hand over his stomach-region and executed a slight bow.

"You are always good with words, but today you sound even more believable than normally, Severus. Bring her forth with the two of you on Sunday. She can serve us again. But for now," he raised his voice and commanded with force, "get her out of my sight!"

With incredible effort she was getting onto her knees on her own accord. Draco scanned the room: who would take her up? The two women approaching her didn't seem to be any danger for her, and he remained seated. It would not do for him to draw attention to himself. He was, after all, still on probation. Ginny hang heavily between the two witches but her legs made walking movements and she lifted her chin. She managed to demonstrate an amount of dignity Draco had not expected after her treatment.

:*:*:*:

It was a silent trio that Apparated to the first houses after the forest and slowly proceeded to Spinner's End. Severus surreptitiously held her body under a Levitation charm, which made the three look like a harmless group of late-night strollers.

Once again, the men offered water and applied some ointments on Ginny. Her external wounds that she had hardly noticed so far, healed rapidly. Draco uttered a surprise as he regarded her wrist. Two pairs of eyes settled on him and he explained, "This was a fresh wound and it was magically closed."

Severus regarded the arm and confirmed with a frown, "Someone must have sent a healing spell at you to stop the blood loss. We will treat the scar later."

They all felt better with every piece of skin they returned to normal. Severus tried his best neither to lose his nerves, nor to openly praise her incredible willpower. Inwardly, he could not help admiring the young woman. She was important to him, not only as a symbol of what was right, but for himself, someone he could relate to, admire, respect.

After a while she stood up and walked around as if to demonstrate she could. Severus could not help sending her a knowing look: stiff movements betrayed her, and when her glass slipped from her trembling hand she twitched at the noise rather than realise it was broken. "Evanesco, Reparo! You should relax, Miss Weasley." When she insisted on having a bath, Severus was rather reluctant. "You may shower, of course. I will fill the tub a little, and you should sit down. But I cannot permit you a full bath; it is too straining." He cast a warming spell on the floor and the tub for her comfort.

Ginny felt a lot better afterwards and was eager to drink a whole jug of lukewarm pumpkin juice. She only stirred in the offered porridge but had a biscuit.

She wanted to talk, it appeared. Severus had very often felt that urge when he had returned, but while he had found himself reporting news to Albus Dumbledore, she had nothing to tell that he would not know. She tried not to jump back and forth in time, and yet her report would not have made much sense to someone from outside. Serving people whose faces she could not see, but knew to be her enemies had been so unsettling that she had nearly forgotten what was to come. Quite a few Death Eaters had attempted to put her under Legilimency while she had brought them a drink. She had re-enforced her shield whenever she had approached the tables. "I can't say if they penetrated my shield, but I'm certain they found nothing we wish concealed."

While the other two had been interrogated, she had worked against her increasing trepidation by recalling the statements she was to present.

Already while the first clerk was tortured, trembling hands had betrayed more than one Death Eater.

When she came to her own interrogation, however, words left her. She fell silent for a while before she asked, "How have you managed that for years, sir?"

"I never said it was easy. You did well tonight. I would not have imagined that." Damn it, now he had revealed more than he had wanted to. "More juice? Tea?" he added rapidly.

"Yes please, I'm so thirsty." She hardly realised his compliment.

Severus explained that the Cruciatus left everyone dried out. Besides that, she had been running for hours with her servicing duties.

After another two glasses full, she leaned back and wondered, "Do you think Harry saw me?"

Severus selected his words carefully. "The Dark Lord has taken care not to reveal much to Mr Potter lately. In this case, however, he could have wanted him to watch. He left you alive as bait."

The girl blanched. "Goodness, Harry must not come. He will only be captured. If only he understood. He is having a hard time with me, sir." She hesitated when Severus raised an eyebrow. "But sir, haven't you seen this?"

"I have. And I have seen more than the Dark Lord has. We removed a bit from your memory yesterday. Things you were afraid you might reveal."

"What?" She jumped slightly and leaned forward. Her weakened body hardly managed a strong tone, but she looked very disturbed, indeed.

"We agreed on this procedure, but to complete the matters I had to Obliviate this moment as well." Severus saw how her brain worked. After a while she leaned back and her face relaxed. Yes, she accepted the concept as such. "One memory we had to remove was how you and Mr Potter broke up. He is not blindly in love as you thought tonight." She frowned. "You thought so because we wanted the Dark Lord to think so. I propose you do not ask for the other tiny details we removed. You are not stripped off your past."

"Uh, I'll have to think about this. It is hard not to remember the end of a story, sir."

He nodded. "You should go to sleep now. I would give you a potion, but my experience speaks against it. Your brain needs time to process the events. You will have a fitful sleep. I will give you something in the morning and for tomorrow night you can have a Dreamless Sleep potion. Make the best out of the night, now."

At his doorframe he hesitated. "Come and wake me any time." Ginny nodded with the tiniest of a smile.

:*:*:*:

Ron awoke with a start. On the other side of the room, Harry had let out a cry and was now sitting upright in his bed. His eyes were wide open but apparently not seeing.

"Harry?" Ron prodded cautiously but received no reply. Ron crossed over to the other bed. Harry was not lucent. His forehead was covered in beads of sweat. His hands were shaking. A nightmare!

They all suffered from nightmares since Ginny was gone and had sometimes awoken with a shriek. But this case looked differently. Harry was sneering, laughing, and yet trembling. He didn't have control over his body. He gestured wildly with his hands and he clutched his scar repeatedly. He was like possessed. Voldemort!

Hadn't Voldemort cut off his connection with Harry?

With the next distorted sneer, Harry said, "...a big hand for Miss Ginevra Weasley," as if in appraisal.

For an instant, Ron was petrified. He shook himself out of it and rapped hard on the wall behind Harry's bed while his other took hold of Harry's shoulder.

Harry was still sitting bolt upright, swaying lightly for lack of body control. With his body and both his hands, Ron kept him in balance, careful not to be hit by Harry's hands. He rapped at the wall whenever he could spare a hand.

"What is it?" came a sleepy answer.

"It's Harry! Come over, quickly." Together with Hermione Ron stuffed Harry's and his own pillow in place to support Harry's rigid upper body. They leaned him to the wall but his arms and hands worked against their effort. "Should we wake him?"

Hermione bit her lip and her eyes showed how torn she was. "If we want to know what happens, we must not wake him. Poor Harry." It sounded so cruel, given the state Harry was in. But he would not want it otherwise, and everyone in the Order was desperate for knowledge about its youngest member. Or member-to-be.

The nightmare had lasted for almost an hour, when Harry finally sank into the cushions, shaking worse than before, but slowly gaining consciousness. "Harry. Wake up now, it is over. Harry!"

"Ginny!" he exclaimed with widened eyes.

It still took a while for Harry to wake up fully. "He has interrogated Ginny."

"Tell us!" Ron demanded.

"No! Firstly, Harry, how do you feel?" That was Hermione, of course. "We need to know it all, Harry. But you must feel ready to tell us. Is now the best time, or later? Do you want anything, tea?"

"I... I need a moment. Call them into the kitchen. Tea is fine, too." He clutched his scar again and fell back into the cushions. In a bright moment, he told them, "She is still alive." Then he inched under the cover, turned to stare at the wall and ignored them.

Ron felt more able to breathe and Hermione's tense features relaxed. She placed her hand on Harry's shoulder, steadfastly ignoring how he tensed under her caress. "Alright then. Ron, you see that he is properly dressed. Warm, I mean. Including slippers or socks! The kitchen floor is chilly. Don't rush him. We need to wait for everybody anyway." And off she went, leaving Harry in Ron's care. That was his Hermione, ever considerate.

The last to arrive in the kitchen of number twelve, Grimmauld Place were Tonks and Remus Lupin. They had fetched a Pensieve from the Ministry and explained, "We must be able to replay it to detect details."

Waiting for what seemed hours, Harry was more than ready to start. He had already assured the Weasleys that Ginny comes out alive, but he didn't want to relive the details more often than necessary. The Pensieve was a good idea.

Headmistress McGonagall opened the late-night meeting. "We are all here," she noted satisfied. With a flick of her wand she distributed small sheets of parchments and set a pot with quills and a few bottles of ink on the table. "Everybody, please refrain from interrupting. Take notes instead. Please start, Harry."

With a nod, Harry began. "There was a big meeting in a room with U-shaped tables. Me--that is Voldemort, in the centre of the head table. I interrogate... no, a young woman is interrogated, but she disappoints me... him."

He stopped his ramble and regrouped before he continued. "She has worked in the ministry, but she doesn't know anything important. He's angry, since she wasted his time. He makes Crabbe junior kill the woman. Now it is Ginny's turn. He presents her like..." Harry breathed deep before he felt ready to finish the sentence with a pained voice, "like a film star in an American TV show." There was irritation in many eyes, but Hermione 's head bobbed in acknowledgement, her eyes never leaving his.

As Harry went on, Voldemort's anticipation and hatred fought a battle against his own fear and disgust threatening to strangle him at times or then again cause his chest to burst. To get it over with and maintain a minimum of objectivity, Harry stared out of the dark window for most of his report without focussing his eyes. He told them how his friend was being asked and tortured and what Voldemort had seen in her mind.

Harry didn't dare to look at any Weasley when he finished. "In the end he lets her return with Snape who starts asking something. I was... cut off... at this moment. Snape sat directly to his right, by the way." Still caught in his memory Harry hardly noticed how the last remark garnered a few hisses.

Eventually, Harry refocused on the here and now and served himself to more tea. Several people had parchments with notes. Molly Weasley's face was white as a sheet, Arthur's and Charlie's deeply pained. Remus and Moody had several notes and were finishing their last one, both trying hard for a professional attitude, which Ron had lost already. Hermione was scribbling wildly and must have been rubbing her eyes repeatedly.

Moody was the first to gain speech. He was visibly moved more than he wished and had to clear his throat. "There are a few people in this room who should not have heard all details. I would like to go even deeper into some of them. How do we proceed?"

McGonagall concurred, "I felt the same. Let's start with the non-critical things then. How did Ginny look, is she harmed?"

"Is THAT what you call non-critical?" an infuriated Molly Weasley shouted. Arthur took hold of his wife, comforting her as much as he searched for comfort himself.

"No, Molly. Not for her and not for her family or for all her friends. This is why we start with Ginny's well being," McGonagall clarified and turned to Harry. "What did she look like?"

Harry recalled the beginning. "When he started, she was sweaty and exhausted, but not in pain and not injured yet. Composed, and I would say... prepared. In the end, she crouched on the floor, panting heavily, bleeding from an arm, drained, yet, not in any state like other victims of his torture. He must've wanted her to stay alive. She worked her head and feet, but I didn't see her getting up."

Before everybody bombarded Harry with his or her questions, Moody fetched the Pensieve. "You should funnel everything in here now, before we go on." He instructed Harry how to go ahead and ten minutes later they were satisfied with the operation.

Harry still recalled the view but could consider it without the disturbing joy he had sensed from Voldemort. He let out a breath. "How do we get her out of Snape's clutches?" he asked no one in particular. The mix of several answers flooded his brain and made him hold his hands over his ears to shut out the noise.

McGonagall called for silence. "Alastor, Ron, Hermione, Harry and I will be the ones to analyse this memory in detail in the morning. We have confidential knowledge," she declared. With a far softer voice she added, "Molly, I fully understand, you want to see her again. You and Arthur can watch selected parts, but the whole scene should best be kept closed." The old Auror nodded with satisfaction and snatched the Pensieve as he left the house.

Harry nearly collapsed under the flood of questions the Weasleys had on Ginny herself. When there was a tiny break, Hermione ushered them to their rooms, but none got any more sleep that night.

:*:*:*:

Ginny had a hard night after her encounter with Voldemort. She didn't sleep for a decent time in a row. Every so often, she woke up with a start, sometimes from her own cry, sometimes from a dream, where she had once again looked into these cold red eyes. At other times, she didn't really know why she was sitting upright in her bed, shivering. Her clothes and hair were soaked in sweat.

Twice, Severus went over with warm, sweetened tea that she drank greedily. On other occasions, he would just sit on her bed, wipe the sweat on her forehead with a cool damp towel and let the warmth of his hand on her shoulder pacify her. He never spoke a word and retreated when she felt comforted, as if he could somehow recognise this point.

Ginny checked the clock: 5am. She put down her tea. "Thank you so much, sir. I will manage for the rest of the night. I'm fine if you close the door. Put a silencing spell, if you need, and have a few hours of rest yourself."

"I will do no such thing, Miss Weasley. But if you agree, I will now stay put unless you call for me."

Early Thursday morning, Severus silently crept out of his bed, checked the sleeping form on the converted sofa and proceeded down to his lab.

Ginny didn't stir until Draco clattered with the breakfast dishes. Did he have to be so noisy? The smell of coffee and fried eggs filled the room pleasantly. Aching all over, she took her time to get ready. Her head was still thrumming when she sat down and although she handled her cutlery with utmost care, every sharp noise made her twitch. She gratefully realised how carefully the men avoided clattering with the dishes.

After taking their breakfast together, Severus provided her with a potion against the physical exhaustion. Her stiff muscles relaxed and walking and using her arms was easier. She stretched at her professor's advice before they shortly summarised the events of the night. Her part had gone well, very well. They decided to take a day's pause in training Ginny. Her predicament was much the same and she still needed support, but the men had to take up most of their normal training schedule for every nosy comrade to see.

:*:*:*:

The men went outside and boosted the protection spells around the house. For once being let out, Ginny watched them apprehensively. "Dad and my eldest brothers do the same. They have a set of spells, some of which you use, too. Some are different. How often do you repeat this?"

"Weekly."

"Dad and Bill did it biweekly when I was small. In the recent years, Dad insisted on repeating the spells weekly."

Severus nodded in agreement, turned and voiced provocatively towards Draco, "More wizards live in 'inadequate housing.'"

However, he provoked the girl rather than the boy. "What's that supposed to mean? The Burrow was a great place to live! We might have a ghoul and there are gnomes in the garden... " Severus flinched at that, "... and Dad and Mum sometimes don't make ends meet, but its home!" she insisted, silently adding, and I'd like to see it again.

Severus quitted the unspoken words with another nod and a sigh before he gestured them inside and explained. "Mr Malfoy here was of the opinion that I am wasting my time. I should replace the Muggle walls with magical stones."

"Instead of eating or of dressing? Mum has checked the prices--no way!" Ginny exclaimed.

"Alternatively, he proposed that I sell the place and buy myself a manor with two or three elves, was it so?" Ginny had nothing but a snort for that.

They only had a thick lentil soup for lunch. While the men ravenously ate third helpings, she remarked, "I see the protection spells affect your hunger just like Charlie and Dad's. They always return famished. When George helped Dad the first time, he wasn't half that exhausted, but they had to respell already after 5 days. Mum was furious." She swallowed once as she recalled why and since when Fred or George had to do it: Percy wasn't visiting them.

"Furious?" Draco wondered innocently.

The amount of ignorance infuriated the girl. "The spells are exhausting and Dad had given all he had. There is a reason he does it on Sundays, when he has time and he's relaxed. With the four floors of The Burrow, it takes tolls."

"Oh, four floors," Draco gave in, "the most negative point I see in this exercise is that we are relaxed and safe on Fridays, which leads us to the worst of all training sessions--second wand." Despite Ginny's confused look, he did not elaborate.

In the late afternoon, Draco and Severus made for the forest to train what they called chasing. As Ginny took in their Muggle jogging outfit she could hardly suppress a grin. They had matching pants and jackets of a shiny glossing material and Draco's trainers even sported two golden stars. Her former professor wore a suit with mainly grey and black, although he had not been able to get around some green insertions. His lean muscular body showed much better in this sort of outfit and she wondered idly what made him hide it behind layers and layers of stiff, formal Victorian clothes and billowing robes. His long muscular legs showing, he really didn't impersonate a bat or the Head of Slytherin House.

She would be imprisoned alone in the house but was allowed to have her wand. "I'll do a bit more foolish wand-waving on the armchair, if you agree on that."

"Certainly, Miss Weasley." Snape reached out to fetch three tomes from the Potions shelf. "You might check these books and look for a potion to stabilise the spells. Otherwise, feel free to peruse this shelf as well, but do not touch any of the books over here." The books in the shelf he indicated rattled indignantly or sighed as if in disappointment. "The restricted section at Hogwarts exists and is restricted, for a reason! The training material for Gringotts curse breakers cannot compete with what these have in stock, and I prefer to find you with your heart on the left side and your head on your neck, when we return. I trust you feel the same. Anything amiss and you get a Sleeping Draught plus a Full Body Bind next time!"

"I would not dare, Professor," Ginny provided with a smile. One of Bill's mock-treasure-chests had once chased her all around The Burrow, but she would not have assumed he remembered her panic. The experience was enough to imagine what the library of a Death Eater might have in store. Besides, there were more things to do than read.

:*:*:*:

Trying to remember what Parvati had told her about the Indian kitchen, Ginny prepared an abundance of hot meat curry, lots of rice and fried vegetable. It did maybe not taste genuinely Indian, but it was just what men needed after the spell work on the house and their chase.

As soon as they returned, Ginny eagerly asked more about this chase game of theirs. It was Draco's task to chase his mentor and in full run transfigure objects to make him trip, force him to change path or simply hit him. Their teacher, on the other hand, had set himself the goal not only to avoid being injured or distracted, but also cast objects out of his way and regularly emit protection domes. Further, he was to keep them out of sight from Muggles, although in their newly acquired light jogging dress they were usually greeted most friendly by Muggles who considered them fellow runners.

"What do they run for? Is there a war among Muggles as well?" Ginny wondered and took in Draco's explanation with irritation. "They run for fun or to keep themselves healthy? Weird!" The boy concurred.

"Over the weeks, our physical performance has profited at least as much from the chasing as our spell work," Severus commented. "The little wood appears smaller every day and we already insert laps through the allotments."

Once again realising how little she knew about Muggle life, Ginny asked, "What is an allotment?"

"There is an area with small pieces of garden land. Muggle families can rent a patch, an allotment, to grow their own vegetable and fruit, should they wish to but don't have a garden behind their house." For a second, their teacher's eyes went distant as if the idea had called back a memory.

Ginny nodded. As he went to have a shower, she took up her book, but had switched to another one when he returned.

Over dinner, they discussed Mr Ollivander's remarks about siblings in relation with two wands. "It's a disaster," Draco started. "We cannot seem to get this right, although our ancestors must have been able to handle several wands rather naturally." The men did not manage even a handful of spells with the new wand before they felt the urge to run for their old wand again. "I have never been drowning but the description fits to how I feel every time I dash to the other end of the room for my wand," Draco said. "However, what our problem has to do with siblings, as Mr Ollivander insisted, is clearly beyond me."

With concern, Severus observed his involuntary housemate's restless search for a distraction. She purposefully avoided any time for contemplation, fearing perhaps it would bring up thoughts related to the Dark Lord--be it the meeting the day before or the meeting following on Sunday. After a dinner with the maximum amount of useless chat he could possibly endure, however, Severus needed to discuss Wednesday's events with Draco. As she realised the men's intent, Ginny fell uneasy again and escaped into the bathroom. Sighing surreptitiously Severus acknowledged her need to get some distance and, lacking an alternative, offered her to retreat into his bedroom. He provided her with the two promised ointments: one was to be massaged in against muscle aches and strained nerves or inner organs and one would pacify her irritated skin. It should be applied in a thick layer and let dry. He had a Dreamless Sleep potion at the ready as well.

Thankful for the offer, Ginny anyhow wondered how to occupy her mind. The last thing she wanted was having no external stimulation. As this household held nothing else, she shortly went to peruse the bookshelf. She haphazardly grabbed a Muggle book with a colourful cover and was about to take her leave when her professor stood next to her. "What is it you selected?"

She frowned as she saw two men's names on the book. Which would be the title, which the author? Suppressing a shrug, she simply showed him the cover page. Her professor considered her a long time. Ginny felt he saw exactly how little she knew about this book or Muggle literature in general. "Are you familiar with this book, Miss Weasley? Do you at least know the author?"

When she shrugged, he advised, "While normally I would say it is a good choice, I recommend dropping it for tonight." He snipped with his bare finger and two books from the lowest shelf flew into his hand. "These books provide more distraction with less effort."

Not caring much, Ginny took them together with her potions text, excused herself and closed the door.

Severus added a light voice-muffling spell on the door. She could hear their voices but would not be forced to understand the words. The result reminded her strongly of evenings in her early childhood; when she had sometimes lain awake in her chamber. The voices of her parents and eldest brothers had reached her via the staircase in a similarly comforting way.

Outside in the sitting room, Draco enquired, what her first choice had been.

"In the first chapter a young, poor woman of unknown origin dies after giving birth to a boy. The boy ends up in an orphanage where he shows a surprising strength to survive."

Draco jerked his head in consternation. "Do the Muggles know that much?"

"No, the book is far older. Yet, it is a coincidence I could not recommend for her right now. I will not deny you the pleasure to read it--after we have finished here."

Ginny applied and massaged in the oily cream. With its help, her body was able to recuperate. Was the ointment denied and the torture repeated, the organs would start sending inexplicable signals to the brain. The victim would gradually be caught in their own wondrous world and hardly able to react reasonably on information from outside. With a shudder Ginny remembered Neville's parents.

It was with hesitation that she installed herself on the bed of Severus Snape. There was, however, no other place to do so and she sat there a little stiffly first.

Unable to concentrate on her reading on temporary mood altering potions, a topic typical for the O.W.L.s, she took a look at one of the colourful Muggle books she had received: The Hill of the Red Fox, an adventure on the Scottish island of Skye. A children's book? Yes, well her professor would have been a child, she supposed, although she was unable to picture him as one. She perused the first page that held scribbled comments that adults would not understand a boy's need to read. The discussion between mother and aunt of the hero were a bit heavy for Ginny's liking. She would gladly watch her mother quarrel... no!

Quickly she took up the second book. The dark haired thin man on the back cover looked serious and a little worn but not unkind. She read he had been sick ever since his childhood but had come up with this wonderful and thrilling book. On the front cover a boy hid behind a barrel that served rum to a set of rough seafarers. They were aboard a ship sailing to a Treasure Island if the title was an indication. Skipping many pages of introduction to the author, his other works, the book as seen by various critics and whatever else it was, she finally found herself in the Admiral Benbow Inn somewhere near Bristol reading about a one-legged seafaring man.

She was well into the second chapter when she rather suddenly felt her nerves and tensions relaxing. Her shoulders and knees relaxed as the ointment kicked in. The sensation let her calm down so much that she fell asleep, unaware of how she had assumed a lying position.

:*:*:*:

The same day, the group led by McGonagall investigated the memory repetitively. They felt uneasy that they hardened against the pain she had experienced but even after the fourth time they felt none the wiser. Ron ran his hand through his hair. "She tells a lot. But then again... I don't know, I cannot... Something does not feel right."

"Profound research and formulated so eloquently, Mr Weasley," Moody commented dryly, while his magical eye swirled around to make sure that there wasn't anyone untoward listening.

Offended, Ron returned, "Can you put your finger on it then? What is it that is so weird with her story?" When he didn't get an answer he leaned back and would have crossed his arms in satisfaction had it not been so grave a situation. Instead he covered his face with his flat hands saying, "This is no good. We do not get anywhere and she is out there with ..."

:*:*:*:

On Friday morning, Harry, Ron and Hermione trained outdoors with the old Auror counselling and correcting them. It felt good to be more active after the paralysing days following Ginny's capture. However, they were easily distracted, and in miserable shape.

Harry decided to pass an opening between abandoned buildings alone, securing his back against Mad Eye's rattling Chain spell. He was promptly hit by a Bludger from the left. "You are three, take advantage of that. Stay together and agree how to cover all directions." They regrouped and repeated the drill, painfully noticing that the fourth member was missing.

Three hours later, when the first helping hands and curious eyes arrived, the trio trotted back into headquarters, thoroughly beaten and severely discouraged.

Remus went over to Moody, asking what was going on with them. "Un-concentrated is what they are," he snarled, "and easily distracted."

Remus argued that Harry's last nightmare would of course rattle them, but Moody could not concur. "Potter needs to train; constant vigilance, determination, skill. Since he is operating better in a group I take the others along, but he is the key person. He must learn to focus and not to stray. Time works against us."

"I've been wondering the same, when I observed Ginny Weasley in Harry's nightmare. Why on earth have they been spending their time on ancestry."

Moody turned his normal eye on his face, while the other swirled around. "Explain!"

As Remus elaborated his thoughts, both the old man's eyes stared at him. A few sentences into his talk, Remus was interrupted sharply. "Save it, Lupin. We must contact the headmistress."

The trio had their subdued lunch in the large kitchen when Moody declared "We need another meeting; Lupin and the core team. Potter, you ask Minerva, in case she has a visitor." They looked up in surprise although Harry was glad that Remus would now be more involved.

Harry rushed to the hearth, knelt down and tossed a handful of Floo powder in. "Headmistress McGonagall's office!"

Soon he caught a glimpse of the empty office of the Headmistress. Many of Dumbledore's aged, huge quartos had been replaced with considerably smaller books with light covers. There were examples of beautifully transfigured objects on the shelf opposite the hearth in which Harry's head dwelled. The most striking difference to Dumbledore's times was, of course, that Fawkes was gone. His perch held now a peacefully self-transforming object that reminded Harry of several hard lessons in Transformation. It was right now a glass bowl and he assumed a wonderful rose would be the next step. How he had sweated last year to achieve this particular step, while Hermione had produced rose after rose with light snips of her wand and a satisfied expression on her face! He turned left to find an ordinary desk. Their former Head of House would certainly have had her own massive desk transported into her new office, but her private quarters had been close to her Gryffindors, i.e. high up in the tower that was no more. Her furniture had either been damaged or destroyed, Harry assumed.

A coat-hanger of sorts stood close to the exit sporting Professor McGonagall's tartan shawl and a cloak with matching lining.

The door to her office opened, and she entered together with Rufus Scrimgeour. She immediately drew her wand at the sight of a face in her fireplace. "Mr Potter?"

Drat, the Minister. This must have been why Moody had not contacted her himself. Harry gathered his thoughts. The man was not to know details and he was already gloating at McGonagall's jumpy reaction. "Good evening, Professor, Minister. Uh, I see you are busy. I'm sorry to disturb. Can I contact you later, or maybe tomorrow?"

She looked at him intently and he simply looked back. "I'm sure the minister and I will have finished in an hour or so." Harry was relieved that she had understood the message. With a short "I will contact you, Mr Potter," he was dismissed. He nodded and took a last look up. The object had passed through the stages required for N.E.W.T.s and was currently a match. Harry withdrew slowly to get a last glimpse of the now shiny steel pin.

:*:*:*:

In the evening Remus went over to his late friend's son. "Harry, do you have a moment?"

"Sure, what is it?" Remus' disturbed gaze took the boy by surprise. What had wound him up so? Was he to hear what had motivated Moody to take him into confidence?

"About family. I'm... concerned to learn that it still pains you so deeply not to know more about your father's family." His voice sounded more annoyed or even angry than concerned though.

A little disappointed at the irrelevance of this topic, Harry replied, "Remus, no. What gave you the idea?"

"You four have spent a shocking lot of time checking family trees of all things. I failed to realise it before I saw the snippets of Ginny's report. Please Harry, do not make it an obsession. They were good people, but searching through your family tree like that will not give you any satisfaction. Did not Dumbledore give you a rather concrete task?" He paused to verify that Harry understood but the boy's jaw was clenched and his stare hard. Remus took a deep breath. "Look, Harry, when this is over, we can have a chat about your grandparents, search the archives for great achievements of their parents if you want. Right now we are at war. Concentrate on..."

"I'm not sure I'm following you, Remus," Harry interrupted him in a sharp tone, annoyed at being chastised for no reason.

"You're not any better or worse, even if the Weasleys can trace their family back and you can not."

"What? I never thought you'd accuse them of such a thing," Harry said, "and I see no reason for this discussion." He stomped off towards his room, frustrated and angry.

Remus sighed. He should have listened to Mad Eye and left the topic for the next day.

:*:*:*:

Ginny woke up with a start in the middle of the night. She was in her makeshift-bed. Her dreams had let her watch once again how the ministry clerk had been interrogated and tormented mercilessly. Revisiting the scene had been just as bad as the first time. She was trembling all over.

Her legs and arms felt very strange. They were covered with a thick, but somewhat elastic film--the skin ointment. She was sure she had never applied it, though. The jar with the remaining ointment was placed next to her bed, as was the Dreamless Sleep potion. Grateful, she applied the ointment on her more private body parts and gulped the potion.

She snuggled back under her cover and was just thinking how nice the men had been, helping her without waking her, when the potion kicked in.

The sun shone into the room when she opened her eyes the next time. It was Friday already, and, judging from the sun, about time to get up and shower off the strangely viscose layer of ointment. At least physically she felt very much regenerated.

:*:*:*:

For her own safety, the men didn't allow Ginny access to the lab. It would only harm her to know too much, maybe it would even require Obliviating her. She picked up her book from the evening before and was soon drawn into the story in very much the same way she remembered from her early childhood.

For lunch, Severus appeared with a flat basin full of the derivative of Lockhart's KeepColour Potion Ginny had found the day before. Until evening she had not only steeped the new sofa cover and the cleaned curtains in the basin and washed the liquid over the armchair sporting the new pattern as well, but she had also finished a chapter in her Potions texts for additional reading for O.W.L.s. Best of all: she had not had time to worry. She was very satisfied with herself.

Meanwhile the men had once again resumed the dreaded training with their second wands. To no avail, Ginny noticed with a frown. She had herself snatched a wand of some of her brother's more times than she could remember.

Over dinner Ginny asked for the explanation Ollivander had given them. Remembering details of their approach and their struggles, it made sense to her. "Can we try once again? I have an idea."

In a mood of graciousness, Draco agreed to follow her instructions. He was to keep his primary wand in the wand pocket of his robe. "Do a simple hover spell with the new wand." It worked satisfactorily.

"Now take the main wand and do something of sixth year, or what you've recently learned." Of course that went fine.

"OK, wand two again, Transfigure this match into a needle. Ah, well we've seen better needles, try again, Draco ... good! Now do something else, something simple, from first year. Now switch back to your old wand for a sixth year charm."

Soon, Ginny instructed both men to try first and second year spells with their second wands, but never more than three in a row and never depositing the first wand some place off as they had tried before. "The first wand must not get jealous. It isn't jealous if it senses that the second wand is used for simple spells only and you go for the old wand when you're at your limits." After several fallbacks and corrections they got the hang of it.

"How did you know that?"

"Treat them like siblings, Ollivander had said. I was thinking how Mum and Dad handled us at home. For example for going to bed: Dad read a story to Percy and the twins, while Mum spent much more time with Ron and me: she undressed us, helped in the bathroom and finally sang for us. Uh, well, she tried. Later, when Percy could read, Ron sometimes was with the story, if it was a simple one. He was also supposed to put on his pyjamas by himself--although I learned that the same year. If the twins wanted a gruesome story, Ron got his own one, or a song together with me. I still loved the singing when Ron expected demanding stories that I didn't understand or like. After we younger ones were tucked in, they still checked on Percy, Charlie and Bill. You see, they cared for each of us in the way we needed it and felt comfortable. Bill certainly wasn't jealous of a song!"

Draco shook his head, "Our wands must feel comfortable, Severus!"

"Yes," Ginny insisted. "You see, the older wand does not mind sharing, as long as it isn't abandoned, or mocked. I assume you can proceed to third and fourth year soon. But don't train these with your first wand, it would feel miffed."

"Ginny, stop lecturing on the emotional life of my wand, please," Draco drawled.

She chose to ignore his remark, warmed by his using her first name. "Once you master all spells with both wands, they care more for equal shares. Like older kids do. I mean, I want some time with my mother and father, but I can accept that the others want their shares, too. I believe they now consider me an equal--or they bloody well better had. My guess is as time goes on; you can also leave one wand at home for a day without insulting it." She had talked rapidly and finished the last part in even more of a hurry, to not be overcome by the longing for her family. Now that she was finished, it hit her hard, and both men felt uncomfortable and insecure how to treat her.

Before retiring, they made a plan how to train the next day. "A pity really that we need not invite Ollivander again!" Draco said.

Severus agreed. "I will order him here for tomorrow's dinner in any case; to show him our success."

:*:*:*:

Saturday morning; Harry, Ron, Hermione, Alastor Moody and Remus Lupin met Professor McGonagall in her office. Moody wanted Remus to tell them how he had perceived the scenes about ancestry.

More carefully this time, Remus related how surprised he was at Harry's obsession with his family. "You have checked the Potters and the Lundells, your grandmother's family. Ginny seems very comfortable with her own family; proud even. She almost pities you, although I never have had the impression that the Weasleys -or the Prewetts--have stressed the point of pure-blood lines."

"She messed up my investigation on the Crockford family into a silly excursion to ancestry!" Hermione huffed, more than a little upset. "She got it all wrong. This was not at all what we were doing."

Ron nodded, looking concerned. His sister was stuck in company of Snape, was it a wonder she was confused? It was a relief she wasn't more disturbed than that.

Remus looked from one to the other. "What were you looking for then? You checked the Malfoys, which is to be expected, close friend that he is." Remus remarked with a sneer and continued about his observations and conclusions. "Since you have once been fooled by a Crouch, I understand why you checked on them. They are a well-known, old pure-blood family. That was maybe where you came across the Crockfords. You met her as one of the first witches when you entered the wizard world, didn't you? Probably that is why you remembered her name. Then you checked a bit on your Head of House and on the Dumbledores. All quite understandable, but..." He hesitated, unsure how to say what needed to be said without offending the boy. He settled on "Harry, this is not at all related to this war."

"Not related? We were explicitly looking for the Crockfords." Ron interjected. "They are more important for us than any of the others are. Hermione researched them through generations." He went over to lay an arm over the girl's shoulder. "She's done highly important research for this war. Don't you understand this?"

"No."

Harry considered once again that he wished they would tell Remus all about the Horcruxes. This misunderstanding was leading them nowhere.

Remus continued thoughtfully. "It's convenient though. From the information Voldemort has now, he would not guess you were looking for the Crockfords in particular. He considers it a childish pastime. I'm sorry, Hermione, if it doesn't give you justice, but I for one do not want him to admire your wits!"

"Exactly," growled Moody.

In the silence following this statement Remus quietly added, "I'm sorry, Harry, for accusing you of wasting time." He waited for the boy to acknowledge him and after some deliberation Harry nodded. They could need another thinker and, though he loathed admitting it, sometimes he could need a shoulder.

"Harry, could I ask you a personal question?" McGonagall asked tentatively.

Surprised Harry looked at her. She wasn't one to interfere in such matters as long as they were kept personal. "Yes, of course, pro... Headmistress."

"What was your... personal relation to Ginny Weasley when she was captured?"

"Uh, well. ... Oh, but professor you are right!" he exclaimed. "We had... agreed to terminate any... uh, romance. But Voldemort is made believe I'm totally smitten by her. Which, err, was true at some point." he admitted chagrined.

"How could she have misunderstood all of that. She isn't daft," Ron commented.

"And she wasn't. Not in this case," Harry interjected. "You see, actually Ginny... she uh," he continued softly, "she ended it. I was overprotective, she said, and she would not need yet another brother. She initiated the break-up, not me. She would not misunderstand that now, would she?" he asked into the room.

"No, but..."

"This is the proof," Moody snarled, "she purposefully misled Voldemort."

"Oh but how would she do that," Hermione noted dismissively. "The art of Occlumency is highly advanced magic that requires systematic training over..." Ron kicked her lightly to stop the recitation.

Moody outdid himself with a little speech, when he reminded them, "Miss Weasley has a remarkable mental awareness. She can pry into other minds and she can protect her own from being stolen. Her Occlumency skills are amazingly strong for someone her age. I wished all Aurors... She must have Occluded or removed memories so that she could satisfy Voldemort's curiosity without harming the work of the Order."

They cross-checked it all once again. What did Remus understand of their activities? Not much. The criteria why and how they were looking for objects was totally lost on him. To Harry's relief he was now fully introduced into the concept of Voldemort's Horcruxes. He quickly noticed that they had far more knowledge about them than Ginny had revealed to Voldemort. "How is this possible? Did he not get through her mind?"

"Impossible," Hermione chimed in, but was once again interrupted by the Auror.

"He might not have tried with all force, which means she did not raise his suspicion. She was undoubtedly hiding key information from him and revealed trivialities. She even twisted facts beyond recognition. I'm more than impressed."

Hermione bit her lower lips in thought. She had not imagined it possible that the cheery girl that preferred a broomstick to a good book any time, would excel in such a skill.

"She did prepare herself for her O.W.L.s, Hermione," Harry reminded her. "Exams she never had the chance to take," he added.

Still puzzled by the notion that her younger friend would have such control over her mind, Hermione distributed six sheets of parchment and took a quill. She drew a middle line top-down. The left column got the title 'She tells', the right one 'We know'. She looked up to find everybody just watching her. "Go ahead, do the same!"

Once again they went through the memory, each of them filling the left column. Then all but Remus filled their right column. On Hermione's order they circulated the parchments counter-clockwise and each went through their neighbour's observations.

Gradually, the parchments filled but after three steps none of them had anything more to add.

"Could she have managed that all by herself?" McGonagall wondered. True Gryffindor that she was, the whole idea of Legilimency was appalling to her. Even if Albus had pointed out the use of this art, she could not but consider it grey and tinted; Slytherin, in one word. Like Moody. Had it not been for Harry she would never have agreed to his training them all.

"It is not possible. She must have had a guide and a counterpart." Moody said. His natural eye considered Hermione as he continued, "Muggle boxers would say a sparring partner and a tough one at that."

"Yeah well, we know a tough trainer of Occlumency," Harry provided, adding, "a true master of bullying and manipulating. I should have insisted she stay at headquarters." Before admonishing words of Hermione or the Headmistress could reach him he was out of her office. Ginny in the hands of Snape--it was the worst he could imagine. Topped with the fact that they had no idea where he might keep her, and that they would have no chance to get her out. Harry knew full well that they had promised each other not to take hazardous rescue actions, but it could not ease his pain.

Frustrated, Hermione murmured, "Not only a brother, but a second mother." She addressed them all saying, "Ginny was in Professor Snape's custody. He must have helped her. She is back with him now. We... uh, I guess we should be glad for that," she ended hesitantly.

"I'm supposed to be glad that my sister is stuck with Snape!?" With this the next young man stomped off. Remus followed, hoping to catch up with Harry.

Professor McGonagall regarded her top student. "Albus has insisted we trust Severus Snape. I do not know what to think now."

"Try to think like a Slytherin, Headmistress," Moody growled, bowed and left.

:*:*:*:

For three more days they perused the memory, the adults never neglecting the clearing work at Hogwarts. They couldn't agree on a conclusion. They looked for tiny indicators where the gathering had been, and they tried to identify the people present. They wondered about Snape and what role Draco Malfoy took, but neither of them could be seen in detail. Worst of all; they found no indicator whatsoever where to search for Ginny.

McGonagall knew roughly about Snape's childhood and she even located Slughorn to ask for his possible whereabouts. Wherever it was, he lived, the place was removed from all filings and most likely it was unplottable, too. The peaceful years he had spent as a Hogwarts teacher he had hardly left the castle over night. For the few occasions someone remembered, he had either attended seminars or they didn't know where he had been.

The Order would continue observing the same places and people they already checked. They had no better idea. Molly had, of course, noticed Ginny's blue skirt but no one could place it. Hermione and Harry declared the new t-shirt could easily be a standard model from a cheap Muggle chain. "It could have been bought anywhere, really."

The Aurors in the Order, Hermione, Harry, and even all Weasleys had to agree that, frustrating and cruel as it was, Ginny had to be... left, dropped. Abandoned and forsaken.

:*:*:*: