Searching for Dawn

Searching for Dawn

by cindale

Chapter 8

"Compulsion"

"So, what's your owl's name?" Lisa asked Ron from the front seat of the taxi.

Harry was sitting with Ron in the back seat, the owl's cage perched between them. He raised his eyebrows at Ron, wondering what he would say. Ron hesitated for a moment before answering.

"Pigwidgeon, but I call him 'Pig' for short." Harry had to suppress a snicker; Ron's statement was certainly true, it just didn't apply to the owl between them.

This was the first chance Lisa had to ask about the owl; they had been in meetings all morning at the American Ministry of Magic in Washington, D.C. After lunch, they traveled by floo to the wizarding district in Tulsa, Oklahoma, and were now taking a Muggle taxi to the airport to rent a car.

Despite the fact that it was only mid-afternoon, Harry was exhausted, and he noticed Ron looked knackered, too. In Britain it was late evening, so they had already had a long day. Harry desperately wanted to check into a hotel and get some sleep as quickly as possible, but he knew he needed to stay up as long as he could to combat what American Muggles called "jet lag".

When they arrived at the airport, Harry paid the cabbie, and they lugged their baggage inside, ignoring the strange looks they received for traveling with an owl. Lisa glanced around the airport and scowled at Ron. "I wish you hadn't brought Pig. He's making us conspicuous."

Harry was dying to say, "He didn't," but he kept his mouth shut and turned away to hide his grin.

"Sorry," Ron said, giving the owl a dirty look. "She can stay in our hotel room from now on." The owl hooted loudly in protest. Ron widened his eyes in alarm and hissed, "Shut up!"

"She?" Lisa asked. "I thought the owl was male." Harry felt a stab of fear, which was reflected in Ron's face.

Ron recovered quickly. He shrugged and said, "Oh ... yeah."

Lisa narrowed her eyes at both of them, but they distracted her by debating which car to rent as they reached the counter. Ron was extolling the virtues of a Mitsubishi Eclipse when she sighed in irritation and interrupted the dispute.

"A sports car will be too small," she said, looking at Ron.

"But we can ch-" Ron stopped as Lisa inclined her head and bugged her eyes in warning; Harry suspected he was going to suggest they charm the car to make it larger on the inside.

She turned to Harry. "And we don't need an SUV - there's only three of us, and we're on a tight budget."

Harry gave her what he hoped was his most charming grin. "You never know what we might need. I'll cover the difference."

"What are you - Midas?" she asked, as she searched through her purse for her wallet.

"Pretty much," Ron growled under his breath.

"Well, I'm the only one with an American driver's license, and I don't want to drive a truck." Lisa folded her arms and leaned back in a posture of defiance.

Harry fished in his pocket, pulled something out, and said, "No, I've got one, too." He gave her a huge grin, handed the license to the clerk, and requested a Ford Explorer.

When he had finished the paperwork and paid, the clerk handed Harry the key and said, "Enjoy your stay, Mr. Black." They turned to walk away, and Lisa grabbed Harry's license before he could pocket it.

Once they were safely in the car, Lisa gave Harry a furious look. "You just rented a car with a fake ID!"

"Sorry, but I don't like to advertise my name - it's amazing how many Muggles remember hearing it somewhere." Harry focused on backing the car to avoid Lisa's eyes.

"Wait ... that's where you were! You were here!" she shouted.

Harry looked at her, mortified, while Ron snickered from the back seat. "What do you mean?" he asked in a small voice.

"When you disappeared for a year - you were here, in the U.S., weren't you?"

Harry shrugged and focused on the road. "Yeah. That's why I used the false name. I wanted to disappear for awhile."

She examined the license. "Clever - James after your father and Black after your godfather. But I know you were born in 1980, not 1976."

He looked at her, eyes wide, shocked that she knew so much about him. "Yeah," he said slowly, turning his gaze back to the road, "I was born in 1980, but you have to be twenty-one to buy alcohol here." He extended his right had toward her, keeping the left one on the wheel. Lisa handed the license back reluctantly as he pulled into the parking lot of the Ramada Inn on the airport grounds.

Lisa got two rooms next to each other, intending for Ron and Harry to share. Harry planned to get his own room, but didn't want her to get suspicious, so he followed Ron into his room after she shut her door. He figured he could sneak down to the lobby for another room later.

Ron dropped his bags and turned his attention to the owl as soon as the door was closed. He opened the cage, pulled the owl out, and gently caressed her feathers. "It's okay, love," he whispered. "You're out of that cage now." Harry rolled his eyes in disgust as Ron kissed her on the beak and set her carefully on the bed.

When Hermione had changed back to her human form, Harry put his hands on his hips and said, "What do you think you're doing here?"

She did not answer, but stood and stretched herself in every imaginable direction, groaning as she worked out the kinks in her joints. "Merlin, it's good to get out of there! I'll be much nicer to Pig from now on."

When she stopped stretching and started smoothing her clothes, Harry took a step closer and said, "Hermione, I asked you a question."

"I thought you two could use my help. Besides, I can't go back now, so what difference does it make?"

Harry shook his head. "That's not good enough. You know you could get Ron fired?"

Ron moved between Harry and Hermione, facing Harry with his hands clenched into fists at his sides. His eyes were hurt and angry. "Since when do you worry about rules?" he asked. "And since when do you care about me?"

That stung. Harry turned away and said, "I'm going to get my own room. I'm sure you two don't want me sleeping in here."

He chanced a glance back at Ron. Ron shrugged and turned to take Hermione in his arms. "Are you okay?" he asked as he stroked her hair. "That was a long time to be in your animal form."

"Yes, I'm fine, but I'm starving. I haven't eaten all day."

"Want me to bring you a dead mouse?" Ron asked.

Harry saw Hermione wrinkle her nose over Ron's shoulder, but then she giggled. When Ron started chuckling, Harry rolled his eyes, shook his head, and walked to the door. He stopped just before he opened it. "Listen you two, order whatever you want from room service. I'll take care of it, okay?"

"Thanks, Harry," called Hermione, still in Ron's embrace. Harry left the room and went downstairs.

Harry requested the room next to Ron's, and luckily, it was vacant. As he walked back upstairs, it occurred to him that Lisa would probably come looking for them as it neared dinnertime. He decided he'd better prevent an uncomfortable situation.

When he knocked, she opened the door just enough to peek around with her toweled head. "Harry," she said, blushing. "I just took a shower. Can you give me a few minutes?"

"Er ... Sorry ... I just wanted to see if you wanted to get something to eat."

"Where's Ron?"

Harry thought quickly. "He's in his roo- ... our room. He's really knackered - I think he's just going to order from room service and go to bed early." He rolled back and forth on the balls of his feet nervously.

She pulled her eyebrows together, puzzled. "Knackered? Oh, tired. He needs to stay up and get used to the time difference."

"Er ... he'll get used to it tomorrow." Harry wrung his hands together; he had never been the best liar. "So ... do you want to go? There's only one car, and we can explore the city a little - might be helpful to our mission."

Lisa smiled. "I grew up here, so I know the city pretty well. But if you give me a few minutes, we can go get dinner. I'll come knock on your door when I'm ready."

"No!" Harry said quickly. She looked startled, so he said, "Er ... you might ... um ... wake up Ron. I'll just wait out here in the hall."

She gave him a strange look, half puzzled, half suspicious, but then shrugged and closed the door.

******************************************

Lisa directed Harry to an authentic Mexican restaurant in Midtown Tulsa. Over delicious tamales, Harry coaxed Lisa to tell him about her childhood. She had grown up as a Muggle, but found out her mother was a witch when she got her invitation to an American Wizarding school. Lisa knew Harry had grown up with Muggles, so they compared notes on what it was like to find out they were magical at age eleven.

It was a little disturbing to Harry that Lisa knew so much about him, especially since she didn't live in Britain. He commented that he was surprised that the American Press printed so many facts about him.

She reddened and stared at her plate. "They don't," she whispered. "I-I started taking the Daily Prophet when you were in the Triwizard Tournament at Hogwarts."

His shock must have been evident on his face, because when she finally looked at him, her expression became a little fearful. "I-I'm sorry," she stammered. "I hope you don't think I'm a freak or stalking you or something. I've just been fascinated with your story for years. I never thought I would actually meet you. Samantha - my boss - she knew you and Ron were coming, but she didn't tell me. I think she thought it would be funny to see my reaction."

Harry didn't know what to say to that, so he took a sip of his drink and wiped his mouth. When he looked up, he saw Lisa watching him intently. She looked at her plate and said, "I'm sorry - you don't really like being a celebrity, do you? I'm making you uncomfortable."

Her face looked so miserable that Harry couldn't help saying, "No, it's okay. Just treat me like a normal human being from now on, okay?"

She gave him a wobbly smile. When he returned it, it became more firm. He shook his head once, gave a bitter laugh, and said, "You know, what bothers me most about this is the fact that most of the Daily Prophet articles were very misleading. They printed what sounded good at the time - they cared more about selling papers and making the Ministry look good than telling the truth. I'll bet a lot of your 'facts' are false."

"Yeah," she nodded, looking thoughtful. "Like that summer that they tried to deny Voldemort was back - they made you out to be a liar."

"Exactly."

"What else did they print that was false?"

"A lot of things." Harry cast around in his head for another topic. "So ... where do your parents live now?"

It was still early after dinner, so they drove around town under Lisa's direction. When it got too dark for sightseeing, they returned to the hotel. Harry made a show of seeing Lisa to her room since he wanted her to think he was still sharing with Ron. But he didn't see her walk out of her room moments later with her ice bucket and stare curiously as he slipped into the room next to Ron's.

****************************************************

The insistent ringing of the phone woke Harry up early the next morning. "Hello?" he croaked into the receiver.

Ron's urgent voice whispered, "Harry, Lisa's just outside my door. You've got to get over here. I'll tell her you went for a walk, okay?"

Harry sighed heavily; he would have to shower later. He groaned into the phone and managed, "Okay," before slamming down the receiver.

He dressed quickly and went next door, thankful that Ron had left the door ajar so he wouldn't have to reveal that he didn't have a key. Ron and Lisa were sitting at the small table, sipping coffee. Hermione the owl was perched atop the television. "Morning, Lisa," Harry said as he shut the door.

"Good morning. Did you have a good walk?" Lisa asked this question sarcastically, causing Harry to give her a puzzled look.

"Yeah ... thanks." Harry walked over the table and took an empty chair. "So, what's on the agenda for today?"

Lisa set her cup down awkwardly, sloshing some coffee onto the table. She pulled her wand from her pocket and muttered a charm to clean up the dark puddle. "Um ..." she began, staring at her coffee, "there's something ... I uh ... need to talk to you about." She glanced at Ron and looked away quickly.

The men stared at her for a moment, waiting for her to continue. Ron finally prompted, "Yes?"

"Well ... Ron ..." Her words started tumbling out, one on top of another. "My gosh, you just got married ... your wife's thousands of miles away ... of course, it's not my place to judge ... I don't know where you found a woman so quickly ... you really need to learn to use a silencing charm!"

She finally paused to take a breath. Harry was fighting not to laugh, and losing the battle. His hand was covering his mouth and he was shaking in silent mirth. Ron was staring at his coffee, his skin a brilliant shade of scarlet.

Harry began to laugh out loud at the angry, puzzled expression on Lisa's face. He looked at Ron and managed, "Having ... trouble ... with charms ... mate?"

At that, Hermione flew over to Harry, landing neatly on his shoulder, and began pecking his arm and hooting angrily. Harry stopped laughing. "Ouch! What did I do?" He batted at the owl with his uninjured arm. "Stop it!"

"Will somebody please tell me what's going on?" Lisa demanded, the hesitancy gone from her voice. "You kept me awake half the night!"

Harry caught Ron's eye. "What do you think?" Ron asked.

"We can't have her thinking you cheat on your wife."

"Will she turn us in?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't think so." He turned to Lisa. "You won't turn us in, will you?"

"What are you talking about?"

Harry nodded at Hermione, who had stopped pecking at his arm. She flew to the bed, transformed into a human, and said, "Next time I'm casting the Silencing Charm, Ron!"

Lisa's eyes opened wide. She leaned forward, placed her hands on the table, and hoisted herself into a partial standing position. "Wow! That is so cool! I've never seen an Animagus transformation before!"

That wasn't the reaction Harry was expecting. He wondered what happened to the righteous indignation from earlier in the conversation. He stammered, "You've never seen one?"

Lisa continued to stare at Hermione. "No, they're illegal in the United States." She stood up straight and approached the other witch cautiously. "I guess it's not illegal in Britain."

"No," Hermione said, "but an Animagus is supposed to be registered with the Ministry of Magic."

"Oh." Lisa seemed to recover herself. "Hermione Granger, I presume? I mean Weasley, of course."

Hermione held out her hand. "Nice to meet you, Lisa." Lisa shook her hand firmly. "You won't turn us in, will you?"

Lisa gasped; she seemed to suddenly realize the situation. "Wait ... what are you doing here? This is an Official Ministry Mission! And you're not registered, are you? Oh, Merlin, we're going to be in so much trouble!" She slumped onto the bed with a defeated posture.

Ron, whose skin had faded to its normal color, stood up and approached the bed. "Lisa, we won't get into trouble if you don't tell anyone."

"Can you please keep this to yourself?" Harry asked in what he hoped was a pleading voice.

Lisa shook her head and let out a huge breath. "Well ... I guess it could come in handy ... in surveillance ..."

"Yeah," Harry encouraged, "and just think - you know something about us that the Press doesn't know!" He squirmed a little as he made that point, but he suspected it might convince her to keep quiet.

"Okay, okay." Lisa looked at each of them in turn. "But is there anything else I need to know?"

Ron and Harry looked at each other. "Well," Ron said, "she's right - it would come in handy for stakeouts."

Harry nodded and the next second the two wizards were replaced with a stag and a toad. Lisa gasped, but then said, "Well, I guess I should have expected that."

Harry and Ron changed back and then the four sat around the table. Ron picked up the telephone and ordered breakfast while Harry described his divination skills to Lisa.

"So you can read people's intentions - predict what they're going to do," Lisa mused aloud.

Harry shrugged. "It seems so," he said. "Whenever I confronted Voldemort, I always acted without thinking - on instinct. Or so it seemed. My tutor thinks now that I was reading Voldemort's intentions, and that the gift was enhanced by my strong emotions at the time. I'm learning to focus my thoughts and emotions towards specific people."

"That sounds more like Legilimency than Divination," countered Hermione.

"Maybe," Harry acknowledged, "but so far my readings have all been about future events." He shrugged again. "Maybe it's a combination of the two. I haven't made any prophecies, like people associate with Divination, but I can't read people's thoughts, like people associate with Legilimency."

Ron hung up the telephone and turned back to the group. "The point is, Harry should be able to predict where the Cloaked Vigilante will strike next, and we can be there to apprehend him." He looked at Lisa. "We also need to let you know that we have a suspect, based on the surveillance tapes your Ministry sent over. We think the Cloaked Vigilante might be Draco Malfoy, one of our classmates from Hogwarts. He's a known Death Eater, but he disappeared the night Voldemort died."

*****************************

Draco jerked the extendable ears from his head and threw them to the floor in disgust, angered by the sounds of copulation emanating from the adjoining room. He was developing quite a list of reasons to hate his father; his shagging of the Lestrange woman added one more.

He threw himself face down on the bed and imagined his mother sitting alone in their mansion, wondering where they were, wondering if they were even alive. His father pretended he didn't even have a wife, and that Draco didn't have a mother. Lucius hadn't contacted her at all since Voldemort was killed, and he had forbidden Draco to contact her, but Draco had managed to owl her a few times without his father's knowledge. It comforted him slightly that she knew they didn't die with Voldemort, but he longed to see her again.

He also hated his father for making him steal money from the Muggles to support his lavish lifestyle. It was so banal, robbing petrol stations like a common thief. Lucius made him do the dirty work while he ate lobster dinners and drank champagne with Bellatrix Lestrange.

Draco suddenly remembered the extendable ears; it would be disastrous if his father found them. He rolled off the bed into a standing position, picked them up gently, and rolled them up, hiding them carefully in the secret pocket he had charmed into his slacks. He hated to admit the Weasleys were useful for anything, but these gadgets had really come in handy. He remembered the conversation he had overheard two days ago, the real reason his father was making him research Remington sculptures.

One of the sculptures was supposed to have a crystal imbedded in its base that would give the bearer enhanced magical powers. Even though Remington had been a wizard, he had only sold his art in the Muggle world, so Draco had to do his research in Muggle libraries. He had already discovered that the sculpture his father wanted was in the Gilcrease Museum in Tulsa, but he wasn't ready to share that information just yet.

In all honesty, Draco wasn't sure the crystal even existed, or that Remington was really a wizard. It sounded like an implausible legend to him. The so-called "enhanced powers" the crystal imparted were only vaguely defined. But for now, his objective was to stall his father as long as possible and to figure out how to get himself out of this mess.

***********************************

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Lisa were bored. They were waiting for Harry to have a premonition of the Cloaked Vigilante's next strike. They had spent hours discussing surveillance tactics and sharing life stories. They had watched countless television programs and movies. Now Lisa was teaching them how to play the Muggle game called "Sorry", which she had transfigured from the room's coffeepot and coffee supplies.

The game was not going well for Ron, which was unfortunate since he was the only one who was competitive enough to care about the outcome. Two of his four yellow pieces were still stuck in "start", while his three opponents each had at least three pieces in play. On his turn, he drew a "four". He cursed and then added, "Not only can I not start another piece, but I have to move backwards!"

"Is he always this way about games?" Lisa asked, looking at Hermione with a little alarm

Hermione laughed gently and reached over to rub Ron's shoulder. "She's right, love, it's just a game. Don't take it so seriously."

"Easy for you to say," Ron grumbled as he slammed his game piece backward four squares. "You've got all four of your pieces out."

Harry's turn was next. He drew a "Sorry" card and laid it down gleefully. But when he examined the board, his mood changed to dismay. If he followed the rules and basic strategy of the game, he would have to move Ron's yellow piece back to "start". He looked around the board for an alternative. Hermione had a piece several squares behind Ron's; he could send her back to "start" instead, since she was closest to winning.

"Well?" Ron growled, looking impatiently at Harry. "Are you going to move today?"

Harry shrugged and replaced Ron's piece with his own, sending Ron back to "start".

"Why did you do that?" Ron yelled. "It would have made more sense to knock Hermione off - she's closer to winning."

"Calm down, love." Hermione put her hand on Ron's arm.

Harry shrugged again and grinned at Ron. "I thought about it, but I was probably influenced by your impatience, mate." He was hoping his levity would diffuse Ron's anger. He was wrong.

"You always have to be the hero, don't you?" Ron shouted, pulling away form Hermione's hand. "It's my job to protect her, not yours. I'M her husband, NOT YOU!"

Hermione grabbed Ron's shoulder and said, "Ron," in a warning voice. He shook her off again and stood up. Hermione shrugged, grabbed her wand, and quietly cast a silencing charm around the room.

"I know that, mate," Harry said quietly.

"No, I don't think you do!" Ron shouted. He clenched his fists at his sides, as if trying to hold himself back, and his voice became low and dangerous. "And where do you get off calling me 'mate'?"

Harry felt his anger rising; this was getting ridiculous. He stood as he said, "Maybe because we've been friends for eight years, Ron. Or have you forgotten that?"

"No!" Ron spat. "I certainly haven't forgotten how after eight years of friendship, you stabbed me in the back!"

Harry glanced over at Hermione and Lisa, who were staring at them with wide eyes. He looked back at Ron. "Look, Ron, this is not a good time to discuss this."

"You've been hounding me about it for days. I'M ready to talk about it NOW!"

Harry took a step toward Ron and said, "Okay, Ron, let's go to my room and discuss this privately!"

Ron shook his head. "No, Harry, now that I think about it, I don't want to discuss this at all." Before he even finished his words, he drove his fist straight at Harry's face. It hit with an audible crunch. Harry clapped his hands to his bleeding nose in shock and staggered back against the wall, blinded with pain. He saw the wild look in Ron's eyes and was a little frightened at the depth of Ron's anger.

When Ron swung again, Harry ducked feebly, and Ron's fist ended up in the wall, giving Harry a few seconds to recover. He punched Ron in the midsection, but he suspected his hand was more hurt than Ron's taut stomach. While he was still shaking the pain from his hand, Ron hit him in the face again.

Hermione and Lisa stood up as the wizards continued to pummel each other wildly. Lisa raised her wand, but Hermione grabbed her arm. "Leave them alone."

"Were they like this in school?" Lisa asked looking bewildered. "I've never seen anyone get into it like this over a stupid board game."

"This isn't about the game," Hermione said with a grimace.

Lisa threw up her arms in exasperation. "We're just going to stand here and let them beat each other to a pulp?"

"Unless it gets out of hand - yes."

"How can you just stand there and watch them hurt each other?" Lisa asked.

Hermione sighed and gave a sad smile. "I've spent most of my life hanging around boys. Sometimes they just need to get it out of their systems." Her smile became a little mischievous. "Besides," she added, "it certainly won't hurt Harry to have some sense knocked into him."

"How do you know Ron will win?"

"Logic," Hermione said. "Harry's got quick reflexes, but Ron's got five older brothers and Auror training. Harry doesn't stand a chance."

As if on cue, Ron knocked Harry to the floor and straddled him, hitting his face mercilessly. Harry raised his arms feebly, trying to ward off the blows. Hermione finally stepped forward to intervene, but Ron slowed before she could reach them. So she sat on the bed and waited, and finally Ron stopped, panting heavily. He closed his eyes, shook his head, and covered his face with his hands. "Oh, Merlin," he mumbled through his hands. He uncovered his face and asked, "Harry, are you okay?"

Harry didn't move. Ron scrambled off him and knelt by his side, grabbing his shoulders. "Harry," he said again, shaking him gently. "Harry!" he shouted.

Finally Harry groaned and turned his head a little. He opened his eyes and whispered, "Ron? Are you finished?" Ron looked down in shame.

At this point, Hermione decided to intervene. "Lisa," she said, "could you take care of Harry? You probably have a lot more experience than I do. Ron, come here - let me take a look at that eye."

She healed Ron's rapidly swelling eye while Lisa worked on Harry's injuries, which were much more extensive. When she was finished, Lisa helped Harry to the bed and discretely left the room.

Hermione sat next to Harry on the bed and took both his hands in hers, looking him in the eye. "Harry," she began, "I love you very much as a brother and a best friend. But I am very much in love with Ron. I have never had any romantic feelings for you, and I never will. Is that clear?"

He looked down, embarrassed, and mumbled, "Yes."

"Harry, look at me. I want to make sure you understand this." She waited for him to comply, and then said, "What you said to Ron the other night caused him to question my feelings for him. It's going to take me awhile to forgive you for that. If you ever say anything like that to either of us again, we will not be able to be friends any more. Is that clear?"

He looked into her eyes for a moment, and then forced out, "Yes," He dropped his face so she wouldn't see the tears in his eyes. "I-I'm sorry, Hermione. I guess ... I'm just having trouble ... adjusting ..."

Hermione smiled. "It will be okay, Harry." She leaned forward and gently kissed his cheek. "Now make up, you two," she said jerking her head to indicate Ron. She let go of Harry's hands and sat back to watch while the wizards stood up to face one another.

Harry looked at his shoes and mumbled, "I'm sorry, Ron." He saw movement out of the corner of his eye and realized Ron was holding out his hand. Harry looked up at him in wonder and clasped his hand eagerly. "Are we okay, then?"

"Yeah, we're okay," Ron said, grinning.

Harry couldn't help smiling back; the relief was overwhelming. "You've got a mean right hook," he said admiringly.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Boys!"

*********************************************

After a delicious and lighthearted dinner, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Lisa bade each other good night and went to their respective rooms. Harry was tired, his body still a little sore from the beating he took, but his mind was too alert to go to sleep. After flipping through television channels for awhile, he opened his laptop and logged on to the internet.

He was surprised to see that Ginny was online, and as he was typing a message to her, he heard the message alert. "Harry?"

"Hey, Ginny!" Harry typed. He hesitated, and then decided it wouldn't hurt to tell her. "Greetings from America!"

He waited for her message to come back, noticing it took a little longer to travel overseas. As he expected, she said, "What are you doing in America?"

"Ron, Hermione, and I are..." He stopped typing for a moment, debating how much to tell her. He finally erased the message and started over. "Ron and I are on business for the Ministry. Sorry, I really shouldn't tell you more than that."

"That's ok."

Harry thought about the time difference, counting the hours on his fingers. He typed, "Hey, what are you doing up at this hour?"

The answer came back quickly. "Couldn't sleep."

"Another nightmare?"

"Yes."

It didn't seem that Ginny was anxious to give any details, but Harry decided to try a gentle probe. "About the war?"

When the answer came back, it wasn't what he expected. "Is Ron there?"

Harry gave the screen a puzzled look and typed, "No, we have separate rooms. Why?"

"I don't want him to know I'm having nightmares. My brothers insist on babying me, and he'd probably tell Mum, which would be horrible."

Harry felt a rush of warmth in his stomach as he realized Ginny trusted him with a secret. He typed quickly to reassure her, "I won't say anything, I promise." He hit the "send" button and held his breath, waiting for her answer.

"My nightmares are usually about Tom Riddle and the things he made me do."

Harry let his breath out slowly as he contemplated that. He was amazed he had never considered that Ginny might still be suffering from that experience. He again felt the need to reassure her, and he typed, "I don't blame you. That was horrible. I still have nightmares about that sometimes, too."

"Really? You didn't tell me that."

The anonymity of communicating in this fashion made Harry bolder, but he still felt his face redden as he typed, "Because the dreams are usually about you. I dream that I didn't get to you in time."

"But you did get to me in time, and I'm very grateful."

He decided to change the subject. "What did he make you do? I know about the Basilisk and the messages on the wall."

"He made me kill all the roosters. That was probably the worst thing."

Harry felt a little sickened that an eleven-year-old would be made to do that. Then he remembered Tom Riddle's words in the Chamber, and typed, "Maybe. But you trusted him at first and it must have been awful when you realized he had betrayed you."

"Yeah. I think you're right - the betrayal was the worst thing."

While Harry was trying to decide what to say next, Ginny sent another message, "Remember the other night when we were talking? After I watched the movie at Neville's?"

"Yeah," Harry typed, wondering where this was leading.

"I had a nightmare about Tom Riddle that night. I was talking in my sleep, and Neville thought someone had raped me."

Harry felt that sick feeling in his stomach again as he realized Neville was right, in a manner of speaking. He typed slowly, choosing his words carefully. "Well, you were raped, in a way. Even if it wasn't sexual, the way he used your body for his own purposes was still a violation."

"That's true! I never thought about it that way before!"

"Now that I think about it, your spirit and mind were violated, too. No wonder you still have nightmares." Harry waited for Ginny's answer. After a few minutes, he began to worry that he had offended her. He typed, "I'm sorry. I'm saying too much."

The answer came back quickly, "No, Harry, you don't know how much this means to me. I've never been able to talk to anyone about this before."

Warmth flooded his body again; the wonderful feeling of Ginny's trust. He typed, "I understand that. There are a lot of things I have trouble sharing, too."

He felt his heart beating faster when he read Ginny's reply. "Maybe when you get back we can get together and talk?"

He quickly typed, "That would be great!" and sent it. Then he sighed as he remembered something, and typed, "Would Neville be ok with that?"

"We broke up."

Harry suddenly felt like he could fly without a broom. He tried to decide how to respond; he knew it would not be appropriate to say, "That's wonderful!" since he didn't know how she felt about the breakup. He finally settled on asking, "Why?"

The answer didn't come right away, and Harry began to get nervous. He wondered if she was devastated about losing Neville, and he had upset her. Then he wondered if she was angry because he was being too meddlesome.

When Ginny's message finally came, Harry realized she was just taking the time to explain it to him honestly, and he felt warm again. She said, "I guess it started because I couldn't talk to him about the dreams. He says there's a dark wall in me that he can't get past. He says I don't trust him. I guess he's right."

Harry couldn't help wondering why she felt she could trust him and not her boyfriend. Not that he minded, but he decided to ask. "But you can talk to me? You trust me?"

"Yes. I'm not sure why. Maybe because you understand what it's like to be used by Voldemort. Maybe because I wasn't in love with Neville."

Harry nodded at the computer. It made sense that Ginny might feel a bond with him because of the horrors they had experienced at the hands of Voldemort. Neville had suffered some trauma, but none directly from the Dark Lord. He was also glad that Ginny wasn't in love with Neville; hopefully that meant she wasn't devastated by the breakup. He couldn't bear the idea of her suffering further.

While he was contemplating this, he received another message from Ginny. "Hey, I've got to get some sleep. Thanks for listening, Harry. Goodnight."

He quickly typed, "Goodnight," but she signed off before he could send it. So he turned off the computer and went to bed.

He lay awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling, replaying the conversation in his mind. He relished the warm feeling he got when he realized Ginny trusted him and anticipated with pleasure the conversations they would have in person when he returned to England. Maybe they could help each other overcome the nightmares. The thought was certainly appealing.

When he remembered the last few lines of the conversation, right before she signed off, he suddenly sat up in bed. She had said maybe she couldn't talk to Neville because she didn't love him. Did she mean to imply that maybe she could talk to Harry because she did ...? Then he started wondering why she signed off suddenly. Did she feel she had said too much, or did she realize she had implied something she didn't really mean?

He got up and started pacing in the dark. Was it possible that Ginny was ...? No, not after what he did at the wedding. But she said ...

His thoughts and questions whirled round and round in his head, making him a little dizzy. Finally, one conviction became stronger than the others, and he flopped down on the bed from the force of it, burying his face in his hands. Ginny couldn't love him, no one could. No one could love him if they knew how the evil of Voldemort had poisoned him. True, Ginny had been sullied by Voldemort as well, but she had been a victim. He had purposely chosen the path into darkness.

He lay on his back for hours without moving, before finally falling into a restless, dream-filled sleep.

*****************************

Ron and Hermione were rudely awakened the next morning by a pounding on the door. Hermione groaned and rolled over. Ron shouted, "Go away!" without opening his eyes.

The pounding continued, and Hermione said, "Ron, make it go away!"

Ron cursed and struggled out of bed, pulling on his robe as he made his way to the door. He jerked it open and yelled, "What?"

Harry pushed his way into the room and shut the door. "It will be tonight," he said. "He's going to rob a convenience store tonight."