Fame Isn\\\'t Everything

Chapter Four ~ So We Meet Again

Minerva McGonagall was pacing.

She should have been preparing for the start of term, as there were always so many tasks to complete.

However, she was not. She was pacing. The reason for her pacing was currently sleeping in a spare bed upstairs, but her agitation knew no bounds. Remus, sitting at the kitchen table eating a sandwich, watched her impassively.

They were in Twelve Grimmauld Place. He hated being there, but the intelligent, reasonable portion of him (much smaller than most people thought) knew it was the best place to hold such a momentous meeting--particularly as the persons who would be present were all wanted men and women.

Minerva McGonagall was still pacing.

"I don't like it," she burst out finally, slamming a fist down on the counter. "It's all wrong. Every bit of it. We finished this seven years ago, Remus. We ended it."

Knowing that now was not the time to point out that they had ended nothing, Remus merely nodded.

"It would seem our past has caught up to us," he answered sagely.

"It shan't catch me," she snapped. "Damn Albus and his bloody phoenix oath. That symbol will be the death of me. I have a school to run, Remus. A school that is near to closing. I don't have time to spend on a fool's errand!"

"Do you really think this is just a fool's errand, Minerva? I've given the situation a lot of thought, and there is definitely something not right about it. You knew Draco Malfoy at school and afterwards. If anyone was a likely candidate for the kidnapping of Jack Barnes, it's him. And yet he just so happens to have a convenient alibi."

"Suspicious or not, I don't see why we have to get involved. What could we possibly hope to accomplish? We ought to leave it to the damned Militia."

"That isn't the Minerva McGonagall I know talking," Remus said, hiding a smile. "And we can't because Ginny won't. She's in control of the situation right now."

McGonagall frowned, pursing her lips. "I will not be ordered around by Ginny Weasley."

"It seems we have little choice."

A new voice entered the conversation and Remus and McGonagall turned to see Charlie Weasley standing in the doorway holding a sleeping little girl.

"Am I early?" he asked. "We came as soon as possible."

"Charlie," Remus said warmly, "good to see you again. And who is this?"

Charlie smiled and smoothed his daughter's red curls with one hand. "This is Katelyn. My daughter."

"I didn't know you were married," McGonagall said softly, looking at the little girl with a smile.

Charlie's own smile faded slightly. "I'm a widower. Sofiya died three years ago."

"I'm sorry."

"That's all right. Where is everyone else? I'd be lying if I said I was eager for this reunion to begin."

Remus shook his head. "The others aren't here yet. Ginny's upstairs sleeping." He noticed how Charlie tensed slightly at his sister's name. "It's time Charlie. We're going to leave you alone for a while, to discuss what needs to be discussed, before we get to the reason we're bringing everyone here."

Nodding slowly, Charlie said, "Is there anywhere I can put Katelyn? My sister-in-law is here as well, they'll need a place to stay."

"We've cleaned out several of the rooms for guests," McGonagall said. "The doxies were especially hard to get rid of. One would think they migrate here for the winter."

"It's August," Charlie said with a small smile. "But thank you. I'll take them upstairs. When will this eventful meeting happen, Remus?"

"As soon as the others arrive. Why don't you get settled?"

Charlie nodded and disappeared up the stairs, Katelyn still asleep in his arms. Remus looked at McGonagall and sighed.

"This isn't going to be fun."

"I think I'll absent myself for several hours," McGonagall replied.

"What, and miss the hysterics, screams, and general sounds of chaos?"

Remus started as another new voice interrupted. It was Fred Weasley with George trailing right behind him. They both looked tired, but were grinning.

"Oh, I had no intention of missing your arrival, Mr. Weasley." McGonagall tried to sound neutral, but her eyes reflected her amusement.

"So..." Fred looked around. "Wow, it really hasn't changed, has it?"

George had a more pressing question. "Who's here already?"

"Charlie just arrived," Remus said, "and Ginny's sleeping upstairs. We're waiting for Bill and Ron."

Both men flinched. Fred shook himself as if trying to rid himself of a nightmare.

"I'm not used to hearing the catalogue," he said sheepishly. "It's been a long time."

"Where are we staying?" George asked.

"There are rooms available. I'm sure you remember where they are." Remus hated telling people where to stay in Sirius's house. He got a very unsettling feeling from it. "At the moment, it's just you Weasleys. The others won't be coming for at least two days. We're trying to...stagger the arrivals a bit."

Fred nodded. "It's pretty momentous when you think about it. I'm still rather in shock. There George and I were in our shop in New York, when all of the sudden we get the phoenix, Barnes is missing and Ginny's been accused as a kidnapper. It's a bit much to take in all at once."

"Tell me about it," Remus sighed, rubbing his leg which was beginning to throb painfully. "How is the States?"

"Ah, you know," George waved a hand, "tricks and gags are the order of the day. Yankee wizards and witches needed a good joke shop, we do very nicely."

There was a long pause and after a minute the four of them could hear the sounds of a new arrival. Fred and George exchanged a glance.

"I think we'll go and put our things away."

They Disapparated with a *crack*. A second later, barely enough time for Remus or McGonagall to orient themselves, Ron walked in, scowling. Hermione appeared to be pushing him from behind.

No one said anything until Hermione finally broke down and gave a rather surprised Remus a hug.

"Welcome back, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall said, blinking back unwelcome tears.

"Thanks," he said, his look of annoyance softening. "I don't think I need to say I don't want to be here."

"Ron," Hermione said, looking cross, "damn it, can't you just appreciate the moment?"

Ron tried, and failed. "Where's Dad?"

Remus returned to his once abandoned sandwich. "He's at the Burrow. Once you have spoken with your siblings, you can go to him, or he'll come here."

"And where is she?"

No one was foolish enough to ask who he meant.

"She's upstairs," Remus said quietly. "There's not much point in your being here, Ron, if you're not going to make an effort."

Ron opened his mouth and then closed it. Then he opened it again. "I was under the impression that I had to be here whether I liked it or not."

"In a way," McGonagall said. "We are bound by a magical oath. However, there is nothing physically keeping you here."

Ron looked sideways at Hermione who stood there resolutely with her arms folded. "That's where you're wrong."

Finishing his sandwich, Remus stood again. "Why don't you put your things away. I'll get everyone together once Bill arrives."

Hermione had taken Ron's hand to calm him, but looked at Remus as she spoke. "Did you say Ginny's here?"

"Yes, that's correct." He smiled. "Ten points to Gryffindor."

It was a poor time for levity, and Remus knew it. The words had left his mouth without him thinking about it. He wondered if perhaps Sirius hadn't left a part of himself behind in the house. It was the sort of thing he would say.

"How is that possible?" Hermione asked, furrowing her brow. "She's a criminal, she was locked up. If the Ministry is so convinced she did it, why would they set her free?"

"There was no solid evidence against her," Remus said quickly. "And she's not free, per se."

"She was released into my custody. Apparently I am the only one who can be trusted."

Both Hermione and Ron turned in the same moment to look at the man lounging in the doorway.

Severus Snape sneered at them.

~~~

Neville had taken to hitting his head against the wall. All he accomplished was a lump on the back of his head.

Guards had come and gone in the past two days, occasionally with food and water. One had given Luna a proper splint although he refused to heal her ankle magically. Apparently someone wanted her immobile.

They weren't treated all that badly, but Neville felt he was slowly losing his mind. His cellmate hadn't been much in the mood for conversation since her ankle was broken, but when she did speak it was usually to criticise him, bemoan the state of The Quibbler, or babble on about heliopaths.

So Neville had taken to hitting his head against the wall. He was building up a rhythm.

There was a rhythm to everything in the prison. The guards would come at the same exact time every day, always in step with one another, and there would be a clank of spears (for the look of the thing, Neville supposed), before the door would open and they would come inside.

Even the leak in the corner dripped in time with the other sounds.

It was bloody annoying.

Luna was not hitting her head against the wall. She was trying to make the best of a bad situation in her own odd way. She was calm and relaxed, despite the tense atmosphere. No one had spoken to them since they had arrived, except to inform them when dinner was being delivered.

It was impossible to be bored in Luna's head. She had so many thoughts at once that it was enough entertainment just to try to keep one thought at the forefront of her mind. She found the drip soothing.

But she could sense that Neville was about to lose it.

"Would you like to play twenty questions?" Luna asked from her spot on the bed. Neville was sitting on the floor with his back against a wall. He looked up hesitantly.

"What's that?"

"You've never played before?" Luna was mildly surprised. "I think of a person, place, thing, animal, vegetable, or mineral, then you have to guess what it is by asking me yes or no questions, only you only have twenty of them."

Neville sighed and shrugged. "Oh, all right."

Smiling, Luna said, "All right then. I'll go first. Go ahead, ask the question."

"Is it a person?"

"Yes."

"Is this person imaginary?"

"Neville."

"Sorry. Is this person male?"

"Yes."

There was a pause.

"Is it Harry?"

"Why yes," Luna said, beaming at him. "You're quite good at this. Your turn."

"Okay, I have one." Neville's head was aching, but he had long since ignored it. He wished he wore a watch. Although according to the drip in the corner it was nearly time for another guard visit. He thought he could hear faint footsteps down the hall.

"Is it a person?" Luna asked.

"Yes."

"Is this person male?"

"Yes."

"Is he alive?"

"As far as I know."

"Yes or no, Neville."

Sigh. "Yes."

"Do I know him?"

"Yes, everyone does."

"Is it Harry? That's not fair, he was my answer before."

"It's not Harry."

"Did he go to Hogwarts?"

Neville paused. Come to think of it, he didn't know. Or at least, he wasn't sure.

"Um, yes."

"Is he our age?"

"No."

"Is it Dumbledore?"

Choking back the feeling of rage that threatened to sweep over him anytime someone mentioned Dumbledore, Neville managed to shake his head.

"I said he was alive."

Luna didn't reply. After a moment she said, "Sounds like Mad-Eye Moody."

Fed up with the game, Neville snapped, "I was thinking of Jack Barnes."

"I know that. What I mean is, listen to the guard."

Neville listened. What he had mistaken for the guard's steps down the corridor were something else. The rhythm was off. There was a clunk with every other step.

Luna was right; it did sound like Mad-Eye Moody.

There was a thud outside the door, and Neville scrambled to his feet. Someone muttered "Alohomora," and then there was a jangling of keys before the door swung open. His fists raised, Neville was ready to beat whatever was coming through the door to a bloody pulp. He could hear Luna sigh behind him and mutter something about "idiotic Gryffindor courage."

"Longbottom? Lovegood? Let's go."

He had already thrown the punch when he realised it was Moody. He tried to pull back at the last minute, but made contact with Moody's arm and then fell to the floor. Shaking his head, Moody pulled him to his feet.

"What do you think you're doing, boy?" he asked. "Although I will give you credit for vigilance!"

Luna looked over at where Moody was holding Neville by the back of his tee-shirt.

"Do you have our wands, sir?" she asked. "My ankle's broken."

Moody walked over to her and took her ankle in his hands with surprising gentleness. He mumbled a few healing spells and tapped it with his own wand before handing hers back to her. Neville watched it all with an open mouth.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" he exploded.

"Temper, Longbottom." Moody frowned, tossing him his wand. "That is, if you'd like to get out of here."

"Temper?" Neville repeated in disbelief. "Temper? I've been thrown in a prison for no reason whatsoever, held here for two days, trapped with her," he pointed to Luna who sighed, "and I've gone completely mad. Then all of the sudden you appear, the door is open, we're supposed to escape, and you're telling me to watch my temper?"

"It would be a good idea," Moody answered, unperturbed. "Shall we get going? Constant vigilance! We have a lot to accomplish and very little time to do so."

Luna stood up and tested her newly-healed ankle. It appeared to be as good as new.

"Okay," she said, moving towards the door, "what happened?"

Something akin to a grin twitched across Moody's face. "You're rather sharp, Lovegood. What makes you think something has happened?"

"Why would you bother to find us?" she asked sensibly. Neville still looked quite ill and she hauled him to his feet. "It's about damned time, I say. Would you like to fill us in?"

Ushering out the door, Moody said in his low growl, "All in good time. I'll tell you as we go, so let's go."

Pushing Neville in front of her, Luna left the prison cell, almost sad to leave it behind. Another day or so and she felt she could have got Neville to really open up to her. Oh well. It probably was not meant to be.

Moody had his wand out in front of him defensively, and his false eye was spinning wildly in its socket. He indicated that they should take a passage neither had noticed before, and once they were stuffed into a practically airless dark chamber, he took a chipped mug with a teddy bear on it from his cloak.

"I've got a Portkey here that will take us to Diagon Alley. I have some shopping to do."

"But what's happening?" Neville asked desperately.

"That idiot Barnes has been kidnapped and Ginny Weasley was blamed for it."

"What?!"

There was no break in his awkward stride. Moody's eye rolled a bit and he indicated that they should move forward.

"Here, touch the mug." Luna obeyed instantly, but Neville was a little more hesitant. He wanted answers! He was tired of being kept in the dark. But after a prod in the stomach from Luna's wand, he too touched the mug. Moody was counting under his breath.

"Three...two...ah...one."

And Neville felt himself pulled towards the mug. He lifted off the ground, bumped into what he prayed wasn't a "delicate" part of Luna, and started to get sick.

They fell out of the sky onto Diagon Alley. At least Neville did; Luna and Moody managed to remain standing.

"Let's sit down and talk, shall we?" Luna suggested. She headed towards Florean Fortesque's Ice Cream Parlour. With a meaningful look at Neville (or what he assumed was supposed to be a meaningful look), Moody hobbled after her and Neville had no choice but to follow.

Watching Mad-Eye Moody eat butterscotch ripple ice cream was one of the most fascinating things Neville had ever witnessed. Watching Luna eat her rhubarb pie ice cream came a close second. His cheeks burned as people dropped their spoons in astonishment at the scene presented before them.

"Now then," Luna said, licking her lips. "Let's start at the beginning. Barnes is missing?"

"That's right," Moody growled. "He was kidnapped. It's possible he's dead, but it's unlikely. If someone wanted him dead, then they'd want everyone to know he was dead. No, there's definitely reasons to keep him alive."

"Why was Ginny accused?" Neville asked, mesmerised as Moody took another bite.

"The Ministry claims that there was evidence." Moody snorted. "Haven't said what that evidence was. Someone's setting her up."

Luna acted as if the fact that her former school chum was a wanted criminal was no more interesting than porridge.

"Why did you come for us?" she asked Moody. "How did you know where we were?"

"For that matter," Neville chimed in, "where were we?"

"Any Auror worth his salt," Moody stated, "especially the more experienced ones, know about Killarney Keep. Didn't realise Barnes had taken it over, but I went to your bookshop, Lovegood, and saw what had happened. Only Militia do that sort of damage for no reason. After that it was a matter of travel."

"Killarney Keep?" Luna gasped. "We were in Killarney? Wow."

"What's Killarney Keep?" Neville had to ask.

"It was the prison before Azkaban was built," Luna said in a hushed tone. "Filled with haunted spectres of those who were imprisoned there. It's said that it was guarded by something worse than Dementors."

"What could be worse than Dementors?"

Moody frowned at him. "You think Dementors are the worst things in the world, boy? Because they feed on happiness?"

"Well, yes," Neville stammered. "They leave you feeling as though death would be a pleasant alternative."

Seeming to consider this answer, Moody replied, "I can see you've had some contact with them before. But, no, Dementors aren't the worst. Before there were Dementors, there were Olkaon, meaning literally 'evil ones.' They were worse than you could possibly imagine."

"I don't know," Neville mused, "I can imagine some pretty terrible things. What makes these so bad?"

"They were insane," Luna said, staring off into space. "The Dementor's Kiss is in actuality a survival technique. They suck souls because they are hungry. The Olkaon would do to you what was done to them. For fun. They turned you into one of their own by torturing you into madness."

A horrified silence fell over the table. The people around them were still chattering and laughing and the sun streamed down onto the patio where the three were discussing death and insanity. Moody cleared his throat.

"They're extinct now, of course," he said, as if talking about a species of avian. "Killarney's been deserted for many years, once Azkaban was built and the Dementors were brought in. The Council in those days felt the Olkaon were too dangerous. Killable, were the Olkaon. Easier to kill than Dementors, although still not easy. But the Patronus charm doesn't work on them. They were around long before that charm. One of the oldest evils in the world."

"I can't believe we were in the Keep," Luna murmured. "That's fantastic."

Shuddering, Neville wanted to say that it hadn't been so fantastic while they were there, but instead he turned back to Moody who was eating his ice cream again.

"So what made you come after us?"

Moody paused mid-bite. "Weasley's reforming the Order. We're all being called back into action."

If Neville thought he was impervious to surprise by then, he was sadly mistaken. If he had been standing he would have fallen. As it were he turned white and sank down into the chair.

"Bloody hell," he muttered.

"Language," Moody said, licking his spoon.

"I figured as much," Luna said suddenly. "That must have been what the phoenix was about."

This time both Neville and Moody stared at her. They spoke at once.

"What phoenix?"

"You saw it?"

Luna was unperturbed. "The phoenix symbol of the Order, of course. The one we're sworn to use only in times of great need. I saw it, yes."

Moody was still staring at her, and she said defensively, "Well, what was I supposed to do about it? I was in prison, remember?"

"Why do I get the feeling, Lovegood, that none of this has surprised you in the least?"

"Because I expected it, of course," Luna replied, finishing off the rest of her dessert. "I've been waiting for seven years for the Militia to arrest me and the Order to meet again. I really thought this would have happened much sooner."

"Why do you say that?" Moody asked, glaring at her intensely. Neville felt like they were having a conversation in another language and no one had bothered to give him a translation.

"Because the world needs us, of course. Now that we have this all settled, I presume we're meeting at the old headquarters. But you mentioned needing to go shopping, so we'll do that first." She pushed her chair back from the table and stood up. "Lead on."

"Miss Lovegood," Moody said with grudging admiration, "you would make one hell of an Auror."

Luna smiled. "I practically am one. All I lack is the diploma. Come on, Neville."

And Neville, in a daze, got out of his chair, running to catch up with the two most unlikely shopping companions he had ever had.

~~~

Her beautiful eyes filled with tears and she allowed herself to feel a small amount of satisfaction; he was weakening.

"Fleur, sweetheart," Bill pleaded, "you don't understand. I have to go."

"I do not see why," Fleur said, the tears dripping down her cheeks. "I will not let you!"

"I have to go. I'm bound by a magical oath."

Fleur pushed herself away from him. When she turned back towards him, he could see the fury in her eyes.

"No," she declared. "Too many nights I waited for you, wondering if you were 'urt or ill. You would tell me you were meeting friends for dinner, or working late. Now you tell me zat was a lie. I will not lose you, Bill Weasley!"

He took her in his arms and this time she didn't resist. Instead she crumpled and began to sob.

"I won't do anything dangerous," Bill swore. "I'm only going to the meeting. I don't have a choice, I wish I did. I wish I could stay here with you."

"Zen why don't you?"

"Because I can't. You know I can't."

"Bill, if you get 'urt, or if I should lose you...I cannot do zat again. You must promise you will stay safe. Or let me come with you!"

Bill shook his head. "I would love to have you with me, love, but this is something I have to face on my own."

"And if I go anyway?"

He smiled and kissed the top of her head. "We both know you won't. Tell you what, let me settle what needs to be settled, and then you can join me."

Fleur hated it when he patronised her like that. She wasn't a child.

"After more zan seven years together," Fleur said haughtily, "you still 'ave much to learn about women."

Bill's eyes sparkled. "Teach me."

'Oh, I will,' Fleur thought as she kissed him. 'I'll teach you something you will never forget!'

~~~

"What are you doing here?" Ron growled, starting towards Snape. Hermione quickly grabbed his hand and pulled him back.

"I am a member of the Order, Weasley, or had your tiny brain forgotten?" Snape stood up and took several steps toward Ron. "And apparently the only one who could get your sister out of the Militia compound."

The look on Ron's face was not very pleasant as he replied. "You? But you're the biggest traitor of us all! You were a Death Eater. Why the hell would they let you take her?"

"Because I was never implicated in the business seven years ago," Snape replied smoothly. "I am very good at what I do, Weasley. Not to mention several Militia are former students."

"Why am I not surprised?" Ron grumbled.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be in the library. I am apparently not allowed to leave without my 'charge.'" Snape gave the word 'charge' the nastiest twist possible. "So if you'd hurry this idiotic meeting along, I'd like to go home."

Hermione made a face. "You can't expect Ginny to stay with you!"

"Let me rephrase that, Miss Granger," Snape said, smirking and looking down at her hand. Hermione turned slightly pink, but said nothing. "I would like to return to Hogwarts where Weasley will be under not only my watchful eye, but Minerva's and the rest of the faculty's as well."

Charlie entered the kitchen at that moment, showing no surprise at Snape's presence. He glanced quickly at Ron and Hermione and then turned away, addressing Remus and McGonagall.

"Bill's here, and Ginny's awake." He looked as if just saying those names caused him pain. "It's time."

Stiffly, Ron walked up the stairs, still gripping Hermione's hand tightly. They arrived on the landing where Fred, George, and Bill were waiting. Charlie brought up the rear. No one said anything for a moment, they all just shuffled around and stared at the floor.

Finally George said, "Hermione, this is a Weasley meeting. Why don't you wait for Ron downstairs."

It was a testament to the intensity of the situation that he didn't refer to Ron as 'Ronniekins.' Nor was it a question.

Hermione made as if to leave, but Ron, rather red, didn't let go of her hand. "Hermione's a Weasley now. She has just as much right to be here as you do."

The jaws of the other Weasleys dropped at once.

"You're married?"

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"How could you have married without anyone knowing?"

"How long has this been...going on?"

The flush had crept to the roots of his hair, but Ron didn't back away. "We never planned it this way. But after the...you know...we were the only two still speaking. We were still friends, so we lived as friends for awhile, roommates. And we travelled wherever our jobs took us. One day things changed, or maybe they had been changing for a long time, I don't know, but we became more than friends. And we got married. What was I supposed to do, send out wedding invitations?"

"We all knew when Charlie was married!"

"Well, what about his daughter? None of you knew before now did you?"

"Don't bring Katelyn into this, I told Dad about her."

"Ron, how could you not have said something?"

"What should I have done? Owl you? You wouldn't have replied."

"I would have."

Everyone turned. Ginny was standing in the doorway, staring at them all. She knew what they were all thinking. She's changed. She's not a little girl anymore. There were no delusions on her part. She knew what she looked like; she had spent an hour staring into the mirror, trying to remember what it felt like to smile.

Her hair was dull and flat, but still the Weasley Red. Her eyes were sunken, lifeless, and had dark smudges beneath them. The other Weasleys all flinched from the sight of her, but Hermione moved toward her and gave her a hug.

Surprised at first, Ginny tensed. But then she remembered that this woman had been her friend, and she began to cry.

Only allowing one or two tears to escape, Ginny pulled back and smiled faintly. "Thank you," she whispered to Hermione. "And thank you for being here."

Straightening up and meeting her brother's eyes for the first time, Ginny said, quietly but firmly, "Come in. I'll tell you everything."

And in a single file they followed her into the room. Ginny took a seat in a worn red velvet armchair, and placed her hands gently on her lap. Ron, with Hermione at his side, stood on the other side of the room, leaning against the wall, his arms folded. Fred and George sat in identical straight-backed chairs, and looked at the floor. Charlie stood, arms at his side, and watched Ron curiously. Bill, alone of her brothers, watched her from his seat on the bed.

"It has been seven years," Ginny began slowly, her voice shaking. "And I know you all hate me. But I hate me too. I've suffered, and I've deserved every minute of it."

She could see she had surprised Ron with this admission, for while his scowl didn't change, he stood up just a bit straighter.

"I am responsible for the deaths of Mum and Professor Dumbledore," she continued. "I could claim it was due to a spell, and I would be right, but I must also claim responsibility. I was stupid and naïve. I've learned a lot of hard lessons since then, but it doesn't change what I did.

"Here is the reason for what you consider my betrayal: I thought it was possible to redeem Draco Malfoy.

"Why? I don't know. I barely remember my reasons anymore. I just remember watching him, thinking how much he must have suffered at the hands of his vile father. So I went to him. And I thought I was helping him. He actually convinced me that he was changing.

"But he used me. It still hurts to think about it, but I don't know why. In a way I think I always expected it. But there was that part of me that wanted to see him better himself."

Ginny dropped her head. This was the part she was dreading. Her brothers knew what she had done, or at least part of it, but not why she did it. She had to explain, they had to know the truth and understand. Otherwise she couldn't depend on them.

"There was...an attraction," she said hesitantly, aware of the shock and disgust that crossed her brothers' features. Only Bill and Hermione remained impassive. "I knew what he was, and yet I...I couldn't stop it. I was an idiot because I clearly remembered everything he did to me, to us. But he was a very good actor. He pretended he cared for me as well.

"It was a trap, of course. I was the weakest link among us, I should never have been inducted into the Order. When Malfoy offered to give me special information about Voldemort and his organisation, I jumped at the chance.

"You all know me, or knew me. I wasn't a stupid soppy little girl. I was capable of defending myself, and I would have, had I thought there was anything to worry about. But what I didn't realise was just how deeply Tom Riddle's diary had affected me."

That wasn't what they had expected, she knew. What did the diary incident have to do with Draco Malfoy? They had all forgotten it had ever occurred. Ginny envied them that; she never would.

"It gave Voldemort a special hold over me. When Malfoy took me to Malfoy Manor to give me his 'special information,' Voldemort was there. And he saw me as a tool, an opportunity."

She had promised herself she wouldn't cry, but the memory of those desperate moments, knowing that she was betraying them all and yet unable to stop it, was like a knife in her belly.

"I told them everything. It was more than Imperius, which I had long since learned to throw off. It was deeper than that, like every piece of my soul belonged to him. Everything I knew about the Order, about battle plans, about...about Harry, I told him. There wasn't a secret left in my head that he didn't know by the end.

"Malfoy came to see me afterwards. Told me he was sorry, that he was going to free me. More lies. And yet I wanted to believe him, because I had nothing else to believe. I knew that you would all hate me after what I had done, and most of all I hated myself. So as punishment I let Malfoy play his little game."

Ron interrupted, croaking, "You didn't let him--"

Ginny shook her head. "No. I would have, I think, at that time, hating myself as I did. But he wasn't interested. He had other plans, he said. Malfoy enjoyed mind games too much, he thought it was the best sort of torture. And I put up no fight."

Shuddering, she made herself continue. "Voldemort wanted me at the final battle. He took me along like a little puppet to put out on parade for you. He wanted the Order to see me on his side. To know what I had done. He knew, being a master of mind games himself, that my betrayal would cause the fracture of the Order--already under stress from petty arguments and feuds that had been building for months. And he was right."

She sighed. "You know the rest. Barnes and his Militia came to the rescue and it was finished."

Falling into silence, Ginny waited for their response. She didn't know what she expected, she only hoped it wasn't going to be anger.

"You went through all of that?" George said finally, meeting her eyes for the first time. Ginny nodded.

"Gin, I don't know what to say," Fred said, running his fingers through his hair, looking shocked.

"You believe me?" Ginny's heart swelled with hope, especially when he called her 'Gin.'

"I do," Charlie said. "I'm sorry for everything, Ginny."

"Well I'm not sure I am," Ron stated. Everyone, including Hermione, looked at him, horrified.

He returned their stares with a glare of his own. "It's her own fault. She knows that." His expression softened slightly. "I'm not sorry. But I do forgive you. I missed you, Gin."

Hermione opened her mouth to snap at him, but Ginny interrupted her.

"No, Hermione, he's right. None of you have anything to apologise to me for. I am sorry for everything. So much more than you could imagine. I've been learning to deal with it for seven years. But," she said, when it looked as if Hermione was going to speak, "I do think you owe one another apologies. Whatever I did, it wasn't enough to break up the Order."

They all looked at each other as if seeing one another for the first time. There was no tearful rush to hug, no proclamations of undying support, not even a pat on the back. What there was was something better: a beginning of understanding.

"Okay," Bill said; as the eldest he felt the need to take charge. "Now would you like to tell us what the hell is going on?"

~~~

Emily Hopkirk twirled the quill around her fingers as she gazed out the open window. There was a Quidditch game going on that she wished she could participate in. She'd rather be anywhere than stuck at a desk in the Ministry of Magic.

Everyone told her what an honour it was to have attained such a high position so soon after leaving Hogwarts. She ought to be grateful, they all said. Junior Assistant to the Minister of Magic! It was a dream come true.

Except that it wasn't.

She hadn't even wanted to go into the Ministry. She wanted to raise magical creatures, but her mother called her a fool and said that no daughter of hers was going to waste her life in some smelly animal shop. So Emily had been hustled into a lowly position in the Goblin Liaison Office, and seven short months later had been elevated to her current job.

It was just because she was pretty. The Minister liked how she looked, that's why he had chosen her. Ludmilla Wimple deserved the spot much more than she had, and she knew it.

The job was painfully dull. She ran around getting the Minister's paper work and coffee, making copies and soothing ruffled diplomats. She was hardly ever allowed to leave the office.

The past couple days had looked as if they might be interesting, Emily conceded. With the Militia Leader's disappearance, she expected to be sent out looking, at the very least. But no one said, "Miss Hopkirk, I need you to go to St. Mungo's and see if anyone fitting Jack Barnes' description was admitted." No one said anything to her at all.

Reporters were having a field day with the story. Emily couldn't open a paper without seeing something about the disappearance. Then when Ginny Weasley, a girl she vaguely remembered as having been a sixth year when she was in first, was arrested, her picture was plastered across the front of every news page.

Emily wanted to go outside and do some investigating. She knew she was capable of more than saying, "Yes, Minister, that tie matches your socks." It was just that everyone assumed that because she was well-developed and had a pretty face, she was lacking in intelligence. Even her own mother thought Emily was as thick as two short planks.

Tapping the quill against her desk, Emily forced her stare away from the window and onto the report on dragon heartstring imports. Grabbing the coffee on her desk gratefully, she neglected to notice who had placed it there.

"Morning, Hoppy," said Graham Pritchard with a grin. "Read anything interesting this morning?"

Having an immense dislike for the Slytherin who was three years her senior, Emily sniffed and attempted to look down at him despite her sitting position.

"Can't say that I have, Pritchard. Go bother one of the new girls, would you?"

Graham conjured up a chair and sat on it. "Now, now, sweetheart, you wouldn't want me to share the love with another woman, would you?"

"Personally, I'd rather you just dropped dead."

It wasn't just the unwanted attention. With blonde hair, blue eyes, and a well-developed figure, she was used to untoward advances. What she didn't like was the look in his eyes when he spoke to her. There was something dangerous about Graham Pritchard.

"Such a firecracker," he laughed at her. "How about dinner?"

"No," Emily replied flatly. "I have a lot of work to do. I won't finish until late. And the Minister won't like that you're disturbing me."

"Weasley is a sod," Graham replied. "He can't see what's under his nose."

"You oughtn't to speak about Minister Weasley like that," Emily commented, though she secretly harboured the same opinion. "And you had better leave before he comes in."

"What, you don't want him to see us together? Are you shagging him or something?"

"No!" Emily exclaimed, horrified. "He's married!"

Graham shrugged. "I only wondered. There's been talk..."

A flush crept up her neck. "People think that I...and the Minister...oh, Merlin."

"Why else would he give you this job if he weren't looking for a little action?" Graham grinned wolfishly.

"Perhaps because I'm qualified for it," Emily retorted hotly. She was burning with embarrassment. Surely not everyone thought that she was having an affair with Percy Weasley. "Oh, get out of here, Pritchard."

The arrival of an owl interrupted his response. It was large for an owl and an inky midnight black. Its hoot sounded like more of a growl, and it snapped at her as she tried to remove the letter.

"Love note?" Graham asked, reading over her shoulder.

Minister Percy Weasley

was scribbled hastily across the front. Emily sighed and opened it. All owls that came to the Minister's office were read by her first, scanned for important content, and passed on to her superior who either dealt with it, tossed it, or passed it along.

To the Minister of Magic:

We have Militia Leader Jack Barnes. If you want him back alive, you will deliver one million galleons to a designated place to be stipulated in a subsequent owl. Time will also be determined.

Do not do anything stupid or Barnes will be dead. Await the next owl with further instructions.

And to prove that he is at this time vital, we enclose a note of his own. You are more than welcome to compare the handwriting.

There was no signature.

"Someone's been using their thesaurus," Graham commented, looking at the letter.

She didn't hear him. Slowly and in shock, Emily removed the second note from the envelope.

Percy,

It is all right, my injuries are negligible. Obviously I can give you no clue as to whom my captors are. I can only reassure you that I am indeed alive. My seal is at the bottom. Furthermore, I will tell you something that only I could know. Saint, I am not. Remember that time that we went looking for centaurs in the Forbidden Forest? I was certain we'd end up in the Hospital Wing, possibly dead. Alex Bonham thought we were crazy, but we showed him, no? Still, I didn't have faith in you, my friend, so I am sorry.

Don't give them the money, old chap. I'll be just fine.

Like a phoenix to the flame,

Jack

There was something odd about that note, something Emily couldn't put her finger on. Graham tapped her on the shoulder.

"Are you still here?" he asked, waving a hand in front of her eyes.

"What?" Emily started out of her daydream. "Oh, yes, I suppose I had better run this to the Minister, hadn't I."

She bolted out of her seat and ran down the corridor, leaving Graham Pritchard staring at her from behind.

The Minister's door was open slightly, and Bridget, his part-time receptionist, was conspicuously absent. She was about to push the door open and go in, when she realised he was speaking to someone. Turning to leave, curiosity got the better of her, and she turned back to listen.

"For the last time, no!" Percy snarled. "I won't be manipulated like this. Just find Jack."

Someone, Emily assumed he was speaking via fireplace, said something she couldn't quite make out.

"Am I the only sane one left among you?" Percy shouted. "Damn it, I don't care what it takes. I want him back here! This has gone much too far, I didn't agree to this. You aren't doing your job."

Again there was a pause as the mysterious other person replied.

"There are no excuses. Find him."

Emily backed slowly away from the door. She hadn't just heard what she thought she had. There was no way Percy could be involved. He was just concerned, yes, that was it. He was concerned for the safety of his friend.

Suddenly she came in contact with someone. Squeaking, she recognised the head of the Militia under Barnes, though she didn't know her name.

"What are you doing?" the woman snapped.

"I...I have a message for the Minister," Emily stammered. It was unusual to encounter Militia in the Ministry. They preferred to remain in their private offices, much like the Aurors used to.

"Give it to me," demanded the woman. "I'll see that he gets it."

But Emily held the letter protectively to her chest. "It's urgent, I'm his assistant. I'll just go in and see him."

The woman blocked her way. "We're taking matters into our own hands now, Miss Hopkirk. We don't want anything happening to the Minister now, do we?"

Emily didn't bother to ask how the woman knew her name. She was Militia, she had her ways.

"I'm his assistant," Emily repeated. "I'm not going to hurt him! I have urgent news about Jack Barnes!"

She regretted it the moment the words left her mouth. The woman's expression changed, and her eyes narrowed.

"Give it to me." Grabbing the letter from Emily's tight grip, she scanned it and turned to walk away without another word.

Angrily, Emily muttered, "Effingo." A copy of the letter was made and appeared in her hand, which she quickly pocketed. The Militia leader's footsteps echoed as she disappeared down the corridor, and Emily quickly turned and ran the other way.

Once she was safely at her desk, she took out the parchment and looked at it again. It still didn't make sense. She knew very little about the Minister's background, but he certainly didn't strike her as the type to go chasing after centaurs in the Forbidden Forest.

She picked up her quill and twirled it idly, lost in thought. What should she do? The Militia would be desperate to find Jack, they'd figure it out. The Minister would be informed, of course, because that was how things were done, and she needn't do anything.

A flame of rebellion was lit in Emily Hopkirk. She wanted to do something.

Taking out her own piece of parchment, she wrote at the top:

Dear Professor Snape--

After all, loyalty, though usually considered a Hufflepuff trait, was the first thing one was taught as a Slytherin. Perhaps he'd know what to do.

~~~

The woman who Emily had encountered scanned the parchment she had taken from the girl. A grim smile crossed her face. Marching off to find one of her fellow Militia members, she entered the Militia Compound.

"I think," she announced to the collection of Militia before her, "that our luck is about to change."

The room filled with whispers. She grabbed the arm of a man who passed and said, "Make a copy and deliver it to the Minister's office. We'll want him to see this."

Everyone returned to their duties. The woman simply stared out her window. Oh, yes, things were definitely going to change.