The Queen of Heaven

"...And so, as we look toward another year, I trust you will all remember the brave sacrifices of those who gave everything to free us all from the oppression of the Dark Lord..."

Ginny toyed absently with her fork as she tuned out Headmistress McGonagall's words. The opening speech this year had done little to ease her sadness. Despite the many references to the heroism and bravery of those who had died, remembering in such detail the events of the previous year left a searing pain somewhere in the region of her heart. Her eyes drifted up to the staff table to study the faces, some familiar, but many new, poor replacements for those who had been lost. Prominent among those missing were the hulking figure of Hagrid and the benign, watchful eyes of Professor Dumbledore. Goddess, she missed them all, and she felt the loss of Dumbledore especially. She was not alone in the sentiment. Fawkes had mourned for months, unable, or, considering his substantial intelligence, unwilling to believe that Dumbledore was truly gone.

Ginny's mouth curved into a tiny smile as she thought of Fawkes, whom Dumbledore had bequeathed to her shortly before his death, leaving instructions that she was to care for Fawkes until his return. He had also mentioned that, in the event of his death, Fawkes would find the most suitable person to care for him indefinitely. As of yet, however, the phoenix had not left, and Ginny dearly hoped he would stay.

The thought of Fawkes drew her eyes to Harry, who had been most disconcerted to discover that she owned 'his' phoenix; since learning that Fawkes had donated the feather in his wand, Harry had become a bit possessive of the bird: a fact that was clearly evident despite his reluctance to voice his thoughts. Ginny's amused smirk quickly turned to a frown as she recalled the other notions that filled his head. Harry could not accept the image of himself as a hero. Sure, he said the right things and smiled in the right places, but Ginny knew her friends well, and when Harry thought no one was looking, his eyes went hollow. She knew that he blamed himself for every death, every ounce of suffering endured by anyone. It wasn't only the people he was close to, either, although admittedly they caused him the most grief. No, he mourned every person, Muggle and wizard alike, who had suffered at the hands of Voldemort. Ginny sighed explosively. She hated not being able to do anything for him, hated not being the one he turned to when he was hurting.

Ginny's narrowed eyes shifted to Blaise Zabini, who was flirting with none other than Draco Malfoy at the Slytherin table. Blaise, as Harry's girlfriend, was the person to whom he went, and a fat lot of good it did him. The little vixen didn't give a shit about anything but herself. Ginny's brow creased. No, that wasn't what she really thought. Blaise was a sweet girl, really; she just had no concept of others' emotions. In Blaise's mind, the world existed to please her. If, by doing so, her 'minions' made themselves happy, all the better, but she wouldn't lose sleep over it if they were miserable. She pretended not to notice the pain in Harry's eyes when she flirted with Draco--the two had fought over her the previous summer before she had finally chosen Harry--and perhaps she truly didn't see it, but Ginny had a sneaking suspicion that the Slytherin girl simply didn't care.

Ginny grumbled irritably. She knew she was overreacting, and it was none of her business anyway. Her protective qualities had put Ginny in more painful situations than she was willing to admit, but there was nothing she could do to change her nature. She cared too much about Harry to see some Slytherin tramp grind his heart to a pulp. Ginny tsked to herself. She shouldn't be thinking so poorly of Blaise...but if the stupid girl would just stop flirting with Draco!

Not that there was anything wrong with Draco, of course. He was--Ginny's lips curved appreciatively--exceptionally attractive...Ginny sighed. No matter how many excuses she made, she just couldn't deny that there was something a bit off about Draco Malfoy. She mentally slapped herself. She had no right to think about him like that. Draco had been one of the key elements in the Dark Lord's defeat, and for that, she and the rest of the wizarding world owed him their lives.

It had been a bad time. Voldemort had run rampant, killing and destroying where he would, and still Harry hadn't been strong enough to defeat him. Some people had begun to wonder if he ever would be. Needless to say, Harry had not been very pleasant company in those months. Surprisingly, Hermione was the first to snap, and in a spectacular display of temper one fine March evening she finally exploded. It had been quite a night; it started with Hermione's threats to jinx Harry's head off and ended when she offered to help Harry find a way to defeat Voldemort. She had, moreover, managed offer everyone else's help as well...It really was amazing how Hermione's mind worked.

So the most rigorous research of Ginny's life had begun. None of Harry's friends really knew why they bothered, as it was obvious that Hermione was determined to find the answer herself, but then, sometimes Ginny liked to feel useful. Consequently, Ginny had spent every minute of her free time in the library, and it had paid off. To everyone's astonishment, Ginny, not Hermione, had found the principle that eventually defeated Voldemort: Mortus Dei--the Death of God. Hermione had been horrified that her research skills did not surpass those of the youngest Weasley.

A sudden expectant hush brought Ginny abruptly back to reality; the Sorting was about to begin. She blinked, wondering how long she had been reminiscing. Shrugging, Ginny glanced up and, to her surprise, met Harry's steady gaze. His eyes radiated concern; apparently he had noticed her preoccupation. Ginny flashed him a quick smile and looked away, her forehead wrinkled in bemusement. Why was Harry so worried about her? She frowned. He had hardly ever even really looked at her, and now suddenly, he seemed to care a bit...excessively.

Grumbling, Ginny fought the urge to roll her eyes at herself. "You think too much, Virginia Weasley," she muttered under her breath.

She was spared further thought by the Sorting Hat, which had just opened its brim wide and was about to sing. The Great Hall seemed to hold its breath, for the Hat's songs were legendary. To everyone's great surprise, the sound that spewed from the Sorting Hat's open brim was far from musical. Harry gasped, apparently finding the sound familiar, but Ginny had never heard anything like it before. The Hat began to speak in a terrible, harsh rumble.

"All who stand witness, heed my words, for in the time to come, they will be needed. The memory of Death proves the key to its undoing, but also the manner of its return. Look to the child. The girl alone can win the final battle, but if she falls to darkness, the world will accompany her. And yet she will fall, she must, for from her ashes shall a goddess be born. The Queen of Heaven, the power to save or destroy all is her game. If the Queen cannot love humanity, the world will perish. The swan must be hers, or all is lost. Look to the child...the Goddess."

Dead silence greeted the end of the Hat's speech. Ginny's wide eyes found the figure of McGonagall, shock evident in the professor's lined face for an instant before all traces of emotion vanished. McGonagall pursed her lips.

"Very well. I suppose if the Hat is incapa--"

The Sorting Hat cut her off with a loud groan. "Oh my aching stitches. Well? What's the holdup? Come on then, give me my first mind..." it trailed off when McGonagall made no move. "What is it?" the Hat asked in a slightly less boisterous tone.

Professor McGonagall stared at the hat for a moment. "You remember nothing? Not a word of what you said?" she barked.

Ginny had the oddest feeling that the hat would have blinked had it been able to. "Er...no. That is, I remember being placed on the stool, and suddenly I had the oddest sensation in my seams. What should I be remembering?"

McGonagall narrowed her eyes, apparently deep in thought. After a moment, she straightened, purpose written on her wrinkled features. "You made a most...disturbing prophecy." A collective gasp followed her words, and students began muttering amongst themselves.

"A prophecy, did she say...?"

"But how could a hat... I mean it's not like it's alive."

The Headmistress raised a hand, and the noise level dropped abruptly. The students stared at her expectantly, waiting for some insight into the meaning of the prophecy. They were sorely disappointed, however, when McGonagall simply sighed. "At the moment, it is nearly impossible to decipher the meaning of this...prophecy." Her clipped tone continued, despite the multitude of groans that accompanied her statement. "There are far too many possibilities, too many provisions that must be met. Although the Prophecy itself must remain a mystery for now, its intent is clear. We have every reason to believe that the coming months will prove extremely difficult, and I believe we shall have great need of the strength that unity will bring. I trust that Hogwarts as a school will stand united in defense of humanity."

Stunned silence greeted the Headmistress's speech. McGonagall scowled impatiently and glanced at the parchment in her hand.

"Now," she declared, "let us begin the sorting. Arellain, Courtney!"

The Sorting Ceremony took a remarkably short time, and there was, at best, halfhearted applause as each first year joined his or her house. Ginny didn't even bother to notice the new Gryffindors. Her brain was working furiously, going over and over the Sorting Hat's Prophecy. From her ashes, a goddess shall be born...Ginny sighed. It all sounded so familiar. If only she could catch the memory that was niggling at her. Blast. It was gone.

Ginny absently speared a piece of broccoli on her fork, attempting several times to put it in her mouth before she finally realized what she was doing. She stared at the poor impaled broccoli for a moment and carefully put the fork down. Ginny blinked. Finally, she summoned the energy to get up. She hadn't realized until that moment how utterly exhausted she was.

She made her way slowly up to Gryffindor Tower, so bleary that she forgot to jump the trick step and almost got stuck halfway up the staircase. She huffed at herself and trudged on. She finally arrived in front of the Fat Lady, who smiled benignly down on Ginny and hummed, "password?"

"Oh bugger," Ginny muttered. She had forgotten to get the password from the prefects downstairs. However, to her great astonishment, the Fat Lady smiled graciously and swung open.

Ginny blinked. Cocked her head and blinked once more. "You mean the password is really bugger?"

The Fat Lady looked mildly offended, but replied amiably enough. "Of course it is, dear. I would not have ned otherwise."

"Right," said a very bemused Ginny. She stepped through the portrait hole and headed for the dormitory. She collapsed gratefully in her bed and resolved to fall asleep before any other highly bewildering incidents occurred. Within seconds, she had fallen into a mercifully deep sleep.

A deep sleep, yes, but not a dreamless one.

* * *

Ginny dashed furiously down the dark stone passage, desperately trying to escape the horror that pursued her, whatever it might be. Fiery pain erupted from a stitch in her side, and she gasped for breath, but still she ran, terrified.

Ginny knew that she couldn't run much longer, and her eyes darted frantically, looking for somewhere to rest, to hide. As if responding to her thought, a door appeared in the wall ahead of her. Without stopping to ponder the peculiarity of its sudden appearance, Ginny flung herseugh the door and slammed it shut. Leaning against the door, she thankfully gasped the cool air before she sank to the floor, utterly exhausted. The world went black.

* * *

When the dream returned, the first thing Ginny noticed was that she was no longer lying on the cold stone floor. She sat up abruptly, twisting to take in her surroundings. Ginny found herself lying on a rug, the only ornament in a cold stone chamber. And in the corner...Ginny gaped.

Tom Riddle stepped lazily away from the wall on which he had been leaning.

Ginny screamed, earning a sneer from Tom.

"Virginia, my dear," he said amiably, "whatever is the matter? Surely you are happy to see me."

"No..." Ginny whispered, "no, you can't be here. You're dead!"

"Death cannot stop true love." Tom chuckled at the look of revulsion on Ginny's face. "Come, come, dearest. You've always known that we were meant to be together."

Ginny backed slowly away as Tom advanced on her. She knew it was hopeless; there was nowhere for her to go. She squeezed her eyes shut as Tom's cold fingers traced chilling patterns on her skin.

"I love you, Virginia," Tom murmured in her ear, his voice sickly sweet. "You know I do. And I'm the only one who ever will. You aren't really going to let my love go unreturned, are you, Virginia?"

No... I don't love him...

"No, Tom." In spite of her brain's vehement protests, the words sprung from Ginny's lips.

"Good girl, Virginia...that's a good girl. What are you, Virginia?"

"A--a good girl."

No! I don't want to... I'm not...

"Do you love me, Virginia?"

No!

"Yes, Tom."

Tom seemed not to hear her response. "I asked you a question, Virginia."

No... please... I...

"Yes, Tom, I do."

"Answer my question, Virginia," Tom's voice grew harsh, and his fingers uted vicious claws before Ginny's horrified eyes.

Oh, Goddess... No! He wouldn't...

"I do, Tom, I love you."

"Tell me, Virginia, the truth, do you love me?"

No! Harry... I love Harry!

"I love you, Tom."

* * *

"Tom!" Ginny whispered and sat bolt upright in her bed, eyes wide with fear. Still breathing heavily, she lurched out of her sweat-soaked sheets and staggered to the window. After a small struggle with the latch, she threw the window open, gasping in the cold autumn air.

"Merlin's bed slippers...&rdqumuttered, "what in bloody buggering hell just happened?"

A rustling of bedclothes reminded Ginny that she shared the dormitory with four other girls, a realization that was shortly bolstered by the drowsy lilt of another girl's voice.

"Gin?" mumbled Fiona, one of Ginny's fellow sixth years. "You ok?"

Ginny's muscles, which had tensed at the sudden noise, slowly relaxed. "I've been better," she replied.

Jamming her feet into her fuzzy slippers, Fiona shuffled towards Ginny, a look of concern on her petite features. "What's wrong, Ginny? Why are you awake this late?"

"I'm fine," Ginny lied. She didn't really feel like discussing Tom at the moment.

Fiona reached out to touch Ginny, and her hand came away dripping with cold sweat. She frowned at Ginny. "Fine my arse," she muttered, "look at you! You're about to have a nervous breakdown, and as your friend, it's my privilege to help you. So tell me."

Ginny giggled, trying to lighten the mood. "Well," she quipped, "with you here I don't have to worry about anything else. I'll be too busy trying not to have my head eaten."

Fiona was having none of it. "I'm not joking, Ginny. I can tell when you're trying to hide something."

Ginny sighed. "Look, Fiona, I can't tell you. I promised Dumbledore..." Ginny's chest hitched at Dumbledore's name, and she fought for a moment not to cry. Finally, she continued in a quieter voice. "I promised Dumbledore that I would talk to him about this first. Although I suppose since he's...not here anymore...I suppose I should talk to Remus."

Fiona's eyes widened with comprehension. She had known Ginny long enough to understand the significance of Ginny's wos. "It's him, isn't it?" she breathed, "Tom is back...Oh...but that means..."

Ginny merely nodded. Without a word, she stood and walked out of the dormitory.

I need to see Remus, Ginny thought urgently as she swept through the portrait hole and past a very disgruntled Fat Lady. Her feet carried her automatically to the library, where Remus Lupin could be found at all hours in constant research.

After Voldemort had been defeated, Professor McGonagall had wanted to rehire Lupin as the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, but the werewolf had declined. "People are still much too prejudiced against werewolves. Most parents would feel uncomfortable sending their child to an institution that employed such an abomination as I am," he had said, with a small smile. McGonagall had been slightly miffed, but she had finally agreed that Lupin was right. She consented to forego the incredible benefit of his teaching abilities if he agreed to come to Hogwarts as a researcher. At least that was what she had called it. Lupin ended up being more of a tutor.

Ginny snapped out of her reverie as she reached the library. After a cursory search, she had not found him, and she was about to huff out of the library when she heard an odd noise coming from behind several shelves. She raced around the shelves and was greeted by the oddest sight. Remus Lupin was chatting away at a book that lay open in his hand...and the book w talking back!

Momentarily distracted in her mission, Ginny stood and stared at the pair for a full minute before Remus looked up and noticed her.

"Ah, Ginny," he said affably, snapping the book shut in the middle of a long-winded phrase. "What can I do for you, my dear?" He followed her eyes to the book he still held. "Ah, yes, my latest invention. I find it so much easier to research when the books respond to my questions." He seemed to notice that Ginny was looking at him as if he were quite mad, so he shrugged and put the book away. "It helps pass the time," he said, "but I don't think that's what you're here for."

Ginny immediately remembered the reason she had come to Remus. "Remus...he's back. Tom is back."

Lupin's face turned grave. "Oh my..." he muttered, "oh, this is not good at all..."