Secrets

---------------------------------------------

CHAPTER 8: With a Family Like This

---------------------------------------------

By Monday morning, everyone in the castle knew about Colin's Petrification, and nearly everyone was convinced it was Harry's fault -- Colin had, after all, annoyed Harry for weeks with his incessant photography, and he'd been sneaking out at night to annoy him again. Ginny would have protested this conclusion more vigorously, but she still felt like scum for sending Colin to visit Harry when she knew the Heir was around.

Tom told her over and over that she couldn't have known, that the Heir hadn't done anything for over a week, and that even if she had been sleepwalking and run into the Heir, it wasn't her fault that she hadn't woken and stayed to help Colin. She had, after all, been asleep.

Ginny acknowledged this, but she felt awful anyhow. "I don't care if I couldn't have known," she said to Tom. "I still sent him out there. And I can feel bad about it if I want to!"

"I suppose I can't stop you," said Tom, as he sat across from her at a library table. "Are you certain you don't remember anything useful to tell the professors?"

"Yes!" hissed Ginny. "And I don't want them poking around my head to see if they might find anything useful."

Tom shrugged and leaned back in his chair. He couldn't actually touch anything besides Ginny and the diary, they'd discovered, and those only with the lightest of feathery pressures -- but other solid objects seemed to affect him despite his inability to reciprocate, which kept him from simply drifting through walls or sinking through furniture.

"I simply think you might feel better doing something you consider useful," he said, "rather than waiting for spring and the Mandrakes. I've noticed that Gryffindors like action, and while you're more intelligent than many of your housemates, you do seem happier when you're actively engaged in some plan or adventure."

"Fine then." Ginny slammed shut her Charms textbook and stuffed it into her bag. "I'll do something -- I'll find Sir Vladislav and ask him what he thinks I should do."

"As you wish," said Tom, before Ginny closed the diary and his form thinned and vanished like evaporating fog.

Ginny stomped through the corridors and down the stairs to the first floor, where the stairs had -- again! -- moved across the stairwell from Myrtle's bathroom and Sir Vladislav's alcove. Feeling somewhat put-upon, she began her trek through the first floor corridors, peering suspiciously at half-closed doors and large statues. Fred and George, noticing her worry over the attacks, had taken to jumping out at her from all manner of mad places -- generally with strange, magically induced deformities -- and she really didn't need them following her now.

As she walked down the corridor toward Sir Vladislav, a faint scuffling noise caught Ginny's ear. She glanced around, trying not to look like she'd noticed anything -- and Sir Vladislav casually knocked his sword against his greaves, the hollow sound of metal on metal echoing from the stone walls.

"Bloody hell!" cried two voices in unison, and the twins belatedly sprang from behind the suit of armor, sporting suppurating boils on their faces, overgrown buck teeth, and gnarled claws for fingers.

"That's not sporting, old chap," said Fred reprovingly to the suit of armor, lisping through his unnatural teeth. "You don't warn people before you surprise them." George nodded in agreement.

"I'd already heard you anyhow," said Ginny, glaring. "Stop following me! You're giving me heart attacks, jumping out from nowhere all the time."

"Aww, is ickle Ginny sweetums scared of her big brothers?" said Fred, grinning.

"Her big brothers who only want to cheer her up and make her smile?" added George, circling to her left as Fred circled right.

"No, and you know it, you toad-lickers," said Ginny, stepping aside to put Sir Vladislav at her back -- the twins would never hurt her, but she didn't trust them an inch when it came to embarrassing practical jokes.

"She insults us, George."

"I noticed that too, Fred."

"Family turning on each other."

"Tragic, absolutely tragic."

"It cuts my heart."

"Mine too."

"Oh, shut it," snapped Ginny, folding her arms. "If I'm upset it's my own problem and you're not helping anyhow. Go bother Percy or Ron instead."

The twins exchanged speaking glances. "We would," said Fred, "but Ron's taken to vanishing rather effectively--"

"--and Percy's threatened to take fifty points off Gryffindor the next time we bother him--" said George.

"--which leaves you," they finished, with identical unsettling grins.

Ginny felt like she was back in Percy's first year at Hogwarts, when, deprived of their usual victim, the twins had tried to turn on Ginny. That plan hit a snag when Ron refused to help them -- baiting Percy was fine in his books, but baiting Ginny was a different story -- and the twins' first trick found Ginny ready and waiting for them. They quickly learned that, unlike Percy, Ginny would rather sock them in the nose than tattle to Mum.

They'd been on a more equal footing after that, but the twins still hadn't been happy with the attention Mum lavished on her only daughter, or the way Mum had blown up over the one really spectacular prank they'd managed to pull on Ginny. Being Mum's favorite could be dangerous. And when Fred and George were upset, they got vicious.

Ginny suspected they were more worried about the attacks than they were letting on.

"I don't care about Ron and Percy -- just leave me alone," she said now, refusing to back down. "Go bother the Slytherins instead."

"But how can we ignore our poor ickle Ginny sweetums!" cried George.

"When she's so upset and all alone!" added Fred.

"She did ask you to stop bothering her," said a new voice, startling all three Weasleys. The twins whirled; Ginny peered down the corridor between them. Harry stood at the head of the stairs -- which once again had shifted back across the well just in time to let people interrupt conversations in front of Myrtle's bathroom -- though in this case Ginny welcomed the interruption.

"If Ginny's upset, it won't help to scare her," continued Harry. "And you might scare someone else and get hexed -- people are jumpy." He frowned at the twins. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"Ask Ginny," said Fred with a shrug. "We were following her."

Ginny spared a second to wonder how they'd got ahead of her in that case, before realizing that Harry was waiting for her to explain herself, green eyes fixed on her face. "Er, I just wanted to... to see the writing," she mumbled, pointing vaguely at the scarlet letters that still decorated the wall across from Myrtle's bathroom. "If it said anything else. Because Colin's in hospital."

"Oh," said Harry. "Yeah. Er, he'll be better in the spring."

"Yeah," muttered Ginny, flushing. Harry was talking to her! And she had no idea what to say. At least there wasn't a butter dish around to stick her elbow in.

The twins had been watching this exchange with vastly amused expressions. "I think," said George suddenly, "we'll leave you two lovebirds to your own devices."

"Ta then," said Fred. "Places to go, people to see -- you know how it is."

Laughing, they slipped off up the stairs, leaving Ginny and Harry staring blankly at each other.

"I'll go now," said Ginny after several seconds, Sir Vladislav forgotten in her embarrassment.

"Okay," said Harry.

Ginny hurried down the corridor -- away from the stairs, in case the twins were traveling slowly. They meant well enough, probably, by some skewed definition of "well," but she'd really rather not deal with them again just now.

Especially not after they'd watched her make a fool of herself in front of Harry.

---------------------------------------------

Things calmed down after another week with no new attacks -- though the trade in protective charms continued at high volume -- and Ginny was able to focus on her work and learning from Tom. She didn't manage to use the Serpensortia hex on Daphne; it was too flashy for Ginny to avoid getting caught. She was able, though, to hit her with a Leg-Locker Jinx at just the right moment to have her crash headlong into Snape's desk. Daphne insisted she been shoved or hexed, but Snape -- furious at the disruption of the ingredients he'd been preparing -- for once took points from Slytherin.

Ginny felt quite smug about that, despite the poisonous glares Apple kept sending her way.

At the beginning of December, Errol splashed down into Percy's pumpkin juice during breakfast, bearing a letter from Mum. Percy handed Errol down the table to Ginny, who wrapped him in a napkin for later delivery to the Owlery; there was no point in exhausting him again by making him fly there. Meanwhile, Percy dried the letter, looked it over, frowned, and called for a family meeting in the common room that evening. The other Weasleys looked askance at each other; none of them had done anything particularly noteworthy lately.

"So, Percy, what's got you so hot and bothered?" asked Fred when they commandeered a corner of the common room.

Percy scowled; the others snickered. "Mum and Dad invited Uncle Edward for Christmas, and he's bringing Aunt Charlotte and Aunt Bernice with him. We have to decide whether to go home or stay at Hogwarts for the holidays."

"I'm staying!" said Ron immediately.

"So are we," said George, throwing his arm behind Fred's shoulder.

Percy looked expectantly to Ginny. "I'm not going anywhere near Aunt Bernice!" she said. "She's always turning up her nose and telling Mum I'm a tomboy, and then Mum forces me into those stupid lacy dresses. I won't do it."

"Good show, Ginny," agreed Fred. "So then, we're all staying. Right, Percy?"

Percy frowned. "Simply because Aunt Bernice is difficult to get along with is no reason to avoid family obligations. But if you lot are that inconsiderate, I'll tell Mum I'm coming alone."

"Oh no you don't!" exclaimed Fred, leaning forward and shaking his hand at Percy. "You're not making us look bad for staying. None of us are going home."

The others nodded in agreement.

Percy opened his mouth to protest, but Ginny cut him off. "Come on, Percy. You know you don't like Aunt Bernice any better than we do -- and we'll see them over the summer anyhow."

"Don't remind me," groaned Ron. Ginny stuck her tongue out at him.

"Listen, Percy," said George. "It's four against one here. You agree to stay or we'll make your life miserable the rest of term."

"Blackmail is inappropriate behavior and unworthy of Gryffindors," snapped Percy, "and I'm certain Mum will agree with me when I tell her."

"Bloody tattler," said Fred. "Solve your own problems, you prat. You already said you'd tell Mum we were giving Ginny nightmares -- which we weren't -- and now you're threatening to tattle for something we haven't even done yet?"

"Hey!" said Ginny. "What do you mean, he said he'd tell Mum you were giving me nightmares?"

"For jumping out at you," said George.

"With boils and whatnot," added Fred.

"Why did you think we stopped?"

Ginny glared accusingly at Percy. "They were obviously bothering you, you were obviously upset, and you're still looking too pale and tired," said Percy defensively. "I had only your best interests in mind."

Ginny folded her arms and sulked. "I can look after my own best interests."

"Right," agreed Ron. "But if you want to look after us, Percy, stay at Hogwarts. You can make sure we don't do anything... embarrassing."

Fred snickered. "Yeah, make sure we don't explode the prefects' bathroom."

"You wouldn't!" said Percy, looking alarmed.

"If you're at the Burrow, how will you stop us?" asked George, winking at Ginny and Ron.

"You leave me no recourse," Percy huffed. "I'll tell Mum we're abandoning her to Aunt Bernice. And you," he said, rounding on Ginny, "will come with me to the hospital wing and take some Pepperup potion. You're still too pale."

Ginny clutched the arms of her chair. "You can't make me!"

"Yes I can." Percy grabbed her shoulders and hauled her upright.

"Oi, let go! Help!"

The twins held up their hands ostentatiously. "You said you could look after yourself," said Fred. "We won't interfere."

Ron looked guilty, but just shrugged apologetically as Percy marched her across the common room and out the portrait hole.

Toad-licking cowards, fumed Ginny as Percy dragged her toward the hospital wing. She hated them all. Percy was a patronizing idiot. The twins were determined to do the opposite of what she wanted -- always around when she'd rather be alone, and then no help when she did want some. And Ron -- what did he think he was doing, throwing her to Percy as a sacrifice? She was sick and tired of being a pawn in family arguments.

"I'll get you for this," she told Percy as he opened the infirmary doors. "You just wait."

"I don't care about your silly revenge," he said. "You're still running around by yourself with a dangerous person on the loose, and you don't take care of your health. Whatever you might do to me is minor in comparison."

"That's what you think," muttered Ginny, and took her Pepperup potion, carefully not looking toward the curtained bed where Colin lay Petrified.

---------------------------------------------

When Professor McGonagall came around with her list a few days later, the Weasleys signed up to stay over the holidays. Percy maintained his disapproving stance in public, but when he finished his signature, Ginny caught him looking relieved. He talked a good talk, but none of the Weasleys liked Aunt Bernice and her endless disapproval. They weren't fond of Aunt Charlotte's weepy reminiscences of her dead husband, either, and while Uncle Edward was easygoing and had a store of fascinating war stories from his years as an Auror, he was somewhat deaf and always talked at the top of his voice. He also had apparently never heard of dental hygiene, and his breath reeked of garlic.

Ginny suspected Percy hadn't really minded being bullied into staying at Hogwarts, though of course he'd never admit that.

The next weeks were quiet, aside from the stress leading up to end of term exams, and, though some people still avoided Harry, the fear of an immediate attack receded further.

Ginny spent most of her spare time with Tom, exploring the castle or looking through interesting books in the library. Tom did seem to be getting more solid -- he still looked misty and insubstantial, but the mist now had hints of color, and when he tapped Ginny on the shoulder or fended off a mock swipe, his touch had more weight behind it.

"At this rate," he said one evening, "I may be able to leave the diary by March -- that's much earlier than I would have expected."

Ginny tried not to look smug. "I told you I'd get you out."

"And don't think I'm not grateful," said Tom.

"You really should be."

This calm routine lasted until nearly the end of term, when, after lunch on Thursday, Ginny spotted a clump of excited people around the notice board in the entrance hall. "What is it?" she asked Susan, who had just pushed out from the crowd.

Susan sniffed, but said readily enough, "They're starting a Dueling Club -- first meeting this evening. I'm going! We need to be able to defend ourselves against Harry Potter."

"He isn't the Heir," grumbled Ginny reflexively, but she couldn't help but agree that it would be good to know ways to fight when she -- probably inevitably -- ran into the Heir again. She wasn't certain how useful dueling would be if she sleepwalked, but there was always a chance she might wake up partway through an encounter, or that the Heir might start attacking during daylight.

That evening, Ginny joined what seemed to be most of the school as they flooded into the Great Hall at eight o'clock, dropping their bags and scarves near the doors. The long dining tables had vanished and a golden stage had appeared along the wall where the head table usually stood. The ceiling was velvety black, reflecting the moonless night sky, and the thousands of floating candles seemed almost like miniature, earthbound stars.

Ginny pushed her way over to Xanthe and the other Hufflepuff first years.

"Hi, Ginny!" said Xanthe, standing on tiptoes and waving over Caroline and Anne's shoulders. "This is so cool."

"Yeah," agreed Ginny. Then a thought struck her. "Do you know who's teaching us?"

"No idea," said Xanthe.

"Well I think it's Professor Lockhart," said Caroline, bubbling with even more enthusiasm than usual. "He's the Defense teacher, after all, and he's fought so many evil wizards!"

Anne nodded, while Ginny and Xanthe exchanged despairing glances.

"Ooh, look -- I was right!" cried Caroline, and Lockhart himself swept through the staff door onto the golden stage, wearing remarkably frilly plum-colored robes. Snape followed him, looking, thought Ginny, as though he was both anticipating the sight of Lockhart making a fool of himself, and dreading the prospect of remaining in the other man's company long enough for that humiliation to occur.

"Gather round, gather round," called Lockhart, waving his arms. "Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!

"Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions -- for full details, see my published works."

"Self-absorbed git," Ginny muttered in Xanthe's ear. Xanthe nodded.

"Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape," continued Lockhart, flashing a wide smile. "He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry -- you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him, never fear!"

"Don't worry, you can keep him!" said Xanthe.

Ginny snickered. "I'd be more worried for Lockhart -- if I cared."

Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed; at least, Lockhart did, with much twirling of his hands, whereas Snape jerked his head irritably. Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them.

"As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position," Lockhart said, turning aside to face the crowd and flash another smile. "On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course."

Ginny thought that would be more of a problem for Snape than Lockhart; the Potions master was visibly struggling to suppress either a sneer or a teeth-baring grimace.

"One -- two -- three--"

Both of them swung their wands above their heads and pointed them at their opponent, but while Lockhart was still adjusting his wrist position, Snape struck.

"Expelliarmus!"

A dazzling flash of scarlet light blasted Lockhart off his feet; he flew backward off the stage, smashed into the wall, and slid down it to sprawl in an untidy head of fabric.

Some of the Slytherins -- including Draco Malfoy and Daphne -- cheered. Ginny and Xanthe shrugged; it was about what they'd expected. Caroline and Anne, on the other hand, were twitching with nerves.

"Is he hurt? Is he dead?" asked Anne.

"I can't look!" said Caroline, peeking through her fingers.

"Stop being such babies," said Xanthe, her tone kinder than Ginny thought the others deserved. "Look, he's getting up."

Lockhart was, indeed, clambering unsteadily to his feet. His hat had fallen off and his wavy hair was standing on end, his careful styling job ruined. One of the nearby girls offered him a comb, which he accepted with a brilliant smile and made quick use of.

"Well, there you have it!" he said, tottering back onto the platform. "That was a Disarming Charm -- as you see, I've lost my wand -- ah, thank you, Miss Brown -- yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don't mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy -- however, I felt it would be instructive to let them see..."

Snape's glare had turned positively murderous. Lockhart seemed to notice, unlikely though that sounded, because he quickly changed the subject. "Enough demonstrating! I'm going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you'd like to help me--"

They moved through the crowd, starting from opposite ends of the stage and matching up partners. Snape, discovering the first years huddled more or less together, said, "First years, in your Potions groups. Miss Wilkinson, since your group has three members, you'll partner Mr. Leeds, whose regular partner is currently lying Petrified in hospital."

Anne shrugged at her Potions partners and allowed Snape to deposit her in front of Jasper, both looking somewhat flustered at Snape's callous mention of Colin's unfortunate fate.

Ginny stayed next to Xanthe and Caroline -- who, it turned out, were Potions partners -- waiting for Electra to come over. Eventually the Slytherin girl pushed through the other Hufflepuffs, dragging Daphne and Ruth in her wake.

"Weasley," said Electra, her heart-shaped face screwed into an expression of utmost disdain.

"It isn't as if I asked to be your partner," said Ginny, glaring at the blonde girl and at Daphne, who was hovering behind Electra's shoulder.

Electra sniffed. Daphne grinned in a rather unsettling manner, and Ginny was very unhappy when Electra maneuvered her into standing with her back to the other Slytherin.

"Face your partners!" called Lockhart, back on the platform. "And bow!"

Ginny ducked her head, trying to sneak a look at Daphne while she was bent over.

"Wands at the ready!" shouted Lockhart. "When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm you opponents -- only to disarm them -- we don't want any accidents -- one... two... three--"

Ginny swung her wand over her head and yelled, "Expelliarmus!" She'd never practiced this charm before, and she was startled when red light actually did shoot toward Electra.

Of course, Electra had also managed to make the charm work, Ginny realized, as a matching blast of light crashed into her shoulder, jarring her grip on her wand.

She looked over at Electra; the Slytherin had fallen backwards and was now shaking her head dizzily and groping for her lost wand. "Yes!" said Ginny, turning away. "Xanthe, did you see -- I did it!"

Something crashed into her back; Ginny found herself slumping to the floor, her legs no longer willing to support her. She caught herself with her hands, and twisted to look behind herself.

"Sorry, Weasley!" said Daphne brightly, wand still pointed at Ginny. "I need to work on my aim." Ruth and a dazed-looking Electra giggled beside her.

Argh. That backstabbing, toad-licking, scum-sucking cow! "Aquifer Maxima!" shouted Ginny, sweeping her wand in the general direction of the Slytherin trio and concentrating as hard as she could on the spell Professor Sprout had taught them last week. She wasn't certain her mangled version would work, but she needed more than just a trickle...

A wide jet of high-pressure water shot from her wand, drenching the laughing girls. They'd been wearing mascara, Ginny noted, and a lot of it; it was painting streaks down their faces as water dripped from their hair.

"Sorry," said Ginny, her tone carefully neutral. "I need to work on my aim too."

"Stop! Stop!" screamed Lockhart, his voice echoing fruitlessly through the hall. Ginny blinked, dismissing Daphne for a moment and looked around: multicolored spells flashed back and forth in the crowd, many of them clearly not Disarming Charms, and a greenish haze of misfired magic was rising toward the ceiling.

At that point, Snape took charge. "Finite Incantatem!" he shouted, describing a circle with his wand and halting the runaway spells. He retreated to the stage, sneering, as Lockhart skittered through the carnage.

Ginny regained control of her legs, and stood up. This was obviously no way to run a Dueling Club -- students were sprawled all over the hall in various stages of distress. Xanthe patted Caroline's back while the dark girl coughed up butterflies; Jasper, under the influence of Anne's furious glare, grudgingly apologized for breaking her glasses; Apple clutched her now-purple plait in disbelief as Susan frantically tried to undo her scrambled spell; and various other first years seemed rather dazed from bad falls.

Ginny glanced over at Daphne, and winced at the Slytherin girl's murderous expression. "That was my best robe, Weasley," said Daphne, wringing out her sleeves, "and you got it wet. And I'll never get the stains out of my handkerchief. You'll regret this."

Ginny shrugged nonchalantly, but edged closer to Xanthe just in case.

"Dear, dear," said Lockhart, still picking his way toward Snape through the aftermath of the duels. "Up you go, Macmillan.... Careful there, Miss Fawcett.... Pinch it hard, it'll stop bleeding in a second, Boot--

"I think I'd better teach you how to block unfriendly spells," he said, standing flustered in the middle of the hall. He glanced at Snape, and looked quickly away from the Potions master's dark eyes. "Let's have a volunteer pair -- Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you--"

"A bad idea, Professor Lockhart," said Snape, gliding over like a large and malevolent bat. "Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest spells. We'll be sending what's left of Finch-Fletchley up to the hospital wing in a matchbox." Neville's round, pink face went pinker, and Ginny fumed. Yes, Neville was a bit hopeless, but still! There were limits.

"How about Malfoy and Potter?" said Snape with a twisted smile.

"Excellent idea!" said Lockhart. He waved Harry and Draco Malfoy into the middle of the hall; the crowd backed away to give them room.

"Now, Harry," said Lockhart. "When Draco points his wand at you, you do this."

He raised his own wand, attempted a complicated sort of wiggling action, and dropped it. Snape smirked as Lockhart quickly picked it up, saying, "Whoops -- my wand is a little overexcited--"

Xanthe tapped Ginny on the shoulder. "Why is Snape going along with this nonsense?"

"He wants to humiliate Harry," whispered Ginny. "See, he's telling something to Draco Malfoy. Stinking cheater."

Snape was, indeed, whispering in Draco's ear, causing a smirk to spread across the Slytherin's pale face. Harry seemed to be asking Lockhart something, but the professor paid no attention.

"Three -- two -- one -- go!" he shouted, beaming with excitement.

Malfoy raised his wand and bellowed, "Serpensortia!"

The end of his wand exploded. Ginny gasped as a long black snake shot out of it, fell heavily onto the floor between the two boys, and raised itself, ready to strike. That was the hex Tom had taught her -- the snake was poisonous and magically compelled to bite somebody. She backed away involuntarily, feeling the other first years press against her in their hurry to get away from the snake.

"Don't move, Potter," said Snape lazily, an amused smirk on his face as he walked closer to the motionless Harry. "I'll get rid of it..."

"Allow me!" shouted Lockhart. He brandished his wand at the snake. With a loud bang and a puff of lavender sparkles, the snake, instead of vanishing, flew ten feet into the air and crashed to the floor with a loud smack. Enraged, hissing furiously, it slithered straight toward a Hufflepuff boy and raised itself again, fangs exposed, poised to strike.

Ginny covered her face with her hands, peering through her fingers. She really hoped Madam Pomfrey had the antidote to Serpensortia venom.

And then Harry was dashing forward, still pale and unsteady from surprise, and shouting at the snake -- no, hissing at it, in a weird, harsh voice that wasn't his own -- and the snake slumped to the floor, head resting on its loose coils and eyes fixed on Harry.

Ginny blinked. Harry had broken the snake's compulsion. You could do that?

Wait a minute. Harry had hissed at the snake. He was a Parselmouth. That was Slytherin. That was bad. But he'd saved the Hufflepuff boy. That was good. Not even people as silly as the other first years could get angry with him for saving somebody, right?

"What do you think you're playing at?"

The shouted words jarred Ginny out of her racing thoughts, and she looked up as the Hufflepuff boy stormed out of the hall, shaking with rage or fear, leaving Harry dumbstruck in his wake.

Snape stepped forward and banished the snake, never taking his eyes off Harry. He had a calculating look on his face, as if he'd received a key to a secret room with unknown, but possibly valuable, contents. Ginny didn't like that look.

Ron and Hermione didn't seem to like it either, because they grabbed hold of Harry and steered him out of the hall; people drew aside to let them pass.

"Love of light," said Xanthe from beside Ginny, sounding shaken. "Love of light, Harry Potter's a Parselmouth."

"That's Dark magic, Slytherin magic," said Caroline in a worried tone. "Maybe Ernie's right and he is the Heir of Slytherin."

"But he told it to leave that boy alone," said Ginny. "Didn't you see? It was going to attack, and then it stopped when Harry told it to." And so what if he was a Parselmouth? Talking to snakes couldn't be evil if what you said helped somebody, no matter what other people had done with that ability.

Caroline shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe he just wanted it to wait for a better time -- how are we supposed to know what all that hissing meant?"

"No, that doesn't make sense," said Anne, "not if Snape could banish the snake that easily. But they say You-Know-Who talked to snakes. Maybe it's a sign."

"A sign of what?" demanded Ginny.

"To be careful," said Anne. "The Chamber of Secrets is open, someone's Petrifying people, and now Harry Potter's a Parselmouth. And Justin Finch Fletchley -- the boy the snake was going after -- he's Muggle-born. I'd watch out for Harry Potter."

"Ooh! He's not the Heir! Even if he can talk to snakes, that doesn't mean he's evil -- he was keeping it away from that Justin person. Lockhart's the one who set the snake on Justin." Ginny felt like tearing her hair out.

Xanthe patted her worriedly on the shoulder. "Ginny, nobody's saying--"

"I'm not saying Harry Potter's the Heir," interrupted Anne. "I'm just saying I'd be careful around him. You never know." She glared at Ginny. "And Professor Lockhart didn't do that on purpose. He must have still been shaken up from when Snape cheated and knocked him down." Caroline nodded emphatically.

"Snape's a toad-licker but he didn't cheat; Lockhart's just incompetent. And Harry isn't evil." Ginny returned Anne and Caroline's glares, nodded politely to Xanthe, and shoved her way through the milling, gossiping crowd, pausing only to scoop up her bag before she slipped out of the hall.

What was it about people that made them turn into complete idiots whenever something a little bit different happened? And why did they all want to think it was Harry's fault? He'd saved everyone when he was just a baby -- why did they think he was going to turn evil now?

Ginny fumed, stalking blindly through the corridors until she found herself at the door of Myrtle's bathroom, hand stretched toward the brass doorknob. She frowned. Yes, she wanted to talk to Tom, and yes, she wasn't likely to be interrupted in Myrtle's bathroom, but it was an odd place to go while not paying attention, especially since she didn't walk this way normally. If her feet were going places on their own, she'd expect to end up in the Gryffindor common room or the library, not visiting Myrtle's dank home.

Nevertheless, it was private. Ginny opened the door and walked in.

The bathroom had been cleaned a bit since the last time she'd been inside, as if someone had lost all patience with the scummy floor and given it a good scrubbing. A quiet burbling caught Ginny's ear, and she peeked into one of the abandoned stalls.

Someone had left a potion brewing over a toilet, warmed by a waterproof blue fire. Ginny frowned. Who would be using Myrtle's bathroom to brew a potion? And why brew potions out of class anyhow?

Hmm. "Hermione conjures blue fires," Ginny muttered to herself, absently fishing the diary from her bag and opening it so Tom could hear. "Tom, I'm in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and there's a potion brewing over one of the toilets with a portable fire under it, the kind you can make all different colors. This one's blue, and Hermione always colors hers blue. And I know she was in here last month with Ron and Harry, trying to find out about the Heir. Do you think they might be brewing this potion."

"Maybe they are," said Tom, wavering into visibility. "But their last adventure turned out to be harmless, so if Harry and your brother are involved I don't think it particularly matters what the potion is. In any case, truly dangerous potions tend to require constant attention from the brewer and if this were something of the Heir's, I'd expect it to be better guarded than this."

Ginny winced. "I didn't even think of that. But that reminds me -- I need to tell you about the Dueling Club. It turned out to be Lockhart's idea, and he made an utter mess of it. Snape was there too -- he actually knows what he's doing -- but he just wanted to watch Lockhart humiliate himself.

"Anyhow, after we tried dueling -- I disarmed Electra, Daphne hexed me in the back, and I got her back with a watering spell -- they had a demonstration pair, and Snape picked Harry and Draco Malfoy. Only he cheated and told Malfoy how to cast Serpensortia. The snake got mad and was going to bite a Hufflepuff -- Justin Finch-Fletchley, I think -- but Harry hissed at it and it backed off."

Ginny looked at Tom, making sure he realized the significance of this.

Tom quirked an eyebrow in confusion. "So Harry Potter is a Parselmouth... that's interesting, but I don't see what it has to do with the Heir."

"Because the Heir is the Heir of Slytherin," Ginny said, giving Tom the look she usually reserved for Ron's moments of supreme idiocy, "and Slytherin was a Parselmouth. Mum says You-Know-Who was too. So now everyone thinks Harry's the Heir again! And Ron and Hermione shoved him out of the hall before he could explain anything."

She kicked halfheartedly at the pipes under one of the sinks, too worried to storm around and burn up her anger. "Anne said Harry might have been telling the snake to attack Justin, because he's Muggle-born. But he wasn't; he told it to leave him alone. It was obvious! The snake backed off and curled up -- he broke the compulsion -- and if Harry stopped the snake from biting Justin, why does it matter how he did it?"

Tom shrugged. "People don't think logically when they're afraid. They look for scapegoats instead, and Harry is unfortunately in a position where he's an obvious target. People like to see heroes brought to earth, to see great men revealed as liars and agents of evil. Harry is suffering because of that impulse as well as the desire to create a scapegoat."

He walked over to the window and sat on the sill, grimacing at the slight mildew residue. "I've never understood why Parseltongue is looked on with so much fear and hatred. Then again, I've never understood why people dislike snakes. They're harmless in general, and can be useful and friendly pets. Also, Slytherin was a great man before he left Hogwarts, whatever he may have done afterward. Why do people remember only his departure instead of the decades he spent building this school and teaching young wizards -- not only those of his House, and not only those of pure blood?"

Ginny sighed. "Because people are stupid and don't think logically and want scapegoats and like to see great men brought low. Like you said."

She leaned against the sink nearest to the window. Her anger was starting to seep away, leaving a sort of empty worry and frustration in its place, emotions that weren't much good at keeping away her sudden tiredness. "It isn't fair. It isn't fair at all. I suppose it isn't Justin's fault he got scared and ran out of the hall -- I'd be scared if a giant snake came after me! -- but he didn't have to yell at Harry like it was Harry's idea to set the snake on him. That was Snape and Malfoy's fault, for summoning it, and Lockhart's fault for making it mad and knocking it in front of Justin."

"Illogical thinking. Scapegoats," Tom reminded her, smiling ironically.

"Yeah."

Ginny fiddled with her wand, realizing she still had it loose in her pocket instead of back in her bag. "Tom, are there any spells to make people stop being idiots?"

"That would be useful," agreed Tom. "Unfortunately, changing people's minds is Dark magic -- think of the Imperius Curse, for example. Even Memory Charms can be dangerous, which is why their use is carefully regulated. Anything much stronger than a simple Cheering Charm -- and anything that causes negative emotions -- is unfair tampering and probably illegal."

Ginny considered that. "I suppose that makes sense. But I was thinking more... a spell to make people calm down and think about things logically instead of jumping to conclusions. That shouldn't be unfair, right? It's actually helping people think straight."

Tom shrugged, running his fingers through the pages of the diary. "One would think so, but it's still interfering with people's natural thinking processes. That sort of spell -- which does exist, if I remember correctly -- is illegal except in cases of extreme emotional distress or insanity, and only trained Healers are allowed to use it. I wouldn't begin to know how to teach it to you, even if I knew how to cast it myself."

"Toad guts."

"It's irritating, I know, but think of how you'd feel if someone cast a spell to make you think that Harry's the Heir." Ginny made a face, and Tom nodded. "Exactly. That's why those spells are so dangerous -- there's no guarantee the person using them is thinking straight himself."

Ginny sighed and moved next to Tom, leaning against his side. He didn't feel completely solid yet -- touching him reminded her of pressing on a feather pillow -- but any human contact was a comfort. "It isn't fair. Everything's a mess -- Colin's in hospital, everyone hates Harry, my brothers are idiots -- and I can't do anything to fix it."

Tom patted her awkwardly on the shoulder -- he still didn't seem very experienced at having a surrogate little sister. "I know, Ginevra, I know. But don't worry. I'm here with you."

---------------------------------------------

-This way, my lady- the dark man whispered. -Rest and sleep; I will seek out spies-

They slipped through the castle, hand in hand, and the princess let him lead. The moon shone through broken windows to cast silver shadows on the tiles, serpentine threads of light twined amidst the darkness.

-Where do you lead?- the princess asked.

-Through dark and shadow, shame and secrets- The dark man smiled. -Ahead is the chamber that holds the records. The sorceress sleeps; her spies are uncovered. Shall I seek them? Shall we strike?-

-Yes- she told him, and he found the answers.

Ginny blinked awake in her bed, surrounded by darkness. "Strange dream," she muttered. The princess had been out looking for things again. "At least I didn't go anywhere this time."

She rolled over and drifted back to sleep.

They slipped from the castle, into the storm, swallowed by snow and silence. -The first beast is dead- the dark man whispered, -but the giant has found another-

-Kill it- she told him.

Their hands strangled the beast, closing the throat forever, silencing its deathly cries. A stone sliced through the breast, let the blood flow, disguising their work.

-All is prepared, my lady. We await but your word to silence the spies. Shall I seek them? Shall we strike?-

-Yes- she told him, and the dark man smiled.

"Mmrph." Ginny flicked her bed curtains closed after one glance around the room and flopped onto her stomach, burying her face in her pillow. The sun was up, though it was hard to tell through the snowfall whiting out the windowpanes, and she didn't feel particularly rested. Her feet felt gritty, as though she had sand in her sheets.

Ginny blinked. Had she been out walking again last night? She peered under her covers -- yes, her feet were gritty and there was dirt smeared around her sheets. Her fingers were ink-stained, as though she'd been paging through a badly-printed book, or taking very sloppy notes.

Hmm. She thought she'd been dreaming about the princess again, but the dragon hadn't been there. The idiot girl had been looking for something else, or talking to someone. But this dream was hazier than the others, and that was all she remembered.

She really hoped the Heir hadn't been out taking advantage of the new suspicions toward Harry.

There were other people in the room, so she couldn't talk to Tom directly; she'd have to write. Ginny sighed and slipped the diary out from under her pillow. "Dear Tom," she wrote, as he materialized, "I'm writing because I don't want anyone to overhear us. I think I sleepwalked again last night -- I dreamed about the princess -- but I don't remember what she was doing, just that the dream was about her. Do you think anything happened?"

"Since you're still here and unharmed, Ginevra, I doubt any calamity struck during the night."

"I'm not worried about me," wrote Ginny, frowning at her friend. "But everyone's suspicious of Harry again since the Dueling Club -- what if the Heir did something!"

"The only way to find out is to get up and look around," said Tom. "I assume we'll talk later, when you know more?"

"Of course! Thanks, Tom." Ginny closed the diary and attempted to stand; she wavered on her feet, feeling as drained as if she'd been running all night. Maybe she had been.

The worst thing about sleepwalking, decided Ginny, as she made her slow, shaky way down to the Great Hall -- worse even than being tired the next day -- was not having any idea what she'd been doing in the night. Yes, the dreams helped a little, but they were always hazy and cloaked in weird symbolism, and she remembered even less of this last one than usual.

She slumped into a seat at the Gryffindor table, nearly setting her hand into a bowl of scrambled eggs in her effort to keep from falling face-first into her plate.

"Ginny!"

Percy's alarm, strident against her tired ears, cleared through some of the haze.

"Ginny, you look awful -- far too pale, and you're falling asleep into your food. We're going to see Madam Pomfrey right now."

Ginny fixed her hands on either side of her plate and stared straight ahead. "No, we're not. There's nothing wrong with me. I'm just tired. I'll be fine once I've eaten breakfast."

Percy glared at her. "I don't know what's got into you lately -- always snappish, always pushing us away. You're not yourself. You need to see Madam Pomfrey."

"I don't! And you can't make me!" Ginny met Percy's glare, venom for venom. "Stop treating me like I'm a baby -- I'm eleven years old and I'm not going to fall to pieces just because I'm a little bit tired."

By now the rest of the early-rising Gryffindors were watching them, some covertly and some with less regard for potential rudeness. "You're making a scene," said Ginny, more softly. "And Snape's coming in the door -- he'll take points..."

"You're an insufferable little brat," huffed Percy, "and I can't believe I'm related to you. If you faint or come down with fever, don't say I didn't warn you." He retreated to the other end of the table and began rather viciously slicing an apple.

Ginny grabbed a piece of toast from a platter and buttered it, spreading the melting yellow pat evenly over the bread. She wasn't a baby. She was eleven years old and she was at Hogwarts now. She was old enough to learn magic, old enough to be trusted not to make her spells go wild. Why didn't her brothers realize she was old enough to take care of herself?

Ginny finished her toast and pushed her plate away, resting her head briefly on her arms. She was so tired; she'd just close her eyes for a minute...

"Miss Weasley, while it's commendable to be early for class, please move from the doorway so the fifth years can exit."

Ginny blinked. What on earth? Numbly, she moved aside and let a stream of larger students flow past her while she tried to figure out where she was. On the other side of the exiting students, Professor McGonagall regarded her with a slightly puzzled expression.

"Thank you, Miss Weasley. Come in and sit down; you look a bit peaked," said Professor McGonagall.

Ginny walked through the open door into the Transfiguration classroom. What was going on? She'd closed her eyes for a moment at breakfast, and now she was in Professor McGonagall's classroom, apparently just fifteen minutes before her morning lesson.

She'd lost almost three hours.

Had she been sleepwalking again? But she hadn't even dreamed anything! And she hadn't gone to sleep... at least, Ginny didn't think she had. She'd just put her head down for a moment and blanked out completely.

This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all.

She really had to talk to Tom.

Ginny attempted to focus on Professor McGonagall's lecture, but her mind kept whirling away to horrible speculations. And then, halfway through the lesson -- they were attempting to create color patterns in fabrics, which had interesting results when people didn't aim their wands properly and colored desks, parchment sheets, or other people's hair by mistake -- a distant crash echoed through the castle. Ginny flinched. Oh God.

Professor McGonagall pressed her lips together and frowned. "Peeves, no doubt. Continue."

Ginny raised her wand for another attempt, when a scream rang out. "ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! ATTAAAACK!"

Professor McGonagall whitened, seized her wand firmly, and dashed out the door. The first years followed on her heels, Ginny quietly panicking. She'd been right! The Heir had done something! And she couldn't remember where she'd been this morning.

They pelted down several corridors and arrived at utter chaos, students and teachers milling about, trying to see who the new victim was. Professor McGonagall grabbed everyone's attention by setting off a loud bang, and ordered the students back to class. As they trailed away from the scene, Ginny was able to peer back and see a tableau that made her heart sink.

Justin Finch-Fletchley was lying Petrified on the floor. Nearly Headless Nick, gone black and smoky, was floating horizontally next to him. And Harry was standing beside them, staring in shock.

It was the sort of set-up the twins could only dream of.

"Caught in the act!" a white-faced Hufflepuff boy yelled melodramatically, pointing his finger at Harry. All through the corridor, students nodded in fascinated agreement.

"That will do, Macmillan!" said Professor McGonagall sharply. The Hufflepuff -- who must be the Ernie Macmillan that Xanthe had mentioned as a rumor-monger -- backed off resentfully and joined the slow flood of students away from the scene.

Peeves's voice followed the first years back to the Transfiguration room, singing. "Oh, Potter, you rotter, oh, what have you done? You're killing off students, you think it's good fun..."

Ginny looked at the panic, excitement, and absolute conviction of Harry's guilt on the faces of her classmates, and felt sick.

---------------------------------------------

This new attack turned the undercurrent of worry into outright fear, fueled by rumors and speculations spilling wildly through the castle. Justin had stood up to Harry Potter, and look what had happened to him! And what on earth could Petrify a ghost? What could hurt someone who was already dead?

Most of the people who'd previously signed up to stay over the holidays changed their minds and booked last-minute seats on the Hogwarts Express.

"Cowards," muttered Ginny as her housemates lined up to scratch their names off Professor McGonagall's list.

Susan shot her a sour look. "We're just being sensible, Ginny. It's easy for you to be brave -- your brother can probably talk Harry Potter out of hurting you -- but what about the rest of us?"

Ginny stomped over to the portrait hole rather than answer Susan.

What did they know anyhow, all those idiots? They didn't know that Ginny had seen the Heir. They didn't know that he seemed to be toying with her, scaring her and letting her go, wiping her memory and watching her fear build. They didn't know it was her fault Colin had gone to visit Harry after the Quidditch match.

She couldn't tell anyone except Tom. Percy would only drag her off to the hospital wing again, and she might as well be invisible for all the attention Ron gave her. As for the twins...

"Look out, make way!"

"Step aside for the Heir of Slytherin!"

"Stand back, seriously evil wizard coming through."

Fred and George appeared around the corner, waving their arms at the few students in the corridor. Harry, walking behind them -- for once without Ron and Hermione -- seemed to lost in his thoughts, not really noticing the twins' games. He didn't notice the way people flinched away from him as though they took Fred and George at face value.

Ginny gritted her teeth. "Stop it!" she said, stepping into George's personal space. "How would you like it if everyone went around saying you were an evil wizard?"

Fred stepped over and wrapped his arm around George. "Oi, you sound like Percy," he grumbled. "Keeps saying this is 'no laughing matter,' 'you should watch your steps,' and all that rot."

"What's funnier than Harry being an evil wizard?" asked George. "Really, Ginny, lighten up and see what a great joke it is!"

Ginny fumed. "It isn't funny! Colin's in hospital, and Mrs. Norris and Justin and Nearly Headless Nick, and nobody knows who's doing it!"

The twins exchanged glances, but Harry spoke first. "It's all right," he said, catching Ginny's eyes. "It's nice to know at least somebody thinks me being the Heir is a silly idea."

Ginny flushed, but tried valiantly not to stammer or look away in embarrassment. "But they're just encouraging everyone else to think you're evil. Nobody else notices they're joking, or they think all Weasleys are safe because of Ron."

"Now there's a thought," interrupted George with a mock-thoughtful expression. "Hmm. D'you suppose we could get our little brother to exert his influence on you, Harry, and let us pick your next victim?"

"Who should it be?" asked Fred.

"Oh, Flint, obviously," said George. Fred nodded, and they both turned to Harry.

"So, oh mighty Heir, what do you say to Petrifying Flint?"

"Oh, don't!" Ginny cried. "Don't say things like that! What if he is next, and somebody remembers hearing this? Then everyone will really think it's all Harry's fault." And how will you feel, she added to herself, knowing that you wanted him gone? Revenge sounds like a nice thing but it doesn't feel good at all, not when people end up lying frozen in hospital.

"Then everyone will be incredibly stupid," said Fred. "Give it a rest, Ginny."

The twins walked off in a huff, leaving Ginny to stare at Harry with the realization that he'd just heard her practically wailing in distress over the idea that people thought he was evil. She felt her face flame to a temperature that she was sure made her tomato red. Why couldn't she ever managed anything properly around him?

"Er..." she said.

"Thanks for believing I'm not the Heir," said Harry awkwardly, "but don't worry about Fred and George. Er, I should be going."

"Right," said Ginny, and fled.

---------------------------------------------

End of Chapter 8