The Rebirth

Chapter 5

The Protector

November 1, 1997

Ginny regained consciousness by degrees. Her brain woke up first, the layers of sleep peeling away as awareness gradually invested her thoughts. Next, Ginny's body began to lose the heaviness of slumber. Her arms and legs regained mobility, and as soon as she had the energy to do so she yawned, the air rushing into her lungs and drawing her even closer to the land of the living. Ginny arched her back and tensed her arm and leg muscles in a long, feline stretch. Finally, she opened her eyes.

The first thing she noticed was that the charm had worn off of her hair; it was back to its usual length. The next thing she saw was that she was wrapped in a cloak that was way too long to be hers. Harry. Ginny pulled her pillow over her head and groaned. What bad luck that he would wait up for her the one night she got pulled into the Otherworld. And now she would have some serious explaining to do. Plus, her dress robes were probably ruined. Maybe she could find some kind of charm to fix them up. No doubt Gwen knew one for restoring silk that had gotten wet.

Ginny squirmed out of the cloak, which had tangled with her pajamas while she slept, and stuffed it under her pillow. She would return it to him later, when there was no chance her friends would see it and ask questions. When she was satisfied that the incriminating article of clothing was well and truly hidden, Ginny opened the curtains on her bed and looked around the room. Ria was nowhere in sight, and her towel was gone off of the rack next to the door. She was probably in the shower. On their respective beds, Gwen and Shannon scribbled in notebooks. "'Morning," Ginny said, still a bit drowsy.

Gwen smiled. "Thanks for joining us this morning, Sleeping Beauty."

"What are you doing?" Ginny asked.

"We're recording every minute of last night so we don't forget a single thing," Gwen replied, a blissful look on her face. "I think I'll marry a Ravenclaw. That way, it won't matter if I'm hopeless at magic. He'll be able to do everything."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "You know, Gwen, you could just study once in a while."

"Now where would be the fun in that?" Shannon asked without looking up from her journal.

"Will you two be long? I promised Mike Fletcher I'd meet him at two, so we'll want to get to Hogsmeade soon." Ginny swung her feet to the floor and retrieved her towel from the rack. Her friends were engrossed in their writing and didn't reply. "Hey!" she ordered. "Hurry up and finish! We have to leave."

Gwen blew the ink dry on her latest page and returned the journal to her trunk. Shannon scribbled quickly, rushing through the last few sentences. Ginny was rummaging around in her trunk in a search for shampoo when Shannon said, "You know, Gin, you should keep a diary. They're good for preserving memories."

"Yes, I hear they're very good at that," Ginny answered dryly. She shrugged then, and reached for the doorknob. "I tried it once but it didn't take. I'll see you both in the common room in half an hour, got it?"

The two girls nodded dutifully, and Ginny swung the towel over her shoulder and headed for the showers.

* * * * *

Gwen and Shannon weren't even dressed yet when Ginny returned from the bathroom, and although Ria's towel had been returned to the rack, Ria herself was still nowhere to be seen. "I'll wait for you two downstairs," Ginny told them. "Everyone else is gone. We're not going to have much shopping time."

The two girls murmured a response, but they weren't about to rush their makeup application. Ginny rolled her eyes in exasperation as she walked down the stairs. Just a few days ago they had been beside themselves with excitement about this shopping trip, but now they were wasting time primping in case they ran into their Ravenclaws, neither of whom Ginny thought was anything especially memorable.

She opened the door to the common room and swore under her breath. Not everyone had left yet, it would seem. Was she really that surprised, though, after he waited up for her last night? "Good morning, Harry," Ginny said.

Even though his back was to her, Harry wasn't caught off guard by her arrival. He had felt her nearness as she descended the stairs. "'Morning, Ginny." He turned to look at her. "Aren't you going to Hogsmeade?"

"I'm planning on it, but Gwen and Shannon are slow. And Ria is MIA."

"I think she got wind of the little excursion you three had planned. You know how she is with shopping."

"We were going to shop for things for her," Ginny pointed out.

Harry shrugged. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, thanks."

The pair faced each other across the room in awkward silence. "Ginny—" Harry began, but he was cut off by Gwen and Shannon, who descended the steps in a flurry.

"Hurry up, Gin! We're wasting valuable shopping time!" Gwen exclaimed as they hurried past.

Ginny followed them, but as she walked by Harry he caught her arm. "Ginny, wait." He gave her friends an apprehensive glance, and then leaned down and said, quietly so they wouldn't overhear, "Don't go to the Three Broomsticks with Fletcher today."

"Why not?" Ginny looked at him suspiciously.

His eyes pleaded with her. "Go with me instead."

For a moment, Ginny was utterly stupefied. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, but then it occurred to her that she probably looked like a fish and that she'd better think of something intelligent to say. "No." Intelligent? Can someone be intelligent and monosyllabic at the same time?

Harry blinked. "No? Just...no?"

"I mean, I can't." This was going badly. "I promised I'd meet him." She glanced over her shoulder at her friends, who both tried very hard to look like they weren't eavesdropping. "I can't just break a promise. And even if I could, I wouldn't want to." She cursed herself as soon as the words were out of her mouth. Her sharp tone had hurt him; she could see it in the sudden vulnerability in his face, feel it in her soul just as surely as if the emotion were hers. "Harry, I didn't mean—"

His eyes were shuttered as he shook his head to cut her off. "I know," he said. "Just be careful, all right?"

"I'm meeting Mike, not Voldemort. I've known him since I was two." She knew she was treading on dangerous ground, but at the moment she didn't care. Who did he think he was, really? His request had been beyond presumptuous, and he was lucky that she hadn't really given him a piece of her mind for it.

Harry stared down at her, his face carefully expressionless, but beneath the mask his emotions boiled dangerously close to the surface. He clamped down with an iron control he didn't know he possessed, but Harry knew he hadn't fooled her a bit. He nearly suffocated with the bizarre protectiveness that only she inspired, and he let it pour over her, let her feel the full extent of his paralyzing frustration, tangible in its intensity. Even though he appeared perfectly in control on the surface, Harry wanted to put his fist through a wall. In this state, his calmness was infinitely more alarming than his anger would've been; the disparity between what Ginny saw and what she felt was giving her a case of vertigo.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" Ginny whispered. Harry didn't answer; his face remained blank, but she was engulfed in the turbulence of his soul. She tried to pull away, but he maintained a firm grip on her upper arm.

"Ginny, is everything okay?" Gwen asked.

"It's fine, Gwen," Ginny answered, her eyes locked on Harry's.

Let go of me, Ginny ordered through their link. No response. Harry, now! Still, he didn't reply. She wrenched her arm from his grasp and backed up a step, placing herself out of his reach. He took a step closer to her, and she backed up again.

She felt the change in him immediately. He looked down at the hand that had held her arm and then back at her. She felt his dismay and confusion; he realized that he had lost control, that he had hurt her. The wildness of his feelings frightened him. Ginny wanted to reach out to him, to tell him that everything would be all right, but she didn't want to get within his reach in case he grabbed her again. She was surrounded by Harry, mentally and emotionally, and neither one knew how it was happening. She felt the piece of him that she carried within her leaking out into other parts of her being, and she barely knew anymore where he ended and she began. Though unsettling, the mental connection established that morning four weeks ago had seemed fairly innocuous. But it had snowballed into something that Ginny knew neither one of them was equipped to handle.

Harry's voice was measured and even when told her, "I want to talk to you later." To Gwen and Shannon, who had abandoned all pretenses and were now openly listening in, he seemed perfectly casual. Ginny knew that he wouldn't take no for an answer. Will you be able to get away? He sent the thought through their link.

She nodded. I will after we get back from Hogsmeade.

"Good," he said out loud. There was another awkward pause.

"Harry—" she began.

"Ginny, come on!" Shannon was impatient.

"Right. I have to go," Ginny told Harry.

He nodded. Hell if he was going to wish her a nice time with Fletcher. They looked at each other for another uneasy moment, and then she turned and followed her friends out of the portrait hole.

Harry didn't know how long he stood alone in the common room, looking blankly at the door through which she left. He couldn't understand what was happening to him, but whatever it was, it had begun on that morning by the fire. He had been slowly realizing his feelings for Ginny since the day she had picked him up at the Dursleys', but whatever had happened last month had released something that Harry was unable to control. The violent urge to defend Ginny at all costs—from Mike Fletcher's teasing, from Ernie MacMillian's desertion, from...he didn't even know what anymore. All he knew was that a few minutes ago he had hurt her because he had been unable to contain his instincts.

Harry couldn't explain what had changed or how it had happened, but he decided that, when Ginny returned from Hogsmeade, the two of them would have to tell Dumbledore everything. He had resolved after Cedric's death to never keep anything to himself that might have something to do with Voldemort or dark magic. Dumbledore needed all the information he could get if he was going to lead the fight against the Death Eaters. But, for now, Harry needed some exercise to clear his head. He turned on his heel and ran up to his room to retrieve his Firebolt.

* * * * *

Outside, the air was cold and crisp. It stung Harry's cheeks as he strode to the Quidditch pitch, his broom slung over his shoulder. Nothing took his mind off of his problems like flying. The promise of the freedom of soaring high above the world, away from Voldemort and Ginny and Mike Fletcher, made Harry quicken his pace. As he came around the corner of the broom shed he collided with Ria, who held her Nimbus in one hand and a Quaffle in the other. She shrieked in surprise, and then looked slightly embarrassed.

"Aren't you going to Hogsmeade today?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I didn't feel like it. I suppose you're hiding from the fashion police?"

She grimaced. "Are they gone yet?"

He nodded and she sighed in relief. "Thank the gods. I told them I didn't want to go, but Gwen can be very persistent."

"So you hid."

She nodded, and Harry gave her a half-hearted smile. "Not very Gryffindorian of you, Ria."

"I notice you didn't join them."

"Not a chance." He managed a weak laugh.

Ria gave Harry an appraising look. Something was bothering him; it was obvious. And, being Harry, he was going to try to keep it all inside. "Do you want to play a little one on one?" she asked. Harry hesitated, and she threw the ball, hitting him squarely in the chest. He only just managed to catch hold of it before it fell to the ground. "Come on," Ria said. "Let's see if the son of James Potter, legendary Chaser, can handle a Quaffle. Unless you're scared...."

He looked at the ball in his hands, then up at the sky, and back at Ria. "You're on." And the two of them kicked off the ground.

Harry quickly learned that flying as a Chaser was nothing like flying as a Seeker. Being a Chaser was much more physical, and required strength and balance rather than strong eyesight and agility. He swooped towards the goal, but had to dodge Ria, who came straight at him. When he grabbed his broomstick to pull up, he lost his hold on the Quaffle. She caught it and scored easily.

Ria took the Quaffle back out to the center of the field, and faced the goal posts. She took a deep breath and then threw her broom forward, barreling down the pitch. Harry positioned himself directly in front of her, and she pulled her broom up. He copied her movement, and watched in amazement as she hurled the Quaffle over his head as hard as she could, made an abrupt dive, flew beneath him, and caught the ball before it hit the ground. She soared to the goal with a neat twist of her broom and easily scored again. Ria turned to face Harry. "Don't be afraid to block me!" she said, taking up her position at center field again. "You can't be nervous about getting hit."

"I'm not used to this," he called.

Ria scored three more goals in quick succession. "You play like a girl!" she exclaimed with glee. "Try again. Watch for the feint. You have to anticipate my moves."

This time, when she faked right, Harry hurled himself to the left. Her sudden swerve to avoid a collision loosened her grip on the ball, and he plucked it right out of her hands. With a whoop of triumph, Harry threw the Quaffle through the goal.

"Much better! You're getting the hang of it." Ria gave him a grin of approval. Both players were flushed and breathing hard. The brisk wind that blew fifty feet off the ground stung their cheeks and ruffled their hair. Ria wished that she had remembered her scarf.

"Can we take a break?" Harry asked. "It's cold up here."

They landed in the middle of the pitch, and Harry used his wand to conjure two of Hermione's special bluebell fires. He and Ria each cupped one in their hands, trying to warm up a bit. For a moment they just stood and tried to catch their breath.

"So, did you have fun at the ball last night?" Ria asked in an attempt to make conversation. "I didn't get to see you much after dinner was over."

Harry gave a derisive snort. "Did you hear about what happened to Ginny?" he asked by way of answer.

She frowned in concern. "Ginny? Is she all right?" Ria hadn't seen Ginny after the ball, and because she had avoided her friends that morning she hadn't heard any news about the night before.

"MacMillian abandoned her. He just...left. With Hannah Abbott."

"And Ginny was upset?" Ria asked incredulously. Ginny hadn't even wanted a partner in the first place. Why would she care about Ernie leaving with someone else? Especially because at dinner Ginny had seemed more annoyed with him than anything.

"That's not the point," Harry asserted. He was on a roll. "The fact is, MacMillian invited her to the ball and then deserted her. And then she was almost blasted by Malfoy. And she wound up having to dance with Mike Fletcher."

"A fate worse than death, I'm sure."

Ria's dry tone wasn't lost on Harry. "It's not funny," he said. "They're at the Three Broomsticks right now, doing God knows what."

"At the Three Broomsticks?" Ria couldn't hide the smile tugging at her mouth. "That should be a show. There's nothing I hate more than when people meet for butterbeer and then do God knows what. Right out in public, too."

"Stop teasing me!" Harry insisted. "It's not funny."

Ria tilted her head to the side. "You know what I think is funny?" she asked. "That I asked whether you had fun at the ball and all you've talked about is Ginny. Now," she tapped her finger on her lower lip in thought. "What I would like to know is why Ginny has anything to do with whether or not you had fun?"

Rather than answering her question, Harry fisted his hand to extinguish the blue flame, threw the Quaffle at her, and kicked off the ground. She caught it deftly and followed him into the sky.

She faced him at center field, and they sped at each other. Don't be afraid to get hit. Don't be afraid to get hit, Harry repeated to himself. They rushed closer, playing a game of chicken on broomsticks, fifty feet in the air. She's not going to pull up, Harry realized frantically. Just before they collided, Ria smoothly flipped her broom one hundred and eighty degrees and, hanging upside-down, passed directly under him. Harry whirled his broom in surprise and watched her right herself and shoot the Quaffle through the goal without even slowing down.

"A modified Sloth Grip Roll," Ria called as she tossed him the Quaffle. "You're not a Bludger so I had to improvise a bit. Want to play best of three?"

Half an hour later, Ria led by eighty points. Although she still outmaneuvered Harry with little trouble, he was definitely better than when they had begun. He had even managed to score three goals, and after each one he carried on as though he had single-handedly won the house cup. Harry was having the time of his life, learning the position that his father had held. It gave him an entirely different perspective on the game.

When Ria scored her twelfth goal, Harry called, "Do you want to take another break?"

She grinned and tossed the Quaffle to him. "I'll race you to the ground!"

Now Harry was in his element. With a laughing shout, he threw his broom forward and hurled himself towards the earth as though he was diving for the Snitch. Ria never stood a chance. They tumbled onto the grass, and once again he conjured a few bluebell flames for them to hold. Ria cupped the fire in silence, determined that he should be the one to start the conversation this time.

Harry watched her watch him. He thought again about Mike Fletcher, and then realized that he was being presented with a golden opportunity. He was alone with Ginny's best friend. Screwing up his courage, Harry asked, "Um, Ria? You know Ginny and Mike?"

She looked at him as though he was crazy. "Yes, Harry. I know Ginny and Mike," she answered slowly.

"No, that's not what I meant." He paused to carefully phrase his question. "Do think there's anything between them that I should know about?"

Ah. Now she was getting somewhere. "I don't think there's anything about Ginny or Mike that you should know about," Ria answered. "Since, you know, you're not their parents. If they don't inform you of something then it's because it's none of your business."

"Can't you just tell me, Ria?" Harry asked, not meeting her eyes. "It's important."

She looked at him for a moment without speaking. Then, "Why do you want to know?"

Harry didn't answer. Ria sized him up while she considered what she wanted to say next. He stood, shoulders straight, his hands cupped around the blue fire. His head was turned slightly away from her, presenting her with a three-quarters profile, and, although his chin was up, his eyes were locked on the ground. She could tell that he was having a hard time asking her these questions. "Harry," Ria said gently. "Do you...care...for Ginny?"

He didn't move or speak for a long moment. Then, slowly, he turned his eyes to hers and nodded. "Then you should tell her," Ria said.

"It's easier said than done," Harry replied. He sounded lost, unsure of how to proceed when his very happiness rested with someone who might not return his feelings.

"That might be true, but you still have to do it." Ria's tone was matter-of-fact, but her eyes reflected her sympathy for his situation.

"What if she says that she doesn't feel the same way?"

"So what if she does? That doesn't mean you can just sit on something like this."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck in agitation. He said under his breath, "There has to be some way to steal her back from Fletcher."

"I hope I didn't hear that correctly," Ria said. She took a step closer and looked up into his eyes to reinforce her point. "Let me give you some advice, Harry, because Ginny is my friend and I want her to be happy. She is not an object to steal. She's a person who makes her own decisions, and if you go into this with any other attitude you're going to get exactly nowhere. Mike isn't your enemy. You both care about Ginny in different ways and you both want the best for her. Thinking of it any other way is disrespectful to her and to the relationship you seem to want."

Harry was quiet for a moment, absorbing her words. Finally, he nodded. "I know. You're right. Of course you're right."

They were silent for another moment. Ria looked around the pitch. Her breath formed white clouds of steam in the chilly air. "Do you want to go inside?" she asked.

Harry's mouth curved into a smile as he shook his head. He picked the Quaffle up from the ground and straddled his broom. "Best out of five?" he asked.

Ria grinned. "You don't have a prayer, Potter." For the third time that afternoon they kicked up into the sky.

* * * * *

Ginny stood in front of the mirror and held the dress up in front of her. It was deep green velvet, with long sleeves and a high neck. The color was perfect, the cut was perfect, the dress was, without a doubt, one of the most beautiful she had ever seen. A saleswitch came up behind her and met Ginny's eyes in the mirror. "The color is divine with your hair, miss. That piece is from our winter line. It's a steal at three hundred Galleons. May I wrap it up for you?"

"No thanks," Ginny answered. "I'm just looking."

The witch moved on to another customer and Ginny turned back to her reflection. The dress was wonderful, but there was no way she could ever afford any clothes from this shop. Gladrags was the most expensive boutique in Hogsmeade. Besides their rather eclectic selection of socks, they carried the most up-to-date styles in wizard wear.

The bell on the shop door jangled, and Ginny glanced over to see who was coming in. It was Hermione. She walked over to Ginny with a huge smile on her face and said, "That color is fantastic on you! Are you going to buy it?"

"I wish," Ginny answered. "I can't afford anything in this place. What are you doing here?"

"Ron is in Zonko's. I saw you through the window and told him I'd come say hello while he stocked up on dungbombs. What are you doing here if you don't have enough money for the clothes?"

Ginny motioned with her head to the other side of the store. Shannon had tried on extremely short robes and was scrutinizing her reflection in the mirror outside of the fitting room. The price tag that dangled from the hem read, "Scandalously Expensive."

"It's Shannon's favorite shop," Ginny told Hermione.

"Shannon has enough pocket money to buy robes at Gladrags?" Hermione asked in disbelief.

"Are you kidding?" Ginny answered. "The Cannons are an old pureblood wizarding family. They're as high in the instep as they come, and have at least as much money as the Malfoys."

Hermione's eyes narrowed and she gave Shannon an apprising look. "What?" Ginny asked.

"Well," Hermione said, "The majority of Dark Wizards who were sent to Azkaban during You-Know-Who's first rise to power were purebloods, weren't they? We really should keep an eye on people like that now that You-Know-Who has returned. Especially ones from old families. You can never be too careful."

Ginny put the green dress back on the rack and said tightly, "You know, Hermione, I would think that your obsession with crusades would have taught you not to make judgements about people based on their backgrounds."

Hermione was momentarily confused, and then realization spread across her face. "Oh, Gin! I didn't mean you."

"No?" Ginny asked. "I'm a pureblood from a family as old as anybody's. So is your boyfriend, and so is Harry. Who were you talking about, exactly, if not us? Shannon, who's one of my best friends? Neville Longbottom? Or maybe Dumbledore? Who, Hermione?" The other girl didn't answer. Ginny shook her head. "Look, I understand that these are scary times for muggle borns because of Voldemort. But that doesn't mean that all, or even most, purebloods are Death Eaters."

"I didn't mean it that way."

"Yes, you did," Ginny said. "And we both know it. Just...try not to judge all of us for the actions of a few, okay?"

Hermione was silent. It wasn't often that she was ashamed, but she was now. She prided herself on being open minded. She was a dedicated social crusader, after all--the founder and President of S.P.E.W. It would seem that even people who worked for justice and equality could have prejudices of their own. It was something Hermione knew she would have to consciously struggle to overcome. "I'm sorry, Ginny," she whispered.

"I know," Ginny said. She looked at her watch, and then over to Shannon and Gwen, who were debating the merits of a skirt made entirely of opaque orange bubbles. "Girls," she called. "I have to go."

Shannon gave a distracted wave, but Gwen looked up long enough to say, "Meet up with us when you're done?"

"Maybe," Ginny answered. "If I don't, then I'll just see you two back at Gryffindor."

"I should go too," Hermione said. "Ron was only running into Zonko's for a minute."

"Nice way to stick it right in your mouth, Granger," said a voice from off to the side as Hermione and Ginny walked to the front of the store.

"What are you talking about?" Hermione turned and eyed the Gladrags customers, trying to find the speaker.

"Your foot," came the response as one of the Silvermoon twins walked out from behind a shoe display. From her tone of voice Ginny was willing to bet it was Delia, "You know the old open mouth insert foot routine?" A sneer marred the girl's otherwise pretty features.

"Were you eavesdropping?" Ginny asked, somehow managing to sound threatening and mild at the same time. "Not very polite of you, is it?"

"So?" she said. "I can do whatever I want. It is a free country." Delia raked Hermione with an insolent look. "Have a nice day," she said, and walked out of the shop, her shopping bag held so that no one could miss seeing the store name on the side.

"Bitch," Ginny muttered under her breath. "Ignore her, Hermione."

"It's true, you know," said Dana, poking her head out from behind one of the racks. "She really is. Sometimes I think one of us was switched at birth. Then I remember that we're identical. It kind of kills the theory." She shrugged carelessly.

Hermione remembered Dana from the night before. "Are you sure you were sorted into the right house?" she asked. "No offense, but you don't really seem like the Slytherin in the family."

"Was I sorted into the right house?" Dana repeated with a slight smile. "I have no idea. Maybe Delia and I managed to confuse the hat."

Ginny looked at her watch again. "It's nice to see you again, Dana, but I have to run. I'm meeting someone at the Three Broomsticks."

Dana checked her own watch. "So am I, in a little while," she said. "Maybe I'll see you there?"

Ginny smiled at the younger girl. "I hope so," she answered, and waved goodbye as she and Hermione left the shop.

Dana watched the girls leave, and then went over to the rack Ginny had looked at before Hermione arrived. After a few moments of searching she found what she was looking for—a dress of deep green velvet with a high neckline. Dana held it up and looked at her reflection. She said under her breath, "Well you have some fine taste at least."

The saleswitch hurried to her side. "It's a beautiful choice, miss, and with your coloring it'll be perfect. Shall I fetch one of the seamstresses to adjust it for you?"

Looking the dress up and down, Dana said in a bored drawl borrowed from many confrontations with Draco Malfoy, "No, I can get someone else to do that for me. Just wrap it up so I can pay for it and get out of here."

The witch took the dress and bustled over to the counter. Well what do you know? Dana thought, amazed at the woman's promptness. Malfoy has at least something right: act snobbish and haughty and they treat you like royalty. Not that I plan to do this often.

* * * * *

Ginny jogged up the street and into the Three Broomsticks. She raced in the door, her hair flying around her head in a red-gold halo. Her cheeks were flushed, both from running and the cold, and her robes blew about her body until she closed the door and shut out the November wind. Ginny spotted Mike carrying two drinks to a table near the fireplace, and she hurried across the room to join him.

"Sorry I'm late," she said as she slid into the chair across from him.

"Are you late?" he asked. "I forgot my watch."

"In that case, I'm right on time. You're early."

"I can live with that." He slid one of the mugs of hot, frothy butterbeer across the table to her.

Ginny took a sip of her drink and licked the foam off of her upper lip. "There's nothing better than warm butterbeer on a day like today," she told Mike.

He raised his mug in salute and took a drink of his own. They chatted about random things: Potions class, Quidditch, the NEWTS. Ginny wanted very badly to know about Mundungus, but Mike said at the Burrow that his father wasn't allowed to owl, even to let his son know that he was all right. It was no good asking a question that Mike couldn't answer.

As she and Mike talked, Ginny noticed Dana enter the pub and join Seamus Finnigan. The two of them seemed engrossed in a serious conversation, so Ginny decided to wait before going over to say a proper hello.

"So, where is it?" Ginny asked as she drained the last of her butterbeer.

"Where's what?" Mike asked, genuinely confused.

Ginny kicked him under the table. "The gift," she said. "You promised it would be good."

Mike motioned to her mug. "You just drank it, Gin."

"The butterbeer? I'm not impressed."

"When you came in you said there was nothing better."

"But still!" she protested. "You really broke the bank on this one didn't you, Mike?"

He rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "I dance with her once and she's already demanding expensive presents!" he exclaimed in woe. Then he laughed and kicked her back.

"Cheap."

"Greedy."

Ginny stuck out her tongue. "Oh," Mike said. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize that we're five years old today."

"Be nice to me," Ginny ordered. "It's the day after my birthday."

"Greedy as a Slytherin." Mike shook his head in mock disappointment.

"Not all Slytherins are greedy," Ginny protested. "Some of them are nice."

"Yeah, right," Mike answered, and kicked her again for good measure. She retaliated, and the next several minutes were devoted to a viscous under-the-table skirmish that ended in a draw, although both had landed some very good shots.

"I'll prove it," Ginny said when she had stopped laughing enough that she could talk. "If I can find a nice Slytherin, you have to buy me another butterbeer."

"What if you can't?" Mike asked. "What do I get?"

"If I can't, then you win the privilege of buying me another butterbeer."

The two fell into another round of kicking. "That sounds fair enough," Mike finally gasped through his laughter.

Ginny stood and said, "I'll be right back." She headed over to Seamus and Dana's table at the other end of the pub.

* * * * *

Dana slowly spun her drink. "Sometimes I wonder myself how I ended up in Slytherin," she said in answer to Seamus's question. "I spend most of my free time either in the library or talking to the fourth year Gryffindors. I've had more than one ask me what I told the Sorting Hat to have it place me where it did." She sighed and continued, "My housemates spend most of their time criticizing me and you were right. Last night isn't the first time Malfoy and I have almost come to blows."

Seamus reached over and stopped the spinning mug by putting his hand over hers, "Don't worry about it. Personally, I think that he's just jealous because you're too good to even give him the time of day. He's too stuck on his high horse to admit that you have worth as a witch. I know I'm glad I met you."

"You really know how to make a girl feel better, don't you," Dana said.

"Ummm, no." Seamus gave her a sly grin. "How do I make a girl feel better?"

Dana slid her empty mug across the table with a smile. "By buying the drinks."

"Sure," said Seamus with an answering laugh. "I think a smile from you is probably worth the price of a couple of butterbeers."

The two of them stopped their conversation as Ginny approached the table. "I'm sorry to interrupt," she said, winking at Dana. "But I have an important favor to ask."

"Anything for a fellow Chaser," Seamus said. "What can we do for you?"

"Come sit with Mike and me. I need you to settle a bet."

The pair followed Ginny to the table next to the fireplace and took seats next to each other, putting Ginny in the chair to Mike's right. "Dana, this is Mike Fletcher, sixth year Ravenclaw. Mike, Dana Silvermoon. Fourth year Slytherin."

Mike leaned over and whispered in Ginny's ear, "This is a bet you can't win, my friend. Have you met this girl's sister?"

"Yes I have, and they're as alike as Ron and Malfoy," Ginny whispered back. "Either way I get a butterbeer out of it, so give her a chance."

"Ravenclaw huh?" Dana asked Mike. "I'm going to guess you know my beloved twin."

"That's right," Seamus said. "Your twin's in Ravenclaw, isn't she! When are you going to introduce me?"

"When hell freezes over, if I have any say in it," Dana muttered under her breath.

Mike watched the exchange with interest and then talked to Dana for a mere ten minutes before turning to Ginny and saying, "I'll get you that drink now. Coming, Finnigan?"

As she watched them leave Dana turned to Ginny. "What was that all about?" she asked, puzzled. "I'm all for settling bets but now I'm just confused."

Ginny elected not to explain. Instead, she said, "I'm sorry if I interrupted anything."

Dana shook her head. "Don't worry about it. He was just asking why I was sorted into Slytherin."

"It seems to be the question of the day," Ginny observed.

"I suppose so. Did you know that I'm adopted?"

"No, I didn't." Ginny wondered where this conversation was headed.

"Delia and I were adopted by the Silvermoons when we were babies. They're very rich and very posh, and they spent most of their time at charity benefits and playing tennis. The two of us were stuck with nannies and governesses, and only ever got to see our parents when they remembered that they had two children living upstairs."

Ginny glanced over at the bar and tried to catch Mike's eye, but he and Seamus were in a long line for drinks and weren't coming back to the table anytime soon.

"I just don't feel like my parents ever really notice me," Dana continued, not noticing Ginny's discomfort. "I mean, they always seem to notice when Delia does something and they're always showering her with complements and praises but the only time they ever really seem to remember I'm around is when they want to show off their two 'perfect daughters.'" The last phrase was laced with heavy sarcasm. "I'd be willing to do just about anything to get them to notice me for me not as an extension of Delia, you know?"

"How did wizarding children wind up being adopted by muggles?" Ginny asked, because she couldn't think of anything else to say. "There are controls to prevent that kind of thing."

"I guess our birth parents must have been muggles too," Dana answered. She traced her finger around the carvings on the edge of the table. "Delia doesn't think so, but it's the only explanation that makes sense." As a rule Dana never talked about her parents, biological or adopted. But there was just something about Ginny Weasley that made the whole story come tumbling out. The Gryffindor was a good listener, and she nodded and made sympathetic noises in all the right places of the tale. "I just...I think that's why I was put in Slytherin. The willingness to do anything to make them really see me, you know? Cunning and ambition and all that."

Ginny would have felt bad for the girl, but she got the impression that Dana would sooner cut out her tongue than accept pity from anyone. It was obvious, however, that the Slytherin had no one to talk to. Otherwise, she wouldn't be baring her soul to a near stranger in the middle of a pub. Ginny said, "Dana, I can't understand how any rational person could compare you and Delia and find you lacking."

Dana laughed but there was no humor in the sound. "Should I quote my parents?" She affected a rather high and snotty voice. "Cordelia is such a perfect child. We've never had any problems with her and she is just so bright and I'm certain that we will hear great things about her when she grows up." Now Dana took on a deeper voice, "What about the other girl? Diana, Deena what was it again?" And back to the first voice, "Oh, Dana. She's very pretty isn't she?"

Dana returned to her normal voice. "Sometimes I think all they want me to be is an ornament." She closed her gray eyes briefly and when she opened them again their expression was shuttered. "Look, forget I said anything, okay? I don't know why I'm bothering you with my life story and..." she paused, "don't tell Seamus please?"

"Don't tell Seamus what?" he asked as he and Mike returned to the table laden with mugs.

Ginny spoke quickly to cover for Dana. "Girl stuff, nothing you need to know."

"Right," he said, sitting down and putting a butterbeer in front of Dana. Dana gave him a bright smile but he could tell that something was bothering her. Maybe he'd get it out of her later, but for now he just wanted to enjoy himself.

Dana soon forgot her embarrassment over spilling her secrets. Ginny and Mike Fletcher were in rare form that afternoon. They kept Seamus and Dana in stitches with their bizarre name-calling and funny stories about childhood misadventures.

After another hour and a half, Mike caught Ginny's wrist and looked at her watch. "I should go," he said. "I have a lot of studying to do."

"I'll walk back to Hogwarts with you," Ginny told him. She didn't want to intrude on Dana and Seamus's date any more than she had already, and she didn't particularly want to rejoin Gwen and Shannon, who were trying on clothes that she couldn't even dream of affording.

"What?" he asked. "To study? I didn't realize Gryffindors knew how."

"I know you didn't just say what I think you said." Ginny struggled to smother her laughter. After all, house pride was at stake.

"Come on now, Gin. Just because Hermione Granger accidentally got sorted into your house doesn't make you all smart by association."

She kicked him under the table. "OW!" Seamus exclaimed. "What was that for?"

Dana laughed uproariously. "Ginny, I think you missed."

"Your pain is my good fortune, Finnigan," Mike said, standing quickly and darting several paces from Ginny's seat. "Are you coming or not?" he asked her. "Because I'm leaving now."

"Well don't go without me." She stood and shrugged into her cloak. "Sorry about the leg, Seamus. Dana, I'll see you around, all right?" She waved at them and followed Mike out the door.

"Bye, Ginny," Dana called after her. Then, she turned to Seamus. "Are you okay?" she asked, still giggling slightly. "Let me see." She reached for his shin at the same time he did and blushed when their hands collided.

* * * * *

Ginny and Mike walked back to Hogwarts at a brisk pace. The weather was freezing, and they wanted to get back into the warm castle as soon as possible. Mike sped up his pace, causing Ginny to lengthen her stride as well. In response, Mike walked even faster. Ginny accelerated to keep up. By the time they reached the castle door they were both at a dead sprint, trying to elbow one another off of the path. The pair flew into the entrance hall, and stood together, flushed and laughing, breathing hard from their run. Ginny rubbed her hands together to warm them, and then pressed her palms to her cheeks. The skin on her face was cold and smooth. Mike grinned down at her. "I win."

"Oh?" she said innocently. "I didn't realize we were racing."

"You lie like a rug."

She guffawed. "I what? Where did that come from?"

Ginny looked up at him, her eyes shining with tears of laughter. Suddenly, Mike leaned down and pecked her on the lips. It was a quick kiss, over almost before it had begun. The giggle died in her throat.

"So, I'll see you later?" Mike asked. He turned and started towards the hall that led to Ravenclaw House.

"Mike," Ginny said, her voice strangled. "What was that?"

He stopped and turned around. "Pardon? What was what?"

"That. Are you just going to walk away without explaining?"

He paused for a moment. "It's called a kiss, Ginny; I'm surprised you didn't know. Maybe Gryffindors should study more."

"Why?"

He shot her a lopsided smile. "Do I need a reason?"

"Yes."

He shrugged. "Just because."

"Last night you couldn't talk enough about how the sun rises and sets on Hannah Abbott," Ginny pointed out.

"Don't take everything so seriously," he said. "I wanted to kiss you, so I did."

"In that case, we need to work on your impulse control."

"If you say so."

"Just...give me a little warning next time, all right?" she asked.

"Sure," he answered. "If there's ever a next time, I'll send you a memo ten business days ahead of schedule."

"Thanks." Ginny smiled in spite of herself. "Study hard and all that."

"See you later, Gin." Mike shot her one last grin, and then started down the hallway. Ginny watched him for a moment, and then took the steps to Gryffindor tower two at a time.

* * * * *

Ginny peeked around the portrait of the fat lady. The common room was deserted. She climbed through the hole and pulled the painting closed behind her. Ginny had one and only one mission at the moment: to avoid Harry. She knew that he was planning to ask her all kinds of questions about how she fell in the lake, among other things, and she didn't want to talk about it. Ginny grabbed her bookbag from the coffee table where she'd left it, and climbed the stairs to her dorm room. She could keep away from Harry by hiding in there for the rest of the day. She'd get some homework done, at any rate.

Ginny sat on her bed and tried to think up a plan of action, in case Harry managed to corner her into a meeting. How could she explain falling in the lake? She would have to be dense not to realize that the ring, the goddess, and the telepathic link were all connected in some strange way, and that meant that she couldn't discuss any part of the situation without earning Mórrígan's severe displeasure.

Ginny reached into her bag to pull out a quill and her hand closed around a piece of scrap parchment. She pulled it out, and saw that it was a folded note.

Astronomy Tower. Eight o'clock. --H.

Ginny sighed. When he returned and saw that her bookbag was gone, he'd know that she'd found the note. And if she sneaked down to the common room to put the bag back on the table, he might see her and then she'd still have no way to get out of this meeting in the Astronomy Tower. The Astronomy Tower! How wretchedly unoriginal of him. Really, the things that go on in that classroom are quite appalling, she thought. The teachers should interfere. Hopefully sometime before eight o'clock.

* * * * *

Unfortunately for Ginny, McGonagall and Snape had not planned an Astronomy Tower sting operation for that evening. In fact, the entire area was deserted. She didn't see another student for the entire walk from the Gryffindor common room to her meeting with Harry.

Ginny pushed open the door. He was already there, leaning against the far wall. "I brought your cloak," she said, setting it on a desk.

"Did you have fun in Hogsmeade?" Harry asked.

Ginny nodded. His supply of small talk used up, Harry launched straight into the heart of the matter. "I've been thinking about our situation. We have to tell Dumbledore about the telepathy."

Ginny thought immediately of Mórrígan's reaction if she ran to a teacher. "Absolutely not," she told Harry. "It's out of the question."

"What if it's dark magic? He needs to know, Gin."

"It's not dark magic," she told him. "And we absolutely can not say a word about it to anyone."

"How can he help us if we don't tell him what's happening?"

"Us?" Ginny asked. "Unless I slept through something important, there is no us."

His eyes were intent on her face. "There could be. All you have to do is say the word."

She met his gaze. "What's that supposed to mean?" she asked. Harry didn't reply. He just stood and waited for her answer. Ginny raised her eyebrows and told him, "All right. Let's say that there is an us. What do we do then? Do we hold hands at lunch? Snog in empty classrooms? Fall madly in love and--"

"We're already in love." Harry stated it as a non-negotiable fact. Ginny froze. It was the first time he'd ever said the words, and for a second she was completely thrown. But she recovered quickly.

"You say," she retorted.

"Denying it won't make it any less true." He still hadn't moved from his place against the wall.

Ginny paused to collect her thoughts. "All right. Let's say for the sake of argument that we are. What then, Harry?" She raked her hand through her hair, as she always did when she was upset or agitated. Ginny began to pace back and forth across the narrow tower, putting Harry in mind of a barrister making opening statements. "Are you going to live in Hogsmeade next year so that we can see each other once a month when I'm allowed off school grounds? Will we owl each other every day like bloody Heloise and Abelard?"

"Sorry, who?"

She waved her hand dismissively. "A pair of Medieval Muggles. But they're by the way. You don't seem to realize that you're leaving in eight months. Bloody fantastic time to fall in love with someone, that."

She stopped her pacing and looked at him. Harry paused a moment, and then said, "You think this is going to go away? You think it matters one bit that we're going to be separated for a year before you finish school? What's a year, Gin, compared to...." He trailed off and fixed her with that solemn look again.

"Compared to what, Harry?" He didn't answer. "Compared to what?" The tension stretched between them, grew with their silent contemplation of each other. "To a lifetime. That's what you were going to say, isn't it." Her words were not a question. Ginny leaned her head back and looked at the tower's glass ceiling. "Shit." She looked back at him. "What exactly were you planning, Harry? Propose to me at my graduation, hmmm? Or maybe even at your graduation? What? We get married at eighteen like our parents? Sorry, I'm not interested."

"Then tell me you don't love me, Ginny." His eyes dared her to do exactly the opposite. "Look me in the face and say the words and I promise this will be the last you hear of it."

Ginny shook her head and ran her hand through her hair again. "I can't do that, Harry," she said. "You know I can't. But I'm just not ready."

He pushed away from the wall and joined her in the center of the room. "Not ready for what?"

"For this. Not yet. I have to learn who I am by myself before I can figure out who I am with you. It's too soon, you know? I'm barely sixteen, for heaven's sake. You're seventeen. We're neither of us old enough to start a relationship with the person we're going to marry." Ginny's throat began to close up, and she had to force the words out of her mouth. "I'm so sorry, Harry, but I can't give you the kind of relationship you want. It's not the right thing for either of us."

Harry slid his hand behind her back and pulled her close. He used his other hand to tip her chin up so that she was looking at him. Then, carefully and deliberately, he lowered his mouth to hers. It was a kiss like nothing Ginny had ever imagined. Slow and gentle, tender and thorough. It was the kind of kiss people share when they're in love, was Ginny's dazed thought as he pulled back from her lips. "You have all the time you need," he said quietly. He kissed her again, longer and harder. He wanted to imprint himself in her memory, on her body; he wanted her to relive this kiss in her dreams and recall it whenever she thought of him.

Harry pulled back a second time. "You don't have to worry," he murmured, stroking the back of his index finger up and down the side of her neck. "I won't bring it up again."

"You won't have to," Ginny whispered, her senses still reeling from the kiss.

He pressed his lips to her forehead. "I love you, Ginny. I always will. Never forget. Just because I don't say it doesn't mean that my feelings have changed."

"Harry, I--"

He placed a finger over her lips. "You don't have to say anything. Not until you're ready."

She nodded, and backed up a few steps. She was a bit unsteady on her feet. Ginny gave Harry a small smile, and then left the tower.

As Harry watched her go, he realized that he hadn't secured her agreement to talk to Dumbledore. He decided to give her some time before he brought it up again. It really was important that the Headmaster be informed of their link. Harry stood in the center of the room until enough time had elapsed for Ginny to reach her dorm, and then he grabbed his cloak and left the Astronomy Tower.

* * * * *

Ginny walked slowly and calmly through the corridors of Hogwarts. She descended several staircases, traversed three hallways, and then climbed the steps to Gryffindor tower. She recited the password in a clear, unwavering voice, crawled through the portrait hole, and walked up the stairs to the door that said "Sixth Years." Ginny entered her room, climbed onto her bed, and slowly drew the curtains. She took out her wand and methodically placed silencing charms on all four of the velvet barriers. Then she placed her wand under her pillow, buried her head in her hands, and sobbed until she fell asleep.

* * * * *

They were in a dungeon. It's floors, walls, and ceiling were made of dark gray stone, and torches flickered in wall sconces, illuminating the room with their eerie glow. The cloaked and hooded figures stood in a circle around a body that lay in a heap on the floor. "Have you killed him?" the tallest member of the circle asked, his voice high pitched and cold.

"No, master," a Death Eater replied. "He lives, but barely."

The Dark Lord bent down until his repulsive, snake-like face was barely an inch from the deformed features of his prisoner. The man's countenance, misshapen with scar tissue, was caked with a dark layer of dried blood. His magical eye was long gone, leaving an empty crater in his face. His other eye was swollen almost all the way shut. The man's limbs were twisted and bent from three solid months of undergoing the Cruciatus curse and any other tortures that might have entered the twisted minds of his captors.

"Who is she?" Voldemort hissed. "All you have to do is give me a name, and it will all be over." He trailed the point of his wand along the face of his prisoner, and watched with pleasure when the man shuddered with abhorrence.

"I don't know," Moody answered, his voice quiet but far from meek. "How many times can I say that I don't know?"

"Crucio." The Dark Lord laughed as the auror convulsed in agony. "Fool!" he exclaimed. "You were Albus Dumbledore's most trusted advisor. Do you expect me to believe that he wouldn't tell you of her identity?"

The curse ended, and Moody spat at Voldemort's feet. "I can't tell you what I don't know," he said insolently.

Voldemort turned back to his Death Eaters. "Give him another month. If he does not reveal her identity by then, perhaps he truly does not know."

"And at the end of the month?" Lucius Malfoy asked.

"Kill him."

In their respective bedrooms, two Gryffindors woke suddenly.

* * * * *

Ginny shivered at the realism of her nightmare. Why would she have dreamt about Voldemort and Professor Moody? It had been horrible, the most vivid dream she had ever experienced. He was so misshapen, his body so twisted from their torture....

Ginny rolled over, pulled the covers over her head, and tried to get back to sleep. That night, Mórrígan came to see her.

* * * * *

Harry sat up straight in his bed, his chest heaving with the residual fear of the dream. His scar burned on his forehead. Without thinking twice, he opened the curtains of his bed, pulled on a pair of slippers, and left the dorm. He had to tell Dumbledore, and he wasn't going to waste a minute.

The Headmaster stood in the open doorway to his tower office. "I saw you coming," he said, holding up the Marauders' map. Harry had never gotten it back after Barty Crouch, Jr., had been kissed by the Dementor.

"I had a dream," Harry said.

"Come upstairs."

The two of them rode the spiral staircase up to Dumbledore's office. With a wave of his wand, Dumbledore conjured a tea service for two and poured Harry a cup. "What do you remember?"

Harry sank into a chair. "Voldemort and Professor Moody. The Death Eaters were torturing him. They think he has some kind of information."

"Alastor is still alive?" Dumbledore asked in wonder. "We had begun to give up hope. What kind of information did they want?"

"I don't know, sir," Harry answered. "Voldemort kept saying 'Who is she?' He told Professor Moody that you would have told him who she is."

Dumbledore gave Harry an assessing look. "Did he say anything else about this person?"

"No," Harry answered. "He just wanted to know who she is. He said he needs to know her identity." They were silent for a moment. Dumbledore seemed lost in thought. "Sir?" Harry said. "Can I ask who they were talking about?"

"You could," Dumbledore told him, "but I doubt you'd get a satisfactory answer."

"Do you know who they meant? Voldemort said you do."

"I have an idea, Harry. That's all." He shuffled a few papers around and then said, "Tell me, have you noticed anything odd about Ginny Weasley lately?"

Harry set his teacup the desk. "Why would you think there's something strange with Ginny?"

"I don't have time to dance around this with you, Harry," Dumbledore answered. "It's vitally important that you tell me if you've noticed any...unusual...occurrences connected with Miss Weasley."

Harry knew he should talk to her before telling Dumbledore about the events of the past month, but he had informed her that he was going to go to the Headmaster. From the intense expression on Dumbledore's face, Harry figured that this information was much more important than either he or Ginny realized. Dumbledore seemed truly desperate. "Well, it started about a month ago...."

* * * * *

The garden was bright and sunny. The fragrance of exotic flowers spiced the warm breeze. Mórrígan lounged in a hammock, eating strawberries and plucking some kind of stringed instrument. As the last time Ginny saw her, the goddess was young, sensual, and indolent. She turned her head and said, "So glad you could join me, Virginia."

"What do you want?" Ginny asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I want to talk to you about that nice young man with the dark hair." The goddess gave a throaty laugh and popped another berry into her mouth.

"What if I don't want to talk about him with you?" Ginny answered.

"I don't recall giving you a choice." The goddess held up her dish, offering Ginny some berries. The girl shook her head. "You really were very hard on him today, weren't you, Virginia?"

"That's none of your business."

"Oh, but it is." Mórrígan gave Ginny a slow smile and told her, "I must admit that I'm impressed. When I told you to locate your protectors, I didn't think you would find one so quickly."

"Harry isn't my protector."

The goddess popped another berry into her mouth. "He's one of them," she said. "I daresay you'll find the other soon enough. You're a resourceful girl, aren't you, Virginia?"

"He's not," Ginny protested, even though she felt disloyal in saying so. Harry was one of the bravest people she knew and he had saved her life in the Chamber of Secrets, but there was no way he could be caught up with Mórrígan and her bizarre scheme, whatever it might be. "It's impossible."

"Is it? Why?"

Ginny thought of the events in the common room that morning, when he had grabbed her arm and not let go. She remembered the frightening turbulence of his emotions, the blankness of his expression even as he flooded her mind with roaring possessiveness. Surely a protector wouldn't frighten her the way Harry did earlier today.

"I see." Apparently, Mórrígan could read her thoughts. "You really mustn't blame him for that, Virginia. It's not as though he could help himself." The goddess swung her feet to the ground. "When the link opened between you two, it had consequences a bit more serious than telepathy." She stood, and walked away.

Ginny jogged after her. "What do you mean? How do you know about the link?" Her eyes widened in realization. "There was a crow on my windowsill. It was you, wasn't it. You're the one who cast that spell."

"Such a bright girl." Mórrígan's sneering tone was not lost on Ginny.

"Tell me he has nothing to do with this," Ginny said. "Please tell me."

"The link would have been unsuccessful if he wasn't truly your protector. Opening your minds to each other was a necessary step in—"

"Why would you do something like that? Do you have any idea the kind of trouble you've caused?"

Mórrígan turned to face the girl. Her voice was silky smooth, but carried more than a hint of warning. "I believe that, upon our first meeting, I told you to never take that tone with me again."

Ginny neither apologized nor looked away from the goddess's eyes. "What's wrong with him?" she asked. "Ever since that day he's been acting strangely."

Mórrígan raised an eyebrow. "He's in love. I'm given to understand that people do strange things when they're in love."

"You know that's not what I'm talking about," Ginny said. "He suddenly thinks that he can tell me what to do. He's more than just protective, he's possessive and he can't control it. He's bleeding into me, Mórrígan, and I don't know how to make it stop." Her words betrayed her desperation; it was the first time she had ever addressed the goddess by name.

"It's a natural reaction," the goddess said. "He's going to have trouble controlling his protectiveness, at least until he gets used to it. But then, that's why he's there. It's why he was born, Virginia. You can't take it away from him."

Mórrígan held out her hand. A vial full of clear liquid appeared a few inches above her palm and dropped into her grasp. She closed her fingers around it and held it out to Ginny. "This should help for now," she said. "Each of you drink half. It will contain the link until the two of you learn to control it. No more of this bleeding into each other. It sounds most unpleasant."

Ginny extended her palm, and the goddess dropped the vial onto it. "Do you have any idea how rude it is to just invade someone's dreams without their permission?" Ginny asked.

The goddess laughed. It was not a nice sound. "My goodness, Virginia. Aren't we the little hypocrite today?"

Ginny's eyes flew open. In her right hand, she clutched a glass vial full of clear liquid.

* * * * *

Dumbledore fixed Harry with a gaze so intent, Harry wondered if the Headmaster was trying to read his thoughts. "Have you left anything out?" Dumbledore asked. "The telepathy, the sudden uncontrollable protective urges you're feeling, her misadventure in the lake last night—is there anything else?"

Harry shook his head. "No. That's all that I know of."

"All right," Dumbledore said. "That's all the information I require, Harry. Thank you very much for coming to me with this."

"Sir, what's going on? Is Ginny in danger?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Yes, she is. Very grave, immediate danger. I need you to promise that you'll keep a close eye on her. Not that you'll be able to do otherwise. Come to me immediately if there are any more unusual occurrences."

"What's going on? Why is Voldemort looking for her?"

Dumbledore hesitated. "It would be best if Ginny is here herself when I tell you. Please bring her to my office tomorrow evening."

"She has a Care of Magical Creatures night lab," Harry answered. "We'll come after."

Dumbledore nodded. "That will be fine. Thank you, Harry."

Harry nodded, and left the tower with more questions than he had when he entered it.

* * * * *

The next morning, Ginny woke to the sound of Ria dropping something very heavy and then cursing a blue streak. Ginny still clutched the glass vial. She sat up, and noticed a package wrapped in brown paper sitting at the foot of her bed. Curious, Ginny picked it up and saw that the tag had her name on it. On the back in neat penmanship that she didn't recognize, it said, "Wear it in good health, and don't let them drag you down."

Curious, she tore the paper off of the gift. She stifled a gasp as she saw what it was: the green velvet dress that she had admired in Gladrags. "Who would spend this much money on me?" she whispered, astonished. She picked up the tag again and scrutinized it, reached under her pillow for her wand, and whispered, "Identifico." The only thing the spell gave her was the smell of a summer breeze whispering through pines.

"I don't believe this. I bloody well don't believe this." She flung her bed curtains aside and jumped to her feet. Ria was the only one in the room. Ginny thrust the dress at her. "Look at this, Ria!"

"What?" Her roommate was still sleepy.

"This dress."

"Ginny, I appreciate it but you know I don't really go in for that kind of thing."

"It's not for you! It was left on my bed this morning."

"It's nice," she said.

"It's three hundred Galleons worth of nice." Ginny began to pace. "I admired it in the shop."

"Who's it from?" Ria asked.

"Bloody Harry, that's who. I told him that—"

"Gin, it couldn't be from Harry. He didn't go to Hogsmeade yesterday."

"He didn't? How do you know?"

"Because I spent the entire day wiping the Quidditch pitch with him. Trust me, he didn't buy you that dress."

"If he didn't, who did?" Ginny asked.

Ria picked up the brown wrapping and read the note. "I don't know, but I suggest you wear it in good health. And keep it away from Gwen and Shannon, or they'll be after you to borrow it."

* * * * *

The night was cold and starry. The sixth year Care of Magical Creatures class stood in a circle on the lawn near Hagrid's cabin. He had a several small cages with him, each one containing a wicked looking little fairy covered with black hair. "Now, the thing about Doxies is that yeh don' know what they'll eat. Every batch is differen'. I had you all come out tonight because we're goin' to try these ones on glowworms." He held up a container full of squirming, luminescent worms. "We'll see how they like 'em. Careful of the fangs. Nasty biters, Doxies are."

Ginny and Ria looked askance at the writhing glowworms. "I'm not touching them," Ria said. "You do it."

Ginny picked up one of the slimy, squiggly bugs and stuck it between the bars of the cage. Instead of biting into the worm, the Doxy sank her fangs into the pad of Ginny's index finger. "Ow!" Ginny cried, pulling her hand back.

"Are you okay?" Ria turned to get Hagrid's attention. Doxies' fangs were venomous.

Ginny looked at her finger, and squeezed the injury to see if the fairy had broken the skin. Blood welled from the puncture wounds. Ginny almost had heart failure. She stared at her blood for one moment, then two, and then sucked in a strangled gasp. She fisted her hand and stuck it in her pocket.

"Here, Ginny? All right?" Hagrid asked.

"It bit me," she choked out. "I have to get to the hospital wing."

"Doxy venom isn't too strong. Ria'll go with yeh', just in case."

"No." Ginny backed away from him. "No, she won't. I'll go alone." Ginny turned and ran for all she was worth, never taking her fist out of her pocket.