The Rebirth

Chapter 6

The Prophecy

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 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.

* * * * *

Ginny flew up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower, gasped out the password, and scrambled through the portrait hole. She threw herself on the floor in front of the fireplace and gulped several deep breaths in a vain attempt to calm herself. The run and the fact that she couldn't stop hyperventilating made her feel light-headed. Her heart pounded so hard she thought it might jump out of her chest. Warily, Ginny pulled her fist from her pocket and uncurled her fingers, praying that she had been mistaken, that it had been a trick of the light, anything. Her heart plummeted. She thought she might be sick. It had not been a mistake; there might not be anything wrong with her vision, but there was obviously something very wrong with her.

An avalanche of footsteps echoed down the stairs from the dorms. Ginny clenched her fist as the first year class converged on the common room, telescopes in hand. Ginny sighed in relief. Of course. It was Monday, which meant that they had their midnight Astronomy lesson. None of the students paid her any mind as they wandered out of the portrait hole, some of them talking and laughing, some lagging behind sleepily. Once again, the common room was empty.

Slowly and deliberately, Ginny grabbed a pinch of the green powder from the dish on the mantel and threw it into the fire. Usually it was only used by homesick first years, but this was most definitely an emergency. "Molly Weasley," Ginny ordered.

With a pop, her mother's head appeared in the flames and fired off several frantic questions in a row. "Ginny, what's wrong? Are you all right? Has something happened to Ron or Harry?"

"No, mum. We're all...fine. I need to ask you a question." Ginny had no idea how she was going to ask said question, but she was going to give it her most valiant effort.

Molly spluttered, "You what? Do you have any idea what time it is? And you called because you have a question? I thought you or Ron...that You-Know-Who...really, Ginny, you're supposed to be the responsible one at that school. I have half a mind to send you a Howler that--"

"No, mum, please! It's important. Please just--"

"All right," Molly sniffed indignantly. "Ask. Then I can get back to bed."

She desperately wanted to tell her mother to go back to bed, that the question was one that didn't need to be asked. But Ginny needed to know, so she plunged ahead. "Do you remember me ever getting hurt when I was little? Skinned knees, paper cuts, broom accidents, anything at all?"

"Of course," Molly said. "All children are injured at one time or another, Ginny."

"Can you remember a particular instance?" she demanded. "Tell me a specific story about a time I hurt myself badly enough to bleed. That's what I need to know."

Molly thought for a moment. "You weren't an accident prone child, compared to your brothers."

"Just one injury, mum. That's all."

"I can't remember any specific occasions..."

Ginny's heart seized in her chest. "Do you think that's because there weren't any?" she asked in a hoarse whisper.

"Don't be silly. All children have accidents. Just because I can't remember any off the top of my head...Why do you need to know so badly?"

"Um," Ginny thought frantically, "It's for homework."

The creases of irritation on Molly's face deepened into a look of severe annoyance. Her voice was sharp when she said, "Left it a bit late, didn't you? Honestly, Ginny, it's the middle of the night! Bill and Percy never did their assignments the night before. And waking me because of your poor time management skills...making me think You-Know-Who had--"

"Thanks, mum," Ginny said dully. "You've been a big help." She waved her wand and her mother vanished from the fire.

When the grandfather clock began to chime, Ginny made a collected effort to pull her mind back together. Nothing was ever solved by panicking, after all. Calm, clear thoughts were needed now. Directed reasoning focused on...oh God! What was she going to do? Ginny's brain just...stopped. She was completely paralyzed with shock, and no matter how she prodded herself, her thoughts kept returning to her hand, by now slick with blood from the untreated bite. Her hand, her blood...it wasn't possible.

Ginny didn't know how long she sat on the floor like a stunned zombie, but she was finally shaken out of her stupor by a loud caw at the window. Ginny jerked her head toward the sound. Sure enough, a large black crow sat on the windowsill. She darted across the room and hurled the casement open; cold air gusted into her face and tossed her hair. "What!" she demanded of the bird. It tilted its head and looked at her quizzically. "What! Haven't I given you plenty already? Isn't it enough that you're always there when I sleep? Is that somehow inadequate for you, that you need to follow me around when I'm awake?"

The crow cawed again, and turned its head to peer at her through one beady eye. It occurred to Ginny how very odd she would seem, standing at the window yelling at a bird, to anyone who happened to come downstairs. A hysterical giggle bubbled from her lips. That was what she was worried about people seeing? The crow was concerned at her laughter; it sensed the panic that Ginny was just barely holding in check.

She held her hand to the bird's face. "Look at this!" The blood trickled down her finger; her palm was smeared with it from when she had made a fist. Ginny's lower lip trembled, but she maintained a cold grip on her fear and did not cry. "What's going on?" She forced her voice not to shake. "I have to know, now. I'm not going to play your sadistic guessing game anymore. I just won't do it."

The crow eyed Ginny's blood-smeared hand and then inclined its head once. It stretched its neck up, slid its beak under the chain around Ginny's neck, and lifted the ring from beneath her collar. She eyed the shimmering clearness of the diamond, sliced in two by the shadow of the window frame. Half of the ring reflected the golden firelight of the common room and the red shimmer from the upholstery and tapestries. The other half was bathed in the darkness of the night, illuminated only by the cold light of the November moon. The ring glistened silver and gold, warm and cool.

Ginny raised her eyes back to the crow and snatched the ring from its beak. Its lumpy shape made a strange impression against her palm; the ring was slightly warm from resting against her skin and the blood on her hand made it slippery. Suddenly, the ring flared. Silver-hot light streaked between her fingers, so bright it seemed solid. Ginny couldn't let go; she could only fall to her knees as a dam inside of her burst and an uncontrollable power flooded her veins. It burned through her bones, consuming her skin and her muscles and her mind with its white-hot flame.

* * * * *

Harry drowsed on his bed, the curtains drawn. He was waiting for Ginny's class to return from their lab, but he couldn't help dropping off; it had been a difficult couple of days. His Divination textbook dropped to the blanket as he gave up the battle to keep his eyes open.

A series of insistent taps woke Harry from his nap. He blinked sleepily, and heard the tapping again. Something was knocking against the dorm window. Harry pushed his glasses further up his nose and opened his bed curtains. When he set his feet on the floor and stood, the taps sped up, beating a frantic rhythm against the glass.

Harry padded over to the window and peered out curiously. The tapping ceased. Frowning, Harry pushed the glass open and leaned out. There was nobody there, and nothing that could have made the sound he had heard. Suddenly, right next to his ear, a crow gave an ear-splitting caw. Harry shouted in surprise and banged his head against the window when he jerked away from the noise.

"Ow!" He frowned at the bird. It didn't have any pouch or letter tied to its ankle, so it wasn't delivering him any kind of mail. "What do you want?"

The bird cawed again, and then took off. It quickly disappeared against the black sky. Harry was confused; had the crow wanted to wake him up? He pulled the window closed and rubbed his head where he had hit it. He turned back to his bed, and got exactly two steps before a blinding fire exploded through his body. It was strangely different from any kind of pain Harry had felt before, as though it wasn't quite real, as though it was all in his mind. The burning sensation quickly peaked, and then faded just as rapidly. As it lessened, a voice cried in Harry's head. It's not you. A woman's voice, wild and cold, the sound of splintered nightmares. It's not you, she said again. It's an echo of her. Go downstairs!

The voice urged with an Otherworldly force. Harry was immediately spurred into action; he jerked open the door to his dorm and took the stairs to the common room two at a time.

What he saw when he reached the bottom was a sight that would be burned in his mind forever. Ginny sat on the floor, leaning against the wall beneath the window. Her eyes were half closed and gazed straight ahead with a dazed, unfocused expression of pain mixed with shock. Her chest rose and fell with rapid, shallow breaths and with a death grip she clutched a charm that hung around her neck. Ginny was glowing. A faint silver light seeped from her skin, forming an ethereal shimmering aura that surrounded her body. The room was filled with power, oppressive in its strength, but it parted when Harry shook off his astonishment and raced across the room.

"What happened?" he demanded.

Ginny blinked a few times, and lifted her eyes to his. Harry didn't think she was seeing him, but then her eyes focused slightly and she croaked, "It hurts."

Harry instinctively reached out to comfort her, but froze just before his hand came in contact with her skin. He clenched his fingers into a fist and withdrew his arm; no matter how badly he wanted to, it wouldn't be wise to touch her until he knew what had put her in so much pain that he felt it through their link. "Ginny, what happened to you?" he asked again.

She swallowed convulsively and then said, "My hand. I hurt...my hand."

Harry cast caution to the wind and took the hand that clutched her necklace. Her skin was ice cold to the touch. Finger by finger, Harry gently loosened her grip and then opened her palm to his gaze. He couldn't stifle the low, horrified cry at what he saw. The only time he had ever seen blood that color before was in his first year--the Forbidden Forest, Voldemort, Malfoy, a slain unicorn--it all flooded back to him as he looked at the glistening silver shimmer that coated her hand and the ring she wore around her neck. "Ginny," his voice was strained and urgent, "how did you get unicorn blood on your hand?"

She looked more rational with every passing moment. The pain was passing, and the light that leaked from her skin began to fade. "My finger," she breathed.

Harry saw that most of the blood was concentrated on her index finger. He probed the spot and gasped when the silver blood welled from a pair of twin puncture wounds. It was coming from her. He raised his eyes to Ginny's. The light had almost completely faded from her skin, and her eyes were once again lucid. "Ginny," he said.

She fisted her hand. "It's nothing, Harry." She desperately wanted to believe it was true.

"This is not nothing. How long...how long has your blood been silver?"

She laughed humorlessly. "I wouldn't know, since this is the first time I've ever seen any of it."

"That's impossible."

"Obviously not."

His lips tightened. "We have to tell Dumbledore."

* * * * *

Harry dragged Ginny through the halls of Hogwarts. His legs were so long that she had to jog to keep up. He clutched her left hand tightly; with every step, his thoughts grew more frantic. Dumbledore had told him just the night before that she was in terrible danger from Voldemort. And now she had been attacked--Harry refused to consider that he might lose her to Dark Wizards, just as he had lost his parents. It couldn't happen, not as long as he had breath. He was especially shaken by the fact that he had found her in the common room. Hogwarts was supposed to be the safest place in Britain, but somehow the school had been infiltrated and Ginny had been hurt.

Harry held his wand at the ready and checked around every corner between the tower and Dumbledore's office, only pulling Ginny along when he was sure the hallways were deserted. She followed with minimal argument, although he knew that under normal circumstances she would never have gone without complaint. Although she appeared calm she was tremendously shaken.

The pair rounded a corner just as the gargoyle statue that guarded the entrance to Dumbledore's office slid aside. The Headmaster stepped into the hall and turned to them; as before, he held the Marauders' Map in his hand. Dumbledore immediately saw that Harry hadn't merely brought Ginny to have a conversation; something had happened. Something big enough to frighten two of the most outwardly unflappable students at the school. They rushed up to him and Harry gasped out, "Professor, Ginny's hand, that is, her finger, it's--"

"Not here, Harry," Dumbledore cut in. "Come upstairs."

Dumbledore ushered the pair through the door ahead of him and the trio rode the spiral staircase to the Headmaster's office. Harry still hadn't released Ginny's hand, and based on how tightly he held it, he wasn't likely to let go in the near future. Harry tapped his foot against the wooden stair, adjusted his robes and glasses, and otherwise fidgeted relentlessly. Ginny stood next to him, silent and still as a statue. Dumbledore noticed that her right hand was wrapped in black fabric. Frowning in puzzlement, his eyes fell on the bottom of Harry's school robes. The once neatly sewn hem had been replaced by torn, frayed threads. The Headmaster raised his eyebrows in surprise; if Harry's impromptu first aid was any indication, then he had a fairly good idea about what had unnerved them so.

Once inside the office, Dumbledore motioned for his students to take the chairs that faced his desk. They sat; Ginny's face was impassive, Harry's impatient. Dumbledore thought the only part of Harry that wasn't in motion was his right hand, and then only because his fingers were still entwined with Ginny's. With a wave of his wand, he conjured up a tea service for three and a plate of chocolates and motioned for the students to help themselves. To break the ice, he indicated Ginny's makeshift bandage and asked, "What happened?"

She regarded him silently for a moment and then her eyes slid away from his and she spoke for the first time. "Harry, I'm going to need my hand back."

"What?" Harry asked, not expecting her question.

"My hand," she repeated. "I need it to drink the tea."

"Oh." He flushed. "Oh, right." He dropped her hand and began drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. Ginny poured herself a cup of tea and took a sip.

"Good?" Dumbledore asked.

She nodded. "Yes, thank you." Her face was still calm, but Dumbledore detected a tension in her expression and posture that lent her an air of urgency. He knew this wasn't going to be easy.

"He asked about your hand," Harry burst out. "Show him your hand, Gin."

She took another sip of tea and then slowly set her cup on the edge of the desk. "I'd rather not."

Dumbledore looked at her over the top of his half-moon glasses. "Ginny," he said, "What happened this evening?"

She met his gaze straight on. Behind her calm front, he could sense desperation. "I was bitten by a Doxy at my night lab."

This was like pulling teeth. "Why did Harry tear off the bottom of his robes to bandage it?"

"Because it was bleeding."

Dumbledore asked, "Why didn't you go to the Hospital Wing, then? I'm sure Madame Pomfrey's bandages are much more hygienic."

She shrugged in response.

Harry made an aggravated noise and burst out, "Her blood isn't red, Professor! She's under some kind of spell, or--"

Ginny's eyes narrowed slightly, but other than that she exhibited no reaction to Harry's declaration.

"Is this true, Ginny?" Dumbledore asked. He felt adrenaline rush through his system; finally, after all these years, had he finally found the one he had been waiting for?

Again, she shrugged.

He eyed her for a moment and then, in a quiet, urgent voice, asked, "Is it silver?" Her eyes widened, and Dumbledore sighed in relief. His instincts had been correct, and the search was over.

"How did you guess?" she demanded.

He paused. Her entire world was about to change, and not for the better. He chose his words carefully. "There's something you have to know, Ginny. It's not going to be easy to hear, but it's time for you to learn who you are." At this, Harry sat up very straight, his gaze flicking back and forth between Dumbledore and Ginny.

Ginny's eyes were wary. "I'm not sure I understand what you mean. I'm Ginny Weasley. That's who I am."

"That's true," Dumbledore said. "But there's a lot that you don't know." He rested his fingertips against each other and looked at her for a moment. "Ginny, have you ever heard of the Pendragon prophecy?"

She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. "I think so, in History of Magic." She blushed. "But, um, I'm afraid I don't..."

"It's all right," Dumbledore reassured gently. "I daresay you had other things on your mind that day. Do you at least remember the premise?"

"King Arthur was the last Pendragon," she said slowly. "And when they took him to Avalon after he had been wounded in battle, there was a prophecy that in his people's darkest hour, the Pendragon would return and save them."

Dumbledore nodded. "That's almost entirely correct."

"Is it?"

"You see," Dumbledore chose his words very carefully, "the Pendragon isn't a specific person, so much as a manifestation of power. The prophecy wasn't that King Arthur himself would return; he's quite dead, I'm afraid. But the power of the Pendragon would return, in the charge of someone who is destined to protect us in our most desperate, dangerous time."

"All right," she said slowly. "What does this have to do with anything?"

Dumbledore took a sip of his tea. "I read the signs years ago. I remember it like yesterday--the dreams, the shifts of power along the magical plane...the power has been reborn, and I believe the Pendragon will be the one to finally defeat Voldemort forever."

Ginny was no longer looking at Dumbledore. She had turned to Harry with an expression of awe, concern, and not a little bit of pity. Dumbledore kept talking, and waited for the truth to dawn on her. "According to the prophecy, the Pendragon possesses many powers beyond those of normal wizards and witches. She can--"

Ginny gave him a sharp look. "She?"

"Yes," he said. "She can--"

"She? But then," Ginny glanced at Harry. "But then he's not--"

"No," Dumbledore said quietly. "No, he's not. You are."

Ginny shook her head. "That's impossible. I've never...it's just impossible."

"The prophecy is clear on the point that the next Pendragon will be female. King Arthur's reign brought Christianity to this island, and the gods of the old faith were forgotten by all but a loyal few. Needless to say, they didn't want that debacle repeated. And there is a substantial amount of evidence that you are, in fact, the one from the prophecy."

"What kind of evidence?" she demanded.

"Well, there is the matter of your silver blood--the mark of the Pendragon. Also, you were born on the most sacred calendar feast in a year marked by radical redistributions of power, not to mention prophetic dreams on the part of the entire British wizarding population. And then, just three months ago, you disappeared into a sacred pond on the night of another calendar feast."

"How did you know about that?" Mórrígan was going to kill her.

"Your father sent me an owl that very same night. He believed that you had no memory of where you went, but I don't."

Ginny gave him an incredulous look. "Are you saying I'm a liar?"

"You were in the Otherworld, weren't you." It wasn't a question. "Some deity or other, perhaps Macha or the Mórrígan--" Ginny flinched and Dumbledore nodded. "It was the Mórrígan then? And the night of the ball?"

Ginny looked at Harry, betrayed. "You told him about that?"

Harry stared at her as though he'd never quite seen her before. "I said I would." Harry had listened to the exchange between the Headmaster and Ginny with growing astonishment. She was right, it didn't seem possible. But if Dumbledore's words were true, then saving Britain from Voldemort was no longer his responsibility. Harry had never felt so relieved in his life. Mixed with that relief, however, was fear for Ginny's welfare. Being the Pendragon was surely dangerous. "This obviously isn't something you can handle by yourself, Gin."

"Harry is correct," Dumbledore said. "For this reason, the prophecy also mentions two protectors--"

Ginny knocked her cup off the desk. It fell to the floor of the office, the tea spreading across the carpet in a dark, splattered stain. "Oh!" Ginny exclaimed. "I'm sorry! I only...what was that about two protectors?"

"It's quite all right," Dumbledore said. The spill was gone with a wave of his wand and he poured her a new cup of tea. She clutched it in both hands.

"As I said, the Pendragon is to have two protectors. The prophecy states that they'll both be male, and they'll be--"

Ginny spoke slowly, fighting her growing nausea. "The two people who would protect her to the death, no matter what the circumstances." The words Mórrígan had said to her just the other day.

Dumbledore was surprised. "That's exactly what it says. You've read it then?"

Her eyes were fixed firmly on the floor as she shook her head. "Somebody told me."

Dumbledore nodded. "And, Harry, that is why I wanted you to be present when I told Ginny all of this."

Harry already knew, on some instinctive level, what the Headmaster was going to say to him. "I'm one of them, aren't I?"

Ginny raised her gaze to Dumbledore. "How did you know? That he's a protector, I mean. I only just found out--" She stopped abruptly, aware that she had given herself away.

"You knew about this!" Harry exclaimed. "You knew and you didn't tell me?"

"Harry!" the Headmaster reprimanded. "This is not the time. I have known, Ginny, ever since Harry was born. Professor Trelawney predicted that the rebirth of the Pendragon was drawing near and that Harry would be one of her protectors." He looked very old, all of a sudden. "It's why Voldemort wanted, still wants, to kill you, Harry. With only one protector left, the Pendragon would be that much easier to control. With her power on his side, nothing could stand in his way."

"But Voldemort didn't kill me," Harry said. "So why didn't he go after the other protector? Why would he have left us both alive?"

Dumbledore hedged, "There are any number of reasons that could be. I don't know the identity of the second protector, so perhaps Voldemort doesn't either although intelligence I have received suggests otherwise. Or he could have made an unpublicized attempt on a child's life."

"Or the second protector is the son of a Death Eater," Ginny said tonelessly.

Dumbledore nodded. "That is also a very real possibility."

She shook her head. "It's a probability," she whispered. "Or else why would he keep going after Harry, who's so well protected, instead of taking on the one you don't know about?" This had to be some kind of bad dream. Things like this just didn't happen. Normal people didn't wake up one morning to have a cosmic destiny dumped on their heads.

"There has to be some mistake." Her expression was bleak. "I don't have any special powers. I've never done anything like that."

"Of course you haven't," Dumbledore said. "You haven't had any practice. All magical abilities need to be developed before they can be used. And your power hasn't even been awakened yet. According to the prophecy there is a ring, a powerful magical object that focuses the power of the Pendragon and channels it according to her wishes. Unfortunately it, along with several other objects relating to the Pendragon, has been lost through the centuries. Until this ring is found--"

"Ginny has a ring on a chain around her neck," Harry spoke up. Ginny glared at him.

Dumbledore started. "Really? May I see?"

Ginny froze. She remembered the first time she met Mórrígan, when the goddess had given her the ring and told her to wear it, but not show it to anyone. Sod Mórrígan, she said to herself. What has she ever done for me? Harry jumped, and gave Ginny an odd look. Ginny realized with embarrassment that he heard her through their link. She grabbed the chain of her necklace and pulled the diamond ring out from under her robes. It was clear in most spots, but some of it was smeared with silver. It glittered in the candlelight.

"She was holding it when I came downstairs to the common room," Harry volunteered.

"Would you please not talk about her like she isn't sitting right next to you?" Ginny said, annoyed.

Harry was immediately contrite. "Sorry, Gin." Then, through the link, he said I know this isn't easy, but he has to know.

Dumbledore, meanwhile, had leaned across his desk and was examining the ring closely, but without touching it. "How did you find this? It's been lost for nearly a millenium; I've been searching for decades. This is your blood, then?" he asked, indicating the stains on the ring.

She scowled. "Mórrígan tricked me into holding it while my hand was bleeding."

The Headmaster looked up. "She was here?"

"In the common room. She was a crow that--"

"A crow?" Harry cut in. "I was asleep and a crow woke me up. And then a voice spoke in my head..." he trailed off, growing more uneasy by the moment as he recalled what had happened. Ginny's mouth tightened around the corners, but she didn't comment on Harry's statement. "Professor, when I found her, she was glowing. I thought maybe she had been attacked--" Ginny cleared her throat pointedly, and Harry flushed. "Sorry again."

"You weren't attacked, Ginny," Dumbledore reassured. "But apparently the power has been awakened. This is excellent. You can begin practice with it immediately."

"Power to do what, exactly?" she asked.

Dumbledore made an expansive gesture with his hands. "Well, as to that, the prophecy requires some interpretation."

"Power to do what, exactly?" Ginny repeated.

Dumbledore recited the words he had read often enough to know by heart. "The Pendragon has the power to restore balance to the wizarding world. It is why it was so important to shield Harry from Voldemort. With only one protector alive, the balance would have been disrupted. She is the connection between this world and the Otherworld, the bridge between the old ways and the new. According to the prophecy, nothing is hidden from her eyes. She is the embodiment of the old Power, reborn in a new time. Ginny, I know how hard this must be for you to hear--"

"What does all of that mean?" she interrupted. "I don't understand."

"I don't know," he replied. "I don't suppose we'll learn what kind of powers you have until you start manifesting them. Wandless magic is sure to be one of them, but beyond that," he spread his hands, "I'm as lost as you are."

"I doubt that very much," she said. "And I think you're wrong. I can't be this person you've been waiting for. I'm so sorry, sir, because you've been waiting for such a long time, but it just isn't true. You'll need to find someone else."

"There is no one else," he said. "Tonight you bought the power with your blood. It's been unleashed, and it's inside of you. Now you have a responsibility to yourself, and to the wizarding world, to learn to use it."

"I didn't choose this!" Ginny exclaimed, suddenly very angry.

"No," he answered solemnly, "you didn't. But that doesn't mean you don't still have choices. You can choose to accept your power and the responsibility that comes with it, or you can choose to fight your destiny."

Ginny sat silently, her head down. Harry reached over, threaded his fingers through hers, and squeezed. She squeezed back, and didn't let go. Her thoughts were all jumbled together, and she didn't know what was going to happen or when, only that she was afraid. But knowing that she and Harry were in this together was some small comfort, at least.

"The two of you will have to learn to control your link. I understand it gave you trouble yesterday morning, but it is vital that you be able to communicate at all times. No doubt once you've had some practice with it the strong feelings the link inspires will decrease."

Ginny glared at Harry, but didn't release his hand. Exactly how much did you tell?

He met her eyes without a trace of guilt. Everything. And I'd do it again. Gin, I can't believe you didn't tell me about any of this.

"What about the second protector?" she asked.

"No doubt he will reveal himself in time," Dumbledore replied. "I would ask you to not go looking for him. I don't want to risk your identity being revealed to Voldemort before it's tactically advantageous to do so. Waiting for the right moment could be crucial to the cause, so the fact that you're the Pendragon is not to go beyond this room."

Ginny looked at Harry, and then turned back to the Headmaster. "But my family--"

"Not even your family can know, Ginny. It is best for everyone involved that it remain an absolute secret."

Ginny didn't know how she would deal with something of this magnitude without the support of her family. They were all very close, and she knew it would kill her to hide something like this from them. "You're asking rather a lot, aren't you?" she said to Dumbledore. Harry squeezed her hand in warning, but she plunged ahead. "You bring me up here, pour me a cup of tea, tell me that I now officially have no choice in the direction my life is going to take, and in the same breath tell me I have to keep it a secret from my family and friends."

Dumbledore looked slightly unsettled, but not surprised. He had hoped she would have taken it better than this, but it was rather a lot to assimilate in such a short span of time and he wasn't especially shocked that she reacted with anger. "Voldemort is gaining strength with every passing day," he said sternly. "Believe me, I'd love to allow you to tell your family and give you all the time you need to adjust, but I don't have that luxury. There are more important things at stake."

Ginny didn't reply. She sank back into the chair, and stared at the floor. The trio sat in silence for a moment, and then Dumbledore said, "This has been difficult for both of you. Perhaps you should return to your dormitory for the night. We can talk about the rest another day."

"There's more?" Harry asked, incredulous.

"Another day," Dumbledore said firmly. "You two need sleep."

Ginny snorted scornfully. Sleep? After the evening she just had? Not bloody likely.

* * * * *

Harry and Ginny walked down the hall silently, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Harry's reverie was disturbed when Ginny abruptly shook her hand out of his and stopped in her tracks, grabbing the wall for support. "Gin?" he asked. "Are you all right?"

She turned so that her back leaned against the wall and then slid to the floor, her knees drawn up against her chest. "This can't be real." She took a shaky breath. "It just can't be."

Harry looked down at Ginny for a moment, and then sat down next to her and leaned against the wall. "How long have you known?"

"As long as you have." Her fingers plucked at the threads of the carpet.

"But when Dumbledore said that I'm a protector you told him you already knew. How long?"

"That part? Just since yesterday." She could feel him looking at her but refused to meet his eyes. Ginny reached into her pocket and withdrew the glass vial Mórrígan had given her. She had carried it around all day hoping that the proper moment would present itself, but now that it was here she was strangely reluctant to give him the potion.

She fiddled with the vial, rolling it back and forth between her palms, and whispered brokenly, "How can you even stand to be near me?"

"Sorry?" Harry said. He wasn't sure what he had expected her to say, but that certainly wasn't it.

"Your parents would still be alive if you weren't one of the protectors. Indirectly, it's because of me that--"

Harry cut her off by covering her hands with one of his. "Ginny, that's not true. This is no different from Cedric. You were only, what, two hours old when my parents died? They're gone because Voldemort killed them."

"But he killed them because of me." She still hadn't looked at him.

At that moment, Harry hated Voldemort for making her feel guilty for a crime that was in no way her fault. "No doubt he'd be thrilled to hear that you feel that way," he said, "but it's not true. Don't fall into the trap of blaming yourself for his actions because if you do, you'll never escape. I've been there the last two and a half years."

After a few moments of silence, Harry drew his hand back. Ginny went right back to fidgeting with the vial in her hands. Finally, she whispered, "I'm so sorry."

"Gin, I just said--"

"Not about your parents," she interrupted. "About...last night. You took me by surprise, and I was angry with you for it."

"I could tell," he said. "You weren't subtle, were you?"

"I'm sorry. The last thing I'd ever want to do is hurt you."

"You didn't," he said gently. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I didn't?" she repeated. "But all those things I said!"

Harry slid his arm around her shoulders. "Were they really so awful?" he asked. "You said that you're not ready to be with me yet because a relationship between us would require you to commit yourself completely. I couldn't be happier, really, because this means that when we finally are together--"

"If," she interrupted.

"When," he insisted. "When we finally are together you'll be willing to share your life with me in every way. I won't settle for being just a school boyfriend, and if that's all you had wanted to give me then I would've been the one turning you down last night."

Ginny didn't quite know what to say after that remarkable declaration, so she remained silent. After a moment Harry asked, "What's in the vial?"

It was now or never. "A potion," she said. "Mórrígan gave it to me. She said we should each drink half, and it would contain our link until we figure out how to control it."

"It sounds wonderful." Harry couldn't hide the relief in his voice. He would return to his usual self, fully in control of his emotions.

"Yeah." Ginny's voice was utterly unenthusiastic.

"Well?" Harry prompted. "Shall we?"

Ginny hesitated a moment more, and then removed the stopper and gulped down half of the potion. It had no flavor. Her hand shook a bit as she passed the container to Harry, who drained it. The piece of Harry that she carried within her, the part that connected them, began to separate from the rest of her being. She could actually feel the Otherworldly magic in the potion blockade the link off from the rest of her soul. Ginny knew she could get around the block if she desired, but when not in use the link would remain dormant.

Beside her, Harry breathed a sigh of relief and rested his head back against the wall. Ginny returned to picking at the carpet threads. "I understand if..." she started, and then paused and began again. "I understand if you want to take back anything you said just now, or last night."

Harry glanced over at her. For the first time since they sat, Ginny met his eyes. She looked miserable. "Why would I want to do that?" he asked.

"Because it wasn't real," she answered. "The link...created feelings that weren't really there. I understand and you're in no way required to stand by all the things you told me."

"Wait. Start over. The link did what?"

"Dumbledore said that the strong feelings inspired by the link would decrease once we had it under control. It's okay, Harry." By the look on her face, it definitely was not okay. "It was just the magic that made you think that we, I mean, that you..." she trailed off and turned her full attention back to the carpet threads.

"No," Harry said. "It's nothing like that. I meant everything I said yesterday."

"I know," Ginny answered quietly. "But if you don't mean it anymore, that's all right."

"Gin, I started feeling this way about you long before the link was opened up." She looked at him out of the corner of her eye and he continued, "Granted, it probably sped things up a bit, but we would've come to this point eventually anyway. My feelings for you are the same, although my feelings toward Fletcher certainly aren't."

"Mike?" Ginny asked. "Why? What's different about Mike?"

"Well," Harry said with a rueful smile, "I don't want to break his nose anymore."

Ginny couldn't stifle a giggle. "No doubt he'll be happy to hear that."

The anxiety that had twisted her stomach just a few moments ago was alleviated when Harry pressed a kiss to her temple. "My heart isn't going to change," he murmured against her hair. Harry wanted to shout with joy. She had been unhappy at the thought that his love wasn't real. This was definitely an encouraging sign. He contained his delight, though. This wasn't the time. "Is there anything you need? Anything I can do for you?"

She leaned against him for a moment, and then pulled away. "I need to be alone for a bit. I have to think," she said.

"Okay." He stood, and held out a hand to help her to her feet. "This will probably help, if you're not going back to Gryffindor right away." He pulled out a bit of old parchment.

She turned it over. It was the Marauders' Map. "How did you get this?"

"I pocketed it when you spilled your tea," he said. "It's really mine, isn't it? Since my father made it."

"Thanks." She was touched. "I'll return it tomorrow."

He nodded. They faced each other awkwardly, neither one knowing how to end the conversation. Finally, Harry cleared his throat and said, "If you ever need me, you only have to ask."

"I know," Ginny answered.

"I'll see you in the morning."

She gave him a tentative smile, and he smiled back, turned, and left in the direction of Gryffindor tower.

* * * * *

Ginny wandered aimlessly around the school for about half an hour, carefully avoiding the dots on the map that read "Argus Filch," "Mrs. Norris," and "Severus Snape," all three of whom were prowling the halls. She wondered when they ever had time to sleep, and figured that explained why Filch and Snape were always so belligerent during the day.

After a bit, she found herself down the Charms corridor. On an impulse, Ginny opened the door to Professor Flitwick's classroom and stole inside. The moon illuminated the room with a robust glow, but Ginny still pulled out a wand and lit a single candle. If she really was the Pendragon, then she should be able to do wandless magic. Dumbledore had said so. And if she couldn't, well, then there must have been some kind of mistake.

Ginny rifled through the cabinet until she found what she was looking for: the bag of feathers the first years used to practice levitation charms. Starting small was her best bet. She probably wouldn't be able to transfigure a hedgehog into a pincushion on her first try.

Ginny moved the candle and the feather to a desk against the far wall. She didn't want anyone to spot the light from under the door. She placed the feather on the desk and thought to herself, Wingardium Leviosa. It didn't budge. She frowned at it, and then tried again. Still nothing.

Ginny decided to try the charm with her wand, just to make sure she knew how it went. She whispered the magic words and in the blink of an eye the feather was dancing in the air. Well, all right. At least she remembered how to do it properly. But how to perform the spell without a wand?

Ginny thought hard. It seemed an awfully big leap to her, to go from doing a charm with the help of a wand and magic words to doing it without any magical aids at all. Perhaps it would be easier if she removed the external magical elements by increments until she was performing the spell all by herself. First thing to go: the wand.

Ginny set her wand down on the floor and eyed the feather. "Wingardium Leviosa," she said. It sat motionless on the desk. Maybe she needed a step somewhere between wand and no wand. Ginny waved her hand over the feather and said the magic words again. Still nothing. Five tries later, though, she got the feather to stir a bit, and ten tries later she got it to hover a few inches over the desk. Ginny stared at her hand, which had taken on a faint silver sheen. The moment she shifted her concentration off of the feather, it dropped.

Ginny practiced with her hand until she got the feather to float around the room. It was exhausting work. Her brow was sweaty with concentration and she had a pounding headache, but she wasn't about to stop now. She was fully invested in the feather project, and she probably wouldn't even have noticed if Snape or Filch barged into the classroom.

When she was satisfied that she could do the charm with the words and a wave of her hand, Ginny decided to try it without the incantation. She waved her hand over the feather, and wasn't surprised when it didn't move. After an hour of practice, though, she finally made the feather tremble and lift an infinitesimal distance from the desk. This was definite progress.

Finally, Ginny felt she was ready to attempt the charm with nothing but her mind. She sat on her hands so she wouldn't be tempted to use them, and willed the feather to lift off the desk. Naturally, it didn't. But she didn't give up, and forty-five minutes later it was whizzing through the air. Ginny grinned in triumph, but her smile abruptly vanished when it dawned on her that she had just made something fly merely through the force of her mind. The feather dropped to the floor as she realized with horror that Dumbledore had been correct. She was the Pendragon.

* * * * *

Ginny found herself outside a city that was closed off by a wall of staggering height. She could hear the shouts and laughter of the people on the other side of the wall, but where she was standing there wasn't anyone in sight. She turned in a full circle, instinctively looking for Mórrígan. The goddess wasn't there. So Ginny waited. After a moment, a hand dropped on her shoulder. She looked at the long fingers encrusted with rubies that stood out against her black school robes, and turned. The Mórrígan stood behind her, seven feet tall, once again the warrior mother. Ginny took a step back and said, "I suppose you're expecting a thank you."

"I beg your pardon?" the goddess replied. "You refused to figure it out on your own, so I arranged for your protector to find you just as your power was unleashed. The old man explained it all, and you are no longer in the dark about your destiny. It would have been better if you had discovered it yourself, but what's done is done."

"I don't want a destiny," Ginny told her.

"What you want or don't want is irrelevant," Mórrígan snapped. "The fact is, you have one and it's your responsibility to see that it's fulfilled."

Ginny felt her self-control slip away. "I was happy until you showed up!" she shouted. "You've done nothing but torture and intimidate me for the past three months, and I won't have it anymore. Who gave you permission to interfere with my life?"

Mórrígan swung, and Ginny instinctively grabbed the goddess's wrist before her palm could strike Ginny's face. Their gazes clashed. Ginny's power shimmered. The goddess's wrist was cool against her hand. The fiery pain that had always before accompanied skin contact was not present now. Mórrígan's lips curved up in a half-smile. "Very good, Virginia," she said. "Fight me at every turn. It's the only thing that will make you strong."

Ginny jerked away and stumbled back. "It didn't hurt," she said, staring at her hand. "It should have hurt."

"You're going to have to control the power inside of you," Mórrígan said. "It won't do to have it leaking out every time you're angry."

"Why didn't I feel anything?" she demanded.

"Your power is of the Otherworld, even if you are not. I imagine it cushioned you against the pain that you would've felt even yesterday." She regarded Ginny for a moment and then said, "Come with me," and walked toward the city gate. Ginny followed.

Inside, the town was in the middle of market day. The people bartered and exchanged for the goods they needed and the clink of coins rang though the air. Ginny was acutely conscious of people's eyes turning their way as they cleared the city entrance. Although business transactions did not cease, everyone stared at Mórrígan and Ginny as they made their way through the crowd. Many removed their hats in a sign of respect. "You must not come here very often," Ginny said. "Some people are even bowing."

Mórrígan glanced over her shoulder and regarded Ginny with amusement. "They're not bowing to me, Virginia."

They stopped at the cart of a man who was selling medicines and Mórrígan selected a small container of salve. "For your hand," she said. Only then did Ginny remember that her right hand hadn't been fixed up after the Doxy bite, and was still bandaged with the bottom of Harry's robes. She pulled the fabric off and allowed the goddess to treat the puncture wounds. The injury vanished instantly upon contact with the Otherworldly potion. "It also neutralizes the venom," Mórrígan said.

Suddenly, the walled city vanished, and Ginny and Mórrígan stood alone in the middle of a forest; the trees so high Ginny couldn't even make out the leaf line. Ginny gasped and Mórrígan eyed her sternly. "You were unwilling to let your protector drink the potion I gave you."

Ginny hesitated, and then nodded reluctantly. "Why?" the goddess pressed. Ginny didn't reply and Mórrígan looked frustrated. "If you don't answer, I can always pull the information I seek out of your head, which will hurt you far more than it hurts me." Still Ginny didn't respond; her feelings for Harry were none of the goddess's business. Mórrígan's eyes took on an unpleasant light and a blinding pain exploded in Ginny's head. She felt the goddess rifle through her thoughts until she found what she was looking for. The pain suddenly ended.

"Why are you looking at me that way?" Mórrígan asked. "You knew I could read your mind if I so wished."

"You were more gentle about it last time. I didn't feel a thing."

The goddess laughed cruelly. "I was younger yesterday. I liked you better then." Her smile faded. "You didn't want to give him the potion because you were afraid. This fear can not continue."

"What fear?" Ginny asked. "I'm not afraid anymore. He drank the potion, and everything is fine."

"Still, you have fear within you. You're afraid of the future, of losing yourself to your destiny, and you're afraid of this Voldemort who conquers more of your world every day."

"Everyone feels that way sometimes."

"You can't afford the luxury of fear," Mórrígan said urgently. "If you're afraid, then you can be controlled and above all things, that must not happen."

"Not by anyone but you?" Ginny asked sarcastically.

"No," Mórrígan said. "Not even by me. You have made tremendous progress in that area. The first time we met you could barely look me in the eyes; you were so terrified. Yet outside the city today you physically prevented me from causing you harm. You no longer feel the fear for me that you once did, but you still fear much and that is unacceptable."

"I can't change the way I feel to please you."

Mórrígan did not respond to Ginny's statement. Instead, she said, "You have much work before you. You must not hesitate to do what is necessary. But now it is time for you to go back."

* * * * *

Ginny ran into Ancient Runes frantically adjusting her uniform. She'd thrown some clothes on in a rush this morning, not noticing if they were neat or proper, or even the right set of robes. Her hair hung in a damp ponytail beneath her lopsided hat; there hadn't been time to dry it. Ginny was sure Gwen would faint at the sight of her; Gwen wasn't one to let sloppy dressing slide, even if there was a good excuse. She was starved from having missed breakfast, had a cramp in her neck from falling asleep with her head on a desk in the Charms classroom, and was exhausted, both mentally and emotionally, from all of the turmoil of the past three days. Moreover, the wandless magic from the night before had drained every molecule of energy in her. All she wanted to do was sleep.

She was waylaid the moment she entered the room. "Where have you been?" Gwen demanded. With a glance, she took in Ginny's rumpled clothing and immediately set about fastening the clasps of her robes, which had hung open over Ginny's uniform.

"In the hospital wing," Ginny answered. "Why? Where did you think I was?"

"I had no idea. Ria told us you ran inside and didn't come back! Are you all right?"

"Madame Pomfrey wanted to make sure the Doxy anti-venom worked properly. She kept me for observation." Ginny had rehearsed this lie during her quick shower, so it came out smoothly.

"Why didn't you show up at breakfast?"

Ginny forced her mouth into a smile and slid into the desk between Gwen and Mike Fletcher. "Would you believe I overslept? By the time I got back to the dorm, you three were already gone." Gwen gave her a sympathetic look and rummaged through her bag for a quill.

"Morning, Ginny," Mike said. "Can I have some parchment? I forgot mine."

"You'd forget your head if it wasn't attached," Ginny said.

He laughed. "So your mum is always telling me. What about it? Do you have any extra?"

"Yeah." She slid her bag over to him. "Help yourself."

Losing points for a dress code violation was the last thing she needed right now, so Ginny did her best to knot her tie without the aid of a mirror. Mike rummaged through her satchel and pulled out a sheet of scrap. "This'll do. Oh, no, wait. It has writing on it." Mike paused as his eyes flicked over the short note and his smile faded slightly. He held it up to Ginny and raised his eyebrows. She groaned. It was Harry's note from two days ago, asking, no, telling her to meet him in the Astronomy Tower. "The truth is revealed," Mike said slyly. "This certainly explains why you're running behind this morning. Out late last night with Gryffindor's most eligible bachelor, were you?"

She snatched the note out of his hands and crumpled it up. Professor Montegue was late, as usual, so Ginny couldn't count on being saved by the start of class. "It wasn't any big thing," she muttered.

"Of course not," Mike said. "That would explain why your face is completely blush free. I'm sure your cheeks are usually the same color as your hair, so your current appearance is nothing out of the ordinary."

"Are you going to borrow a parchment or not?"

He pulled a sheet out of her bag. "The Astronomy Tower, Gin? Really, I'm disappointed. It's just so...usual. Do you two go there often?"

"No, just the one time."

"What did he want?"

She looked at Mike with a mischievous grin. "What do you think he wanted?"

"I think you should forget I asked. The answer would probably make my head explode."

"He wanted to tell me that you're nothing but trouble."

Mike laughed loudly, and a Hufflepuff in the front row turned to look, then rolled her eyes and went back to whispering with her friends. "Really?" Mike asked. He sounded thrilled.

"No," Ginny answered, "but I had you going for a minute."

He opened his mouth to reply, but Professor Montegue swept into the room and announced, "Close your books, class. Pop quiz today." Ginny never found out what Mike was going to say.

* * * * *

After a full morning of classes, the lunch bell finally rang. Mike ran out of the Transfiguration classroom and headed straight for the library. There was a book he needed for Divination homework that night, and he wanted to check it out before he ate.

As Mike entered the library, he scanned the rows of shelves. Hogwarts was without any kind of organized filing system, a fact that was the bane of his existence. Life would be so much easier if Madame Pince would only keep a card catalogue like the muggles did. He knew the general area of the volume, at least, so he headed off to the corner where most of the titles on predicting the future were shelved.

Mike rounded the far end of a shelf and ran smack into Harry, who balanced about ten thick volumes in his arms. "Steady on," Mike said, catching a few that toppled off the pile. "Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

"Lunch," Harry replied from the other side of the stack. He shifted the books and saw for the first time who he had run into. "Sorry about that. I can't see where I'm going around these things."

"Not your fault," Mike said, dropping the volumes he was holding on top of Harry's pile. The Gryffindor grunted at the extra weight and shifted his arms around to get a better grip. Mike leaned against the shelf, nonchalantly blocking Harry's way to the checkout desk. "Happens to the best of us."

"I'm just a bit out of sorts this morning is all," Harry explained. "Could you excuse me?"

Mike ignored Harry's request. "Completely understandable," he said. "I know I'm always out of sorts when I'm short on sleep."

"Pardon?" Harry shifted his arms again, and the stack of books tilted precariously. "Actually, I am a bit tired today."

"No doubt from your stargazing the other night."

Harry lost his grip and the pile crashed to the floor. He gave Mike an incredulous look. "Sorry?"

"I'm not, actually, but thanks for asking. So," Mike surveyed the mess of volumes but made no move to help pick them up. "What are you reading?" He turned a few books over with his foot so that the covers faced up. "Celtic Prophecies: A Complete History? The Pendragon Returns? Potter, this all looks very boring."

Harry gave Mike an odd look. Although very little of the hostility from the past few days remained, there was no offer of friendship in his gaze. He might not hate Mike anymore, but he certainly did not like him. "It's for extra credit," was Harry's only explanation.

"No doubt you need all the help you can get," Mike muttered. Then, louder, he said, "Well, I have a book to find, and you don't want to miss lunch."

"Wait," Harry said. "What did you say?"

Mike gestured to the books on the floor. "I'm not surprised you're trolling for extra credit. From what I gather, Divination is hardly your strongest subject."

Harry nodded slowly, and in the blink of an eye his wand was in his hand. "Just wanted to make sure I hadn't misheard."

Mike rolled his eyes. "Going to curse me now? At some point or other everyone in the school has heard you and Ron complaining about how Divination is bollocks. Is it really such a stretch for me to assume you're not Trelawney's pet student?"

Harry and Mike stared each other down, and then Harry slowly tucked his wand away. "That's better," Mike said. "You really should get some sleep, Potter. You look terrible." He stepped over the pile of books and rounded the corner, purposely jostling Harry's shoulder as he did so.

Harry almost went after the Ravenclaw, but Hermione's voice echoed in his head. Whenever he or Ron fought with Malfoy, she always lectured them afterwards about how it wasn't worth the loss in house points. Harry figured that just this once, since Mike was Ginny's friend, he could take Hermione's advice. He gathered his books from the floor and staggered to the checkout desk. A pair of wide gray eyes peeked around the shelf and watched him go.

* * * * *

Draco dropped off an overdue book and, on his way out, scanned the library for anyone he knew. He spotted Dana Silvermoon sitting by herself, scribbling on a piece of parchment and detoured to talk to her. After all, it was midday and he hadn't yet picked a single fight. As he neared the table, however, Draco noticed in puzzlement that the she wore a Ravenclaw crest on her school robes. He glanced up just in time to see a second Silvermoon, her crest Slytherin green, emerge from the stacks toting an armful of spell books. She scowled when she saw him. "What are you doing here?"

He smirked and gestured to the Ravenclaw, who finally looked up from her notes. "Aren't you going to introduce me, Silvermoon?" Draco asked. "Where are your manners?"

Dana rolled her eyes and said, "Delia, this is Draco Malfoy, son and heir of the most notorious Death Eater ever to talk his way out of Azkaban. Malfoy, Delia Silvermoon, bookworm and bitch goddess."

Dana sincerely hoped her sister would not embarrass her in front of Malfoy. All the Slytherin girls and half the ones from other houses turned into giggling puddles of drool whenever he came around. To her relief, Delia merely glanced up and gave him a nod of acknowledgement. Dana should have known better; Delia very rarely giggled, and wasn't likely to start just because Draco Malfoy was standing in front of her. Although Delia didn't seem inclined to strike up a friendship, she didn't seem to find him repulsive, as Dana did. But, then, Dana was in the vast minority when it came to her opinion of Draco Malfoy.

Dana dumped her armload of books on the table beside her sister. "There. I've done my part for your project, and now I'm leaving."

Delia frowned at her twin. "I'd appreciate if you would stay and go through some of these. I'm doing this just as much for you as I am for me."

"No," Dana said. "It's a waste of time and I'm hungry. You and Malfoy are a couple of like-minded individuals. No doubt he'll be thrilled to help with your bizarre quest."

Once Dana was out of earshot, Draco scanned the titles on the spines of the books and asked idly, "What are you working on?"

Delia flipped through one of the volumes Dana found. "I'm looking for spells to help me find my birth parents."

It figured that Silvermoon's twin would be a sentimental mudblood. He sneered, "Why?"

She looked up at him, her face set in determination. "They were pureblood wizards. I just know it. And I'm going to prove it."

Well, that was an entirely different matter. "Oh?" he asked, sitting down and pulling a book off the stack. He gave her an encouraging glance and began flipping through the pages. After a few minutes, he decided to test the waters. Draco watched Delia carefully as he asked, "So, what do you think of your sister going around with Seamus Finnigan?"

Delia shrugged and, without looking up from her book said, "I can't fault her for good taste."

"Good taste? A Gryffindor?"

"Oh, come on. Some of them aren't bad at all. Like Harry Potter, for instance."

Draco looked at her incredulously, and she glanced up from her book, a sly smile playing around the corner of her mouth. He realized with astonishment that she was teasing him. He didn't think he'd ever been teased before. No one had dared. He decided to call her bluff. "Potter? He's right over there," Draco said, inclining his head towards the checkout desk. "Want me to introduce you? We go way back."

Delia gave him a sarcastic look. "Oh, would you?" she asked in a falsetto. "He's just so good and brave and true and rich and," she sighed dramatically, "perfect." She made a disgusted noise and returned to her book.

"You forgot handsome," he offered.

She turned a page. "No I didn't."

Draco couldn't help but be intrigued. She had definite possibilities. And Draco never missed a chance to exploit possibilities.

* * * * *

Dana spotted a red ponytail in the middle of the crowd heading to the Great Hall and threaded her way through the mess of students until she was right behind Ginny. She tapped the Gryffindor on the shoulder and said, "I have to talk to you about something."

Ginny looked surprised to see her, but she managed a friendly smile. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," Dana said quickly. "Come on." She took Ginny's arm and pulled her into a hallway that branched off from the entrance hall. She led the older girl into an empty classroom and closed the door. "I'm glad I caught you before lunch."

Ginny frowned. "Dana, is everything okay?"

"I don't know," she said. "Just now, Mike and Harry had an almost-fight in the library."

"How do you know?"

"I was finding some books for my sister and they were in the next aisle over."

"Oh," Ginny said, giving Dana an odd look. "Well, those two don't like each other very much."

"I just wanted to let you know before it got back to you from someone who wasn't even there, especially considering the way Harry almost took Mike's head off at the Ball."

Ginny sighed. Of all things she didn't feel like doing today, smoothing out Mike and Harry's ruffled feathers was at the top of the list. "All right, what were they fighting about?"

"I couldn't really tell," Dana said. "It was all kind of weird. Mike said Harry was bad at Divination and Harry pulled his wand, but Harry was just tired from Astronomy class, so..."

"Astronomy class?" Ginny interrupted.

"Well, Harry said he was tired and Mike said it was probably from stargazing late at night, and then they started talking about Divination and Harry--"

"And Harry pulled his wand." Ginny was not amused.

"Yeah. Anyway, I just thought you should know."

"Thanks. I appreciate it."

Dana nodded, and opened the door to the hallway. "Come on, then. I'm starving."

"So am I," Ginny agreed. "It's been a long morning."

* * * * *

At the Gryffindor table, Ginny dropped into a seat between Shannon and Gwen, across from Ria. "Let me see your hand," were the first words out of Ria's mouth. Ginny extended her arm, palm up. Ria examined Ginny's finger and said, "By your reaction last night, I thought the Doxy had amputated something."

Ginny shook her head. "Apparently the sight of blood makes me squeamish. Who knew?"

She spooned some food on her plate as the other three compared gossip of morning classes. A few seats away, Ron and Hermione were having a heated discussion. Ginny tuned her friends out and eavesdropped.

"Hermione, that chapter isn't even going to be on the test! Why would I ever need to know how to transfigure a football into a flamingo?" Ron complained.

"I was just pointing out that you haven't done any of your reading, and the exam is in two hours. Excuse me for being concerned that you're going to fail."

Ginny thought for a moment. In two hours, she would be in History of Magic. This would be a golden opportunity to teach Harry a lesson that he would remember the next time he wanted to fight with Mike about something as stupid as Divination.

* * * * *

Ginny stared out the window in Professor Binns's classroom. She was the only student in the room who wasn't unconscious. But, then, she was on a mission. Ginny gently probed around the block in the link and realized that all she had to do to communicate with Harry was want to do so. She left the link open a little, just enough to keep tabs on when it was his turn to Transfigure something, but not enough that he would realize she was spying.

When he got up and walked to the front of the class she said, Harry, I need to talk to you.

He was almost to Professor McGonagall's desk. Not now, Gin. I'm kind of busy.

What happened in the library today with you and Mike?

Harry clutched his wand. I said not now. I have to concentrate.

Oh. I'm in History of Magic. It's so boring. Shannon is sound asleep. She snores sometimes, you know. Wouldn't it be funny if she snored right now? I wonder if Binns would even notice.

Harry stared at his football and tried focus, but Ginny wouldn't stop talking. Ginny! he exclaimed. I'm right in the middle of transfiguring--

A football into a flamingo? she interrupted.

Yes.

She laughed. Good luck, Harry. You know, just today in Transfiguration Colin told me a funny story....

Professor McGonagall gave Harry an strange look and said, "What are you waiting for, Potter? I don't have all day."

As Ginny chattered away, Harry gritted his teeth and racked his brain for the incantation. Unfortunately, at the moment his mind housed one more person than usual, so the spell wasn't forthcoming. Harry took a wild guess and waved his wand. The football turned bright pink and sprouted long, spindly legs but otherwise remained unchanged. "Seventy percent, Potter. You may have a seat. Thomas, your turn."

Harry returned to his desk. Is the test over? Ginny asked. All right, then. I'll just say goodbye. See you later!

* * * * *

After class, Harry approached Professor McGonagall's desk and said, "Can I talk to you about my score?"

"Your football was seventy percent transfigured, so I gave you a seventy percent, Potter. I don't see what there is to discuss." She sorted through papers and didn't look up at him.

Harry swallowed, and then pressed on. "I was wondering if I could retake the exam tomorrow." McGonagall looked up at him, and the words came tumbling out in a rush. "I was up late last night, so I had trouble concentrating today."

She tsked. "I can't give you a retake just because you didn't get to bed early."

"No, it's not that," Harry said. "I was with the Headmaster until about one thirty, so--"

In a flash, McGonagall's entire demeanor changed. Her face softened, and her eyes reflected concern. "In that case, you don't have to explain, Potter. I understand. These are difficult times for everyone. Of course you may retake the test tomorrow."

He gave her a relieved smile, slung his bag over his shoulder and headed for the door. As soon as he was in the hallway, though, his smile faded. When he finally found Ginny, it was not going to be a pleasant scene.

* * * * *

That night, Ginny sat again in the deserted Charms classroom. She spent an hour making the feather levitate, and then she moved on to a bit of Transfiguration. Ginny concentrated on the matchstick and tried to visualize it turning into a needle. The stick vibrated; she knew she was close. But, her concentration was broken by someone slamming the door. She looked up and saw Harry, who was extremely annoyed.

"What did you think you were doing?" he asked. "I was in the middle of a test."

"I know," she said. "It's not like there's any permanent damage. I'm sure McGonagall was understanding."

"You could've really ruined my grade."

She toyed with the matchstick. "Come on, Harry. You asked for a retake the moment class was over and she gave it to you. No harm, no foul."

"How did you know I would even ask?"

She smiled. "That moment on the common room floor, remember? You thought I was the only one whose twisted inner workings were revealed?"

Strangely, Harry was not disturbed by this statement. He figured that if there had to be someone who knew the ins and outs of every aspect of his character, he was glad it was Ginny. And it seemed that she was developing a sense of humor about their link, for which he was grateful.

"I heard you were a prat in the library today," Ginny said.

"He was rude."

"I'm sure. He tends to be. But that's not an excuse for pulling your wand on him."

"Gin, he implied that I was bad at Divination."

"You are bad at Divination."

He sat in the desk next to hers. "Maybe I don't want it publicized all over the school."

"Sorry to tell you, but it's a bit late for that." He made a face, and she continued, "It's tremendously reassuring, you know. To hear that famous Harry Potter isn't perfect."

"I bet. What are you doing in here?"

She put the matchstick down and pulled out the feather. "Watch this." She didn't even have to say the charm in her mind anymore; the feather levitated when she willed it.

Harry watched it float around the room and then gently land in front of him. "Wow."

"Wow is right. I spent all last night figuring out how to do that."

He twirled the feather between his fingers and nodded towards the matchstick. "Turning it into a needle?"

"I have to start somewhere. There's no way I'd be able to do anything as fancy as changing a football into a flamingo."

"It's much harder than it sounds," he said. "You'll probably have to hold off on that one for a while."

"Thanks for the advice."

Harry cleared his throat. "Gin, about our link. You said the potion is temporary?"

"That's what Mórrígan told me."

"How temporary, exactly?"

She thought for a moment, but couldn't recall Mórrígan saying anything about a time period. "I'm not sure, Harry. Why?"

"It's just that we'll have to figure out how to control it ourselves, so that when the potion wears off we're not right back where we started."

She nodded, and fixed her attention back on the stick. Without even thinking about it, Ginny levitated the match off the desk and looped it in small figure eights. Harry grabbed it out of the air. "Hey!" she exclaimed.

"Sorry. I can't concentrate when you're doing that. About practicing?"

"Do you want to start tomorrow?" she asked. "We can meet right here after dinner."

He nodded. "That's fine."

"All right." She plucked the match out of his fingers. "I'll see you then. I have to get back to this."

Harry said goodbye, but she was already lost in concentration.

When Harry reached the door, he turned back to look at her. The single candle glinted off the red-gold of her hair, turning it into shimmering sunlight. Her face was creased with concentration, and she looked very small and alone, sitting in a small pool of firelight in a corner of the cavernous classroom. Harry gently shut the door and headed back to Gryffindor tower.