The Rebirth

Chapter 9

The Pensieve

December 25, 1997 - Malfoy Manor

When the Death Eaters returned from their Hogsmeade rampage, Draco knew right away that they'd been unsuccessful. They carried their fallen comrades, and looked dejected to a one. He figured they were anticipating the punishment the Dark Lord dealt to those who failed him. For a moment Draco wondered if the limp bodies were dead, but quickly discarded that notion. Dumbledore was too firmly ensconced in his own moral superiority to ever use Unforgivable Curses.

"What happened?" Draco asked, even though the answer to his question was obvious.

"There were too many of them," one of the men replied.

"Too many? How many is too many?"

They shuffled their feet nervously. He sighed, exasperated. "You couldn't even get a count? I take that to mean the mission was a complete failure?" He hoped it was so. Failure would go a long way towards convincing Voldemort to stop looking for the Pendragon.

"Not a complete failure," one of them offered tentatively.

"Explain yourself," he ordered.

"We saw her," the Death Eater said earnestly. "But she got away."

"Who is she then?" Draco's face was a carefully aloof mask, but his mind raced a hundred miles an hour, adjusting his plan to fit around this new information.

"A girl with red hair."

He gave the man a sharp look. "Red hair?" It was Weasley then. Christ! Could this get any worse?

The man nodded eagerly. "Red hair. Short little thing. She blocked a curse with silver magic. Was in the village with a bloke named Seamus."

Draco's expression betrayed none of his utter shock. Red hair and a boy named Seamus could only mean Dana Silvermoon. She couldn't be the Pendragon, of course, but these men didn't know who she was, or that she hadn't been born on the proper day. Draco had no idea where Dana fit in, but if she had any Otherworldly power then her twin did too. And that would come in handy.

"Idiots," he said angrily. "The Pendragon was in your grasp and you let her escape! The Dark Lord will make you the next sacrifice for this. His vengeance is absolute."

He saw the fear in their eyes and felt a surge of triumph. The situation was salvageable. One of the minions begged, "Please, isn't there anything you can do?"

Draco arched an eyebrow. "What are you suggesting? Our Lord would've accepted that Dumbledore kept the Pendragon safely locked in the castle, but knowing that you had her in your grasp and let her go..." His lips curved up in a wicked smile. "There's nothing that can save you now."

"Does he have to know?" one of them asked. "Can't you just tell him that she wasn't there?"

Draco shook his head. "Lie to our master? Never."

"Please," another one begged. "You won't find servants more loyal than we are. We'll serve you faithfully. It will never happen again."

"All right," Draco said, thinking that this was really too easy. "I'll tell him that she wasn't in the village. But each and every one of you now owes me a life debt. Don't forget, because someday I'm going to collect."

* * * * *

December 26, 1997 - Hogwarts

Ginny crept back into consciousness. Sleep felt so nice; she didn't want to wake up. Her bed was warm and comfortable, and she just wanted to sink back into her dreams. Maybe she would do just that, depending on what time it was. Without opening her eyes, Ginny stuck her hand outside the bed curtains and groped around on her night table for her watch. She felt her jewelry, a pile of hairpins, glasses...glasses! Her eyes flew open and she looked through the gap between the velvet bed hangings and the wall. Glasses. On her night table. Where no glasses should've been. Ginny let the curtain drop back into place and rolled over, right onto Harry, who was still sound asleep. One of his arms was thrown over his head; the other wound around her and held her close the moment she was near enough.

Ginny was too surprised to move away. She tried to remember the events of the night before, to piece together how exactly Harry wound up sleeping in her bed. They came back from Dumbledore's office, but neither one of them had wanted to be alone in their dorms, so they waited on the sofa for Ron and Gwen to return. After that, Ginny didn't remember. She must have fallen asleep. Her mind tripped along possible scenarios, but she quickly lost patience. Facts weren't reached through speculation, so she opened up her sight. He had carried her upstairs, and.... It was a good thing Ginny was lying down, because she felt suddenly weak at the image that sprang into her mind, of Harry removing her jewelry and taking down her topknot. Of his fingers touching her skin and running through her hair while she slept unaware. For a moment she balked at the notion that his innocent action could provoke such a strong reaction, but she wasn't really surprised. After all, this was Harry. If there was ever anyone who could make her heart beat faster with just a look it was him, no matter how she tried to ignore it. Never was she so aware of herself as when she was with him. And, at the same time, never was she so aware of the fact that he would settle for nothing less than all of her, and he would be perfectly content with nothing until she was ready to give him everything. There would never be an in between. Not for them.

Ginny suddenly felt very warm, and tried to shift out of his hold. He stirred and she stilled, not wanting to wake him and deal with the inevitable discussion. This was an awkward situation if there ever was one, and she wasn't sure exactly what etiquette dictated one should say when one woke up next to someone whom one did not expect but was not all together unhappy to see.

Mulling over that idea, Ginny rested her chin on Harry's chest and gazed at him pensively. She could never look her fill when he was awake; he always managed to catch her, and she didn't want him to think she was staring. He looked older without his glasses, less vulnerable, harder somehow. He was nice looking, she supposed. It was his eyes that made the difference, though. Whether they shone with humor or anger, sparkled with triumph after a Quidditch victory or flashed with determination while plotting how to protect her from the Death Eaters in Hogsmeade, his eyes were what made him remarkable. She was glad they were still closed. And then they weren't.

Ginny immediately decided to make the first move. That was the best way. Of doing what, she didn't know. "Hi," she whispered.

Harry looked slightly chagrined, as though he had been caught doing something that he wasn't supposed to be doing. Ginny supposed that, in a way, he had. "Did you sleep well?" he asked.

She remembered the last time he had asked that, the day after the Halloween ball. She had been terrified of him that morning but today she was determined to take control of the situation and, although she had no idea exactly what was going to happen, at least it would be on her terms. "I did, thanks. You?"

His lips turned up in a gentle smile. "Never better." Harry wondered what had come over him. Curling up next to her had seemed like the most natural thing in the world last night, but he hadn't considered her reaction upon waking up. Still, she didn't look angry yet which was an encouraging sign.

"Harry," she said quietly, with genuine curiosity, "what are you doing here?"

"Where?" he asked, stalling while he tried to think of a plausible explanation. "In your room or in your bed?"

Ginny's blush soared all the way up to her hairline. "Both."

She was still sorry for hurting him yesterday, Harry thought, or she wouldn't be so calm. That, or she was too surprised to react properly. But maybe she was happy to see him, an idea that made Harry's heart speed up. He realized she was still waiting for an answer, and he decided honesty would be best. She'd know right away if he gave her anything less than the truth. "I wanted to stay."

Ginny took a deep breath and said evenly, "I'm not sure that's - " She cut off abruptly as he wound his other arm around her waist and looked up into her eyes.

"I wanted to stay," he repeated softly. "I didn't want to be apart from you. When I carried you upstairs I meant to leave, but I just couldn't do it."

That uncomfortable heat intensified, and Ginny tried to squirm away. Harry's arms closed around her and he said tightly, "Gin, maybe you'd better hold still."

She froze and looked down at him. His entire body was tense. Fortunately, she didn't think her face could get much redder than it already was. "Sorry."

He gave her a reassuring half-smile and idly threaded his fingers through her hair.

"I'm confused."

She didn't realize she had spoken out loud until she heard his answer.

"I know."

Brown eyes locked with green. Without knowing why, only knowing that in that moment it was what they both wanted, she lowered her mouth to his. He met her halfway.

Ginny's heart pounded in her ears. Without breaking their kiss, Harry traced his fingers lightly over her face, memorizing every plane and curve. She shivered at the caress, which was both deliberate and gentle. Like Harry himself. She mirrored his actions, trailing her fingertips lightly across his cheekbones, but quickly lost patience and tangled her hands in his unruly hair, marveling at how thick it was.

Harry tried to keep the kiss soft, but Ginny wouldn't let him. When she caught his lower lip between her teeth he groaned and, in one smooth motion, rolled them both over. He reveled in the feeling of having her beneath him, in their tangle of limbs and wrinkled clothes, in her breath against his lips and her body under his hands. Elation sang through him. The last time he had kissed her, really kissed her, in the Astronomy Tower, she had been too stunned at his confession of love to fully participate. But here, right now, she was kissing him with desire equal to his own. What's more, she had started it.

Ginny couldn't keep a thought in her head. Harry's weight crushed her into the mattress and his kiss, demanding and tender, if there could be such a thing, made her head spin. Her stomach was tied in knots, but somehow it felt good, and right.

His palm skated up her leg, over her hip, and around her rib cage. When his hand closed over her breast, Ginny groaned against his mouth. His name was the only word she could manage. "Harry."

The moment she spoke, he froze. His hands pulled away and fisted on the mattress. He broke off the kiss and dropped his forehead to the sheet beside her head, his cheek against hers. His breath echoed hot and ragged against her ear, and she knew she sounded much the same way. "Harry," she said, turning her head to face him. "I think - "

"You don't know what you think," he interrupted, turning to her. He saw passion in her eyes, and even some measure of emotion, but they were tainted by the guarded expression she had worn around him ever since their link opened up. Right now, she simply couldn't give him the relationship he wanted, and Harry would be damned before he'd let her think of him the way she thought of Mike Fletcher. For his own sanity, and hers, he had to maintain some measure of distance and give her time to sort things out, no matter how hard it was going to be. He pushed himself into a sitting position and looked down at her, his chest still heaving as he struggled to get his body under control.

Ginny sat up and pushed her hair out of her face, but didn't contradict his statement. She didn't know what she wanted, and she wasn't going to be capable of rational thought as long as he looked at her that way, kissed her that way. She was dazed after what had been the most amazing fifteen minutes of her life, and flustered that he had ended it so abruptly.

Harry pushed the hangings open and moved to the edge of the bed, bracing his arms on the mattress on either side of him. Ginny shifted so that she was sitting next to him, and he tilted his head to get a better look at her. "I'm sorry, Gin. I shouldn't have - "

"I started it," she interrupted. "You're the one who finished it." Ginny didn't know whether she was happy or not that he had done so, and the resulting frustration and uncertainty put her on edge.

Harry was silent for a moment. Then he said decisively, "It won't happen again."

"Why not?"

Now he turned to face her and his hand, trembling slightly, reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and then cupped her cheek. Just as he had done in the living room at the Burrow, on the morning of the day she first met Mórrígan. So much had changed since then, but when it came to him she still felt like the same Ginny. She was still afraid of letting him too close, of allowing him to share in her triumphs and failures, of giving away so much of herself that there would be nothing left for her. And yet, somehow, Ginny knew she was halfway there already. At the ball he had told her that he knew how she felt about him. Was there something there that he could sense through the link, but was hidden from her? All she knew was that Harry terrified her. Or, rather, the depth of what she could feel for him, if she let herself, terrified her.

He followed her train of thought, saw that she was making peace with something, coming to a realization. He gently stroked his thumb across her cheek and looked at her with all the love in his heart reflected in the emerald pools of his eyes. "It won't happen again until you're ready to acknowledge what's between us. Anything less and I'd feel cheated."

Ginny looked down at her hands, which plucked at the bedspread. "It might be a while."

"I don't care. You're worth the wait."

Harry leaned in and pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth. She felt the whisper of his breath against her skin, and then he pulled away and stood. "I'll be downstairs."

Without a word, she watched him go.

* * * * *

Seamus woke slowly, trying to puzzle out why he couldn't see the curtains on his four-poster. The soft chiming of his wand, which grew louder by the second, jump-started his memory. He wasn't in his dorm; he was in the common room, lying across two couches pushed together, with Dana Silvermoon sleeping soundly beside him. He was still for a moment, and then sat up and looked at Dana. She had half-curled into the fetal position; her back nestled against his side. Seamus listened carefully, but didn't hear anyone stirring yet. He reached out and gently shook Dana's shoulder. "It's time to wake up."

"Mmmm," was the only response he got.

"Come on, Dana," he said, leaning over her slumbering from, "you need to get up before any - " His words, however, cut off as a pair of arms circled his neck and Dana planted a kiss on him.

Grinning mischievously, she said, "Good morning, Seamus. You snore. Did you know?"

Caught off guard, he said, "No I don't," but got no further since at that moment she sat up and jumped from the makeshift bed.

Dana grabbed her robes from the floor and pulled them on over her jeans and turtleneck. "Thanks again, Seamus. I'd better get back to my dorm before I'm missed."

Still flustered, he said, "Right," and tried to climb over the arm of the sofa, only to discover his legs were tangled in the covers. Dana's soft peals of laughter mixed with his grumbling as he extricated himself. Finally free, he climbed out to join her. "Will I see you later?"

She smiled. "At breakfast, I suppose." Then her face turned serious. "Thanks for everything yesterday, Seamus. I've never been so scared as when the pub caught on fire, but you were fantastic, really. I don't know what would've happened if you hadn't been there."

Seamus walked her over to the portrait hole. "Can I tell you a secret? I was scared too."

"Oh?" she asked, eyebrows raised. "I never would've guessed."

He gave her one last hug, wrinkling his nose at the smoky smell that wafted from her hair. "Rotten luck, that Dark Wizards would attack on Christmas. It was our one day to spend in the village together until the next Hogsmeade weekend."

"It's rotten luck that Dark Wizards would attack at all, don't you think?" Dana continued tentatively, "I'm free on the next Hogsmeade weekend, if Dumbledore is still going to let students go. Maybe we'll have better luck next time."

Seamus grinned. "It's a date." He ducked his head down, kissed her quickly, and then pulled the portrait shut as she left. He turned to go up to his dorm, and saw Harry standing near the stairs, looking at him. Seamus nearly jumped out of his skin. "Don't you make any noise when you move?"

Harry asked, "Was that Dana Silvermoon?" His eyes wandered over the common room, taking in the sofas pushed together, Seamus's comforter piled in a tangled heap at one end. "Looks like you two got pretty comfortable."

"We were in Hogsmeade last night," Seamus said. "We just wanted to get away from the school for a few hours. When the pub blew up we were inside, and when we managed to get out, the Death Eaters cornered us in the alley."

Harry stared. "Oh my God. Really? Are you both all right?"

"I don't know," Seamus said. "Did you know she can do Old Magic?" Harry shook his head, and Seamus frowned. "I thought Ginny might have mentioned it, since Dana has been spending so much time around her lately. She did some of it yesterday; rebounded a pretty nasty curse. And then they tried to grab her. Would've done, too, if the teachers hadn't shown up." [A/N: For the full story, check out the Chapter 8 outtake in the files section of the HP Pendragon yahoo group. groups.yahoo.com/group/HPPendragon]

Harry thought he should cross the room, clap Seamus on the back or something. The Irish boy looked to be in a bad way. "But you're both all right?"

He nodded. "She was pretty shaken up last night. I didn't want her going back to her dorm alone, so I brought her back here. Nothing happened, and I know she's a Slytherin and everything but - "

"Seamus," Harry interrupted, "it's okay. I've got plenty on my mind right now without getting angry that you brought your girlfriend to our common room."

Seamus blushed at that. "Girlfriend?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Isn't she?"

"Dunno," Seamus mumbled.

"Well," Harry said, "I'm going to shower before Ron wakes up. He's in a right mood; you'll probably want to avoid him for a while today." He cleared his throat. "I really am glad you're okay, mate."

"Thanks," Seamus said as he crossed the room and grabbed his comforter from the sofa. Harry followed him up the stairs.

* * * * *

An hour later, Harry sat in an armchair and stared out the window at the village in the distance. The Dark Mark was still there, and wouldn't disappear completely for another two or three days. Green light dripped down the skull in thick, heavy rivulets. It was like watching a candle melt, and made the emblem even more gruesome than it had been the day before. Someone cleared his throat, and Harry turned to see Ron standing in the center of the room, arms crossed over his chest, a black scowl on his face. "What's going on?" he demanded.

Harry sighed inwardly. This wasn't going to be easy, but answering all of Ron's questions as best as he could was the only way he was going keep this friendship intact. He didn't want another Triwizard Tournament debacle. Harry got to his feet and faced his friend. "What do you want to know?"

Ron wasn't having it. "Don't give me that 'I'm so open and won't pull anything behind your back' crap. You slept with my sister last night."

"Don't be daft."

"I'm not blind, Harry. You think I didn't see how you acted toward Mike? And then when Hermione and I came up and you and Ginny were on the sofa, and you didn't come upstairs last night...I'm not blind."

"I never said you were," Harry answered, keeping his voice calm. "And I said I'd answer your questions. The thing is, you haven't asked any yet."

Ron took a step toward Harry, who held his ground. "Do you have feelings for Ginny?"

"I'm in love with her."

Ron's face went very white. He stared at Harry, who raised his eyebrows and asked, "Is that all, or is there anything more you wanted to know?"

Ron was still stuck on Harry's announcement, the matter-of-fact way he said it. He wasn't embarrassed or apologetic, just completely sincere. Blunt, even. "Since when?" Ron managed to croak.

Harry shrugged. "I don't know."

"What the hell do you mean you don't know!" Ron shouted. "You think you're in love with my little sister and you can't even tell me - "

"I don't think I'm in love with her," Harry interrupted. "I am. I can't help it, and I didn't choose it, but I wouldn't trade it for anything. That's just the way it is." His tone was firm, but not confrontational. He didn't want to anger Ron any more than had already been done.

"Did you even think of her? Your life is in danger every minute of every day, and now you've dragged Ginny into it. You-Know-Who is just waiting for an opportunity to...he attacked Hogsmeade yesterday, for Christ's sake!"

Harry studied his shoes and let Ron vent his fear for his sister without interruption. He couldn't very well say that Ginny was the reason his life was in danger from Voldemort, so he remained silent.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" Ron's exclaimed, his voice rough with anxiety for Ginny's welfare. "My sister's already been You-Know-Who's victim once, and she almost died. Do you have any idea what that put my family through? Have you even considered what might happen to her now that you two are together? How can you - "

"We're not together," Harry cut in.

This took the wind right out of Ron's sails. "You're not...what? What do you mean? You just told me that you two are in - "

"I never said anything about her."

Ron sank onto a sofa and fixed his friend with a bewildered stare. "But that's impossible. Of course she loves you. She's always been mad about you."

Harry sat next to Ron and shook his head. "That was just a crush. She's over it by now, I promise."

"Does she know how you...I mean, have you told her?"

"Yeah."

"And?"

"And what? We're not together. You can figure it out."

"Do you want me to say something to her?" Ron asked.

"I'd rather you didn't." Harry was relieved that Ron wasn't furious anymore, although he couldn't quite understand why.

"Say something to me about what?" Ginny asked as she came down the girls' stairs, freshly showered and wearing her new Weasley sweater and a pair of old jeans.

"We weren't talking about you," Harry answered before Ron could speak up.

"Yes you were. Say something to me about what?"

"About how you're breaking Harry's heart, that's what," Ron said sharply.

Harry dropped his head in his hands and groaned. This was beyond embarrassing. He hoped she wouldn't think he'd put Ron up to it. Still, there was nothing to do now but to stick it out. "Ron, stop it."

"Who says I'm breaking his heart?" Ginny asked. I'm not, am I?

Of course not, Harry answered quickly.

"He's in love with you!" Ron exclaimed.

Harry wanted to sink through the floor.

"Ron," Ginny said evenly, "this really couldn't be any less your business."

"He's my friend and if you're leading him on - "

"I'm not!"

"Could you two please not have this conversation while I'm sitting right here?" Harry asked, but they ignored him.

"If you're not leading him on then where did he sleep last night?" Ron demanded.

Ginny looked him straight in the eye and said, "I haven't the faintest idea. He's your roommate, not mine." It was the first time she'd ever lied to a family member's face, and she was wretchedly unhappy at how easy it had been.

"Gin," Ron said, moving closer so Harry couldn't hear, "I mean it. He deserves better than that."

She rolled her eyes. "Thirty seconds ago you were yelling so loud I could hear you all the way upstairs."

"That was before I found out that you're hurting him."

"Did he tell you that?" she asked, concern making her voice sharp.

"Not exactly."

Not at all, more like. Ginny sighed. So this was where it was coming from. Ron and Hermione were always so damn protective of Harry. "You just assumed it then. Look, Ron," she said, not unkindly, "you don't understand anything about anything."

"Explain it to me then."

"No."

Ron was startled at her flat refusal, given without any qualifications whatsoever. "Why not?"

"Because I don't discuss Harry with anyone who isn't Harry."

"But - "

"Drop it, Ron." Her tone would brook no refusal. "He's fine. I'm fine. Everything's fine." Her eyes softened, and she stood on tiptoes to give her brother a quick hug. "Thank you, though," she murmured in his ear.

"What for?"

"For being such a good friend to him."

"Whenever you're done whispering about me!" Harry called from his spot on the couch.

"Right," Ginny called back. "We're done. I'll see you two later." She added, so that only Harry could hear, Think about spending some time with Ron and Hermione during the rest of the holidays. They miss you. I can tell.

I'm with them every single day, Harry answered. I have classes with them, and I eat with them, and I even sleep in the same room as Ron, usually.

Ginny pushed the portrait open as she said, But are you ever really with them anymore, or are you preoccupied with being my protector? They can tell, Harry. But they think it's because of that thing you were on about over the summer, keeping them safe from Voldemort by avoiding them. She gave him a small smile. Just think about it, please? It would make them both happy, and you too. They're worried sick about you. The portrait swung shut behind her.

She was right, he knew. He had been so taken up with Ginny lately that he had hardly spared any time for his two best friends. But still, he couldn't just let Ron's outburst go. Harry shifted on the sofa so he could look at his friend. "I wish you hadn't done that."

He scowled. "If she's leading you on - "

"She's not," Harry said. "We've been over this."

Ron snorted derisively. "What would you call it, then? She tags after you for how many years? And now that you have feelings for her, she suddenly doesn't want any part of it?"

"That's about right," Harry confirmed, getting up and going over to the cupboard. He got out a chessboard and the box that held his and Ron's chess sets. They kept their pieces together because Harry and Hermione were the only Gryffindors who would play Ron anymore, since trying to beat him was a pointless exercise. Harry mainly wanted to have something to do with his hands during this conversation. Ron used his wand to move a table and two chairs near the fire, and he and Harry set up their pieces, still talking. It was a routine they'd done countless times before.

"That sounds like leading on to me," Ron said. "I should owl mum. Maybe she'll send Ginny a howler." Seeing Harry's face, Ron punched his shoulder. "She's being stupid. Don't take it personally, mate."

Harry shook his head. "She's not being stupid, and I'm not taking it personally. She's just having trouble getting her mind around what it means to have a relationship with someone."

"What?"

"She's convinced," Harry said, directing one of his pawns forward two spaces, "that if she shares any of herself with me, or anyone, then there'll be nothing left for her." He shook his head, frustrated. "She thinks that emotions are things that can run out. It's...kind of hard to explain, and it doesn't make any sense."

Ron countered Harry's move. "She is being stupid then. Why would she think that?" His cheeks tinged pink as he continued, "I mean, with Hermione and me, it's..."

"I know." Harry interrupted, not really in the mood to hear any revelations about his two best friends' relationship. He directed his bishop and tried to think of a change of subject.

Hermione came down the girls' stairs and stopped short at the sight that greeted her. Ron and Harry sat across a chessboard, playing and talking earnestly. It was as though the last few months had never happened, and Harry wasn't distracted and distant anymore, and things were just the way they used to be. She grinned, and started across the room towards them, levitating an armchair over to their game. She paused, though when she heard their topic of conversation. "Are you talking about Ginny?"

Both boys looked up and smiled in welcome as she took a seat. "We are," Ron confirmed. "She's leading Harry on with a lot of tripe about being afraid to share herself. Bollocks, all of it."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Ron. It makes perfect sense that she'd feel that way. It's all she knows, isn't it? Think about what happened to her the last time she opened herself up to someone. Is it any wonder she's scared of letting people close?"

Ron's knight darted forward. He thought for a moment and then had an epiphany, asking in a hushed voice, "Are you talking about You-Know-Who?"

Hermione nodded, her eyes on the chess battle playing out before her. "That diary. Tom Riddle. She poured everything into it, shared everything she had to give, and it turned her into a shell. It let him control her, and people very nearly died, including Harry." She paused while Ron's knight clobbered a pawn. When the noise died down, she continued, "It's not surprising that she kept up a crush on an unattainable person, because it was safe. There was no danger she'd have to give anything up. The moment Harry stopped being unattainable, she got scared."

Harry stared at Hermione. He'd been wracking his brain for months trying to come up with an explanation for Ginny's reluctance to be with him, and Hermione had reasoned it out in less than five minutes. Being friends with the smartest witch of their generation had benefits. "You know, that makes perfect sense. I'll have to work out how to prove her wrong." His mind swung into action, planning how he would go about making her understand that being in love didn't mean losing anything.

"You know, I'm impressed," Hermione said.

"With what?" Harry asked. "The way I'm trouncing Ron?"

Ron snorted and moved his queen, taking Harry's knight. "Pull the other one, Harry."

Hermione shook her head, her wild hair flying out of her ponytail in staticy tendrils. "No," she said gently. "I'm impressed that you care for Ginny enough to give her the time she needs to figure things out for herself."

"What else can I do?" Harry asked, directing his other knight. Too late, he realized that he'd moved it directly in the path of Ron's castle. "It's not like this is just going to go away."

"Maybe you two should talk about this when I'm not here. She's my little sister, you know. Check," Ron said. "That was fast, mate. You're out of practice." He looked up at Harry and sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm not going to pretend I like it. You're putting her in even more danger than she's in already, and if anything ever happened to her, I don't know what it would do to my mum. Still," he licked his lips nervously, and then pressed on, "she's different since her first year. She can be so distant sometimes, and quiet. If it's You-Know-Who's fault, then I suppose you're the one to put it right. I...if you can bring her back to the way she used to be, I'll never say another word about it." Harry didn't reply. They played out a few more moves, and then Ron cleared his throat. "Check again. What're you going to do?"

Harry frowned at the board. "I'm going to lose."

"No! I mean about my sister."

"Oh, right." He thought for a moment, framing his words very carefully. "I'm going to show her through actions that loving someone doesn't mean that you lose yourself."

Hermione said tentatively, "It's going to take a while, Harry. Someone doesn't just change their way of relating to people overnight."

Harry moved his king out of check. "I've got nothing but time."

* * * * *

January 9, 1998

Dana sat in one of the hard, high-backed chairs in front of the fire in her common room. She shifted uncomfortably, wondering whom she'd have to bribe to get a cushion. The Slytherins desperately needed a decorator.

Tinamyia and Portia sat nearby, gossiping about her as though she wasn't within earshot. Dana was just about to go out of her head, and gave an exasperated sigh. Portia turned and said, "What's your problem?"

Dana winced inwardly. So it was going to be one of those days. Sometimes her dormmates got in these moods when they were absolutely intolerable. "Nothing," she said through gritted teeth. "I'm just doing some last minute research for Binns's project. Could you two please hold it down a little?"

Tinamyia rolled her eyes. "If you don't like it, you can always go up to our room. It's empty."

"And dark," Dana replied. "I'd rather stay by the fire."

"We're not about to follow orders from a stuck-up mudblood just because you're studying," Portia sneered.

Dana rubbed her temples. The sheer ignorance of these girls was enough to give her a headache. "I'm not saying you have to stop talking about me. Be as rude as you like; I'd expect nothing less. As long as you do it quietly."

Portia snapped the book off of Dana's lap. "What's this, then, that's so important?"

"The evolution of old magic," Dana said, cursing the Sorting Hat. "I think my sister and I have some of it, so we're looking through books to find out more." Dana glanced up. Over Portia's shoulder she saw Draco Malfoy, watching her intently and listening to every word.

He held her gaze for a long moment and then, without breaking eye contact, stood and crossed over to them. Portia and Tinamyia simpered; Dana glowered. He reached down and, in one fluid motion, plucked the book out of Portia's limp hands. Dana glared at him. "We were having a private conversation."

"So I heard. About how you think you and Delia both have some old magic," he said in that lazy drawl that so grated on her nerves. "Otherworldly magic is extremely rare. I've never heard of anyone having it. Tell me, Silvermoon, what makes you think that you, a simple mud - " he cut himself off and started again, "a simple muggle raised witch, would ever have any?"

Dana wasn't about to tell him what had happened in Hogsmeade, so she said instead, "For your information, Delia and I made a list of things druids could do but modern wizards can't. Some of these things, not anywhere near all, but some, are abilities we have. And sometimes, when I'm working with plants, I see this silver light - " She cut off abruptly as Draco pulled out his wand. He muttered an incantation under his breath and shot discretely at Portia and Tinamyia. Dana jumped to her feet.

"A simple obliviate, Silvermoon. Relax. The fact that you have these powers isn't something you want to go spreading around. Someone might take unfair advantage."

Dana kept her eyes fixed on his wrist. That was what Ginny had done, the day the Gryffindor had almost dueled with Malfoy in the dungeon hallway. "Someone like you?"

Draco's eyes turned calculating. "Is that an invitation?"

"No!" Dana was revolted.

"Pity." He gave a faint smile and tucked his wand away. "Where's your sister?"

"In the library, I imagine, where she always is," she said, wondering what he was playing at.

"Don't worry, Silvermoon. Your secret is safe with me." Draco held out her book and she snatched it back. Without another word, he turned on his heel and exited the common room, leaving her standing by the fire, her two dazed roommates at her feet.

* * * * *

Draco stalked through the hallways, weighing options in his mind. If, as he was increasingly beginning to suspect, the one he needed was Ginny Weasley, his cause was going to run into trouble. If Dumbledore hid her away before their minds could link, Draco would have no way of finding her. However, someone with Otherworldly power would be able to find Ginny, no matter where Dumbledore might put her. Like cried out to like after all, and Draco had to be prepared for every eventuality. Recruiting Dana right now would be a lost cause. Delia, however, had potential. Draco had planned on talking to her eventually; this was just a few years earlier than he'd thought. It was a huge risk, tipping his hand before he knew exactly where she stood, but Draco didn't see that he had any other choice. He was going to have to jump in with both feet, something that went completely against his nature. A verse from a poem drilled into his head by a long forgotten tutor floated through his mind. If you can make one heap of all your winnings / And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss...well, he was about to risk everything, but it was worth it. And then he was there, in the library, and there was Delia Silvermoon, sitting alone surrounded by piles of books. His face and posture not betraying a hint of his inner tension, Draco walked directly to her.

Delia looked up from her parchment. "Is there something you want?" She didn't look pleased to see him, but Draco saw none of the loathing that smoldered in her sister whenever he was near.

He slid into a chair across from her, drew his wand, and cast silencing charms around the table to discourage eavesdropping. Delia raised her eyebrows, but other than that gesture she betrayed no surprise. Draco cut right to the heart of the matter. Forthrightness was the best way to get through to her. "What is the one thing you want most in the entire world?"

Delia blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"If you could have anything, any one thing, what would you want? No limitations."

She was amused. "You sound like one of those quizzes in Witch Weekly. I'm busy; I don't have time for this."

Draco grabbed the quill out of her hand. "I'm not asking because I want to know you better. Everyone has a price, and I want to know yours."

"Why?"

"What would you ask for?" he repeated. "Answer carefully, Delia, because right now I'm laying the entire world at your feet."

She sized him up and then said, "My birth parents. I want to know who they were."

Draco nodded slowly, turning her answer over in his mind. "I can give you that. Not yet, but someday, when it's in my power to do so, I will."

Delia's hands fisted in her lap and she gave him a look that was simultaneously wary, hopeful, and desperate. "What would I have to give you in return?"

"I'm easy to please," he replied. "I only ask for two things. One is that you develop those Otherworldly powers of yours, and convince your sister to do the same." Two Silvermoons were better than one, after all, and Dana was a Slytherin. Someday she would come around.

Delia told him, "I'd been planning on it. What else do you want?"

Gray eyes locked with gray. "Loyalty," Draco said. "If I'm going to do this for you, I demand your absolute loyalty in return."

Delia sat back in her chair and studied him. "Why do you want me to train my abilities?"

He extended his arm across the table. "First we shake on it."

"No, first you tell me why."

"Your hand, Silvermoon," he demanded in a tone no Death Eater had yet dreamed of disobeying.

"Why?"

Draco looked over her face; her lips pressed tightly together, her piercing gaze fixed on him. She wouldn't be intimidated. That pleased him, but he wasn't going to tell her a thing until the bargain was sealed. He leaned across the table. "Think very carefully, Delia," he murmured silkily. "Think about what you'd be throwing away by not entering this bargain. Finally knowing your parents. Proving to the world that you're a witch of the blood. No one will ever say they're better than you; they'll look at you as an equal. As their superior. All you have to do is take my hand."

Delia tried to reason through his offer logically, but her mind was a black void. She had the feeling that she was falling headfirst into a remarkable, life-changing event. "You have ten seconds before the offer is rescinded," Draco said, willing her not to call his bluff. Still, she didn't move. "Five seconds, Silvermoon." Time stretched between them, so taut that Draco thought it might snap.

"Two, one." Time was up. Draco withdrew his hand, and Delia lunged across the table and grabbed it. He was offering her parents. No price was too high for that.

"You have a bargain."

He smiled triumphantly. He'd never yet met someone he couldn't outmaneuver. The contractual magic flowed between them. He relished the sensation.

Delia pulled her hand back. "Now tell me why."

Draco checked to make sure his silencing charms were in place. He leaned across the table and asked, "Have you ever heard of the Pendragon prophecy?"

* * * * *

"The Potions exam is going to be brutal," Ria groaned, her back hunched under a satchel full of books. "I can't believe how many formulas he gave us to review, and all the regular homework besides!"

"It's a crime," Ginny agreed, staggering under the weight of her own bookbag.

"You promise Mike will help us?"

"He said he'd be in the library at nine, and it's nine thirty," Ginny confirmed, looking at her watch. "It can't hurt to ask, right?"

"You mean you haven't talked to him yet?"

"Don't they say that you learn by teaching? It'll help him study just as much as it'll help us. He won't say no."

"But you haven't talked to him yet."

Ginny looked sheepish. "I forgot."

Ria sighed. "Never mind, Ginny. It's okay. If we fail Potions and are forced to leave school, we can always sweep hair off the floor at Gwen's spa."

The two girls rounded a corner and Ginny stopped in her tracks. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and she felt a sudden drop in temperature. Ria stopped too. "Do you feel that?" she whispered.

"It feels like I've walked through a ghost," Ginny whispered back. "But I don't see any, unless they're invisible."

Ria shook her head. "It's not a ghost. I've only felt like this one other time, when the horseless carriages rode past the Dementors guarding the school gate at the beginning of second year."

"You remember that far back?" Ginny asked, surprised.

"It's not the kind of thing you forget, is it?" Ria countered.

Ginny adjusted the shoulder strap on her bag. "There can't be a Dementor here, can there? I mean, if there were, I'd be able to hear...."

Ginny didn't need to finish her sentence. Even though she'd never asked, Ria knew exactly what Ginny heard around Dementors. Voldemort. Or, rather, Tom Riddle. Ria looked down the deserted hallway; half expecting the faceless monster to jump out from behind a suit of armor or through one of the dozens of doors that lined the walls. All was quiet, except for the girls' breathing. Finally she broke the silence. "If it was very close you'd know it, Gin. It must be a few hallways over. Near enough to make us cold, but not enough to...you know."

Ginny pulled out her wand. Her eyes darted around, searching for any evidence of the Dementor's presence. "How do you think it got in?" she whispered.

Ria drew her wand as well. "I don't know. We have to find a teacher."

Ginny's blood was like ice in her veins. She licked her lips and looked back around the corner they had just turned. That hall was empty as well. "Yeah," she agreed, "getting a teacher sounds like a very good idea."

Neither girl moved. "After you," Ria said.

"All right."

Ginny stayed rooted to her spot. She was pale, her eyes were wide with trepidation and her breath came shallow and fast. Ria was scared, but not to the same degree as her friend. Of course, if she had to listen to what the Dementors made Ginny hear Ria would probably be out of her mind with panic. Ria thought her friend was holding together very well, and felt a flash of respect for Ginny as she asked, "What if...what if we run into it?"

Ginny adjusted her bag again. "Expecto Patronum. You passed this unit with no problem, Ria. You'll be fine." At least, she hoped Ria would be fine, as Ginny wouldn't be surprised if she herself wound up curled on the floor in a ball of fear.

Ria caught Ginny's free hand in her own and squeezed it. Her grasp was clammy, but still the gesture was reassuring. "You'll be fine too. Gin? Are you okay?"

Cold fingers of dread crept up Ginny's spine and laced through her mind, bringing with it a terrible sense of wrongness, of something that was an affront to nature itself. Quietly, as though from far away, she heard his voice laughing with sadistic glee. "You made it so easy, Ginny. He's going to die, and it's all thanks to you."

Ginny swayed and her bag slipped to the floor, its contents spilling everywhere. Her voice was nothing more than a hoarse gasp. "Too late. It's coming right for us." She and Ria stared at each other in mute horror, and then Ginny swung into action. She grabbed her friend by the sleeve and pulled her around the corner. Ginny briefly considered making a run for it, but she didn't know how fast Dementors could move. It would be better if she and Ria held their ground.

The girls pressed up against the wall, and Ginny slowly peeked around the corner. Tom's echo was still far away, and she heard voices approaching. She prayed it was a teacher. Or, at the very least, Ron, Harry, and Hermione. They always knew what to do in situations like this. Now the other voices were near enough that Ginny could recognize one of them; it was Dumbledore, and he sounded furious. She almost sank to her knees in relief, and sent up silent thanks to Mórrígan.

At the end of the hall, Dumbledore stormed into view, followed by Minister Fudge, who was very red in the face. Ginny frowned; she tried to ignore the cold, the prickling notes of decay that disrupted the fluidity of the symphony in her power. She tried to force Tom's voice back; she had to focus. Something was very wrong. Something besides the Dementor. She stepped back around the corner to get a closer look. "Are you mad?" Ria hissed, grabbing at Ginny's robes but missing.

At the other end of the long corridor, Fudge blustered, "Surely this was an isolated incident. Madame Rosmerta's injuries are unfortunate, yes, but why would You-Know-Who attack so close to the school? Perhaps this was a copycat crime."

"The Dark Marks were real," Dumbledore said. "The Death Eaters were real. As to why they attacked so close to the school..." Ginny strained her ears, her heart in her throat. Was Dumbledore going to tell Fudge about the Pendragon? The Headmaster continued, "It was a poorly calculated maneuver." Ginny let out a breath. Apparently, Dumbledore didn't trust the Minister enough to inform him of the prophecy.

Tom grew louder, his words ricocheting around her mind. "Ginny, you made it so easy. After all these years, Lord Voldemort will finally kill the great Harry Potter. And it wouldn't have been possible without you. Don't you feel proud, Ginny? Don't you?" She bit her lip and clutched her wand, tried to think of something happy - Ria, Quidditch, Bill - they all slipped away like grains of sand. There was only Tom, filling her head with his nightmarish laughter. She couldn't see, couldn't think.

Dumbledore heard Ria cry out as Ginny collapsed. He looked down the corridor, saw the two students, and turned to Fudge, his voice cold. "You will never bring one of those filthy creatures into my school again, Minister. Do I make myself clear?"

Fudge spluttered. "I have a right to personal protection. I'm a public figure, and these are dangerous times."

"Nonetheless, it is feeding off of my students. There is nothing you need fear in this castle, and Dementors are not welcome. Take it and go, or I will drive it out."

Fudge made an impatient motion over his shoulder, and the Dementor glided into view. Ginny was already unconscious, and Ria stood over her, rooted to the spot. She shivered with cold and fear. Fudge stormed off, and the monster followed.

Dumbledore immediately raced down the hallway towards the two Gryffindors. He pulled a bar of Honeydukes chocolate out of his pocket and handed a few squares to Ria, taking the rest for himself. The moment she swallowed the chocolate, Ria felt warm right down to her fingertips. Before she could thank the Headmaster, though, Ginny stirred. Ria dropped to her knees as her friend opened her eyes and tried to sit up. 'Gin, stay still a second."

Ginny's eyes opened wide. "Where's Dumbledore?"

"He's right here," Ria soothed. "Just relax. You need some chocolate."

Dumbledore knelt beside Ginny as well. "I'm afraid I don't have any more. I wasn't expecting the Minister to bring one of those things. She'll need to go to the hospital wing." The Dementor must have affected Ginny strongly; for once she wasn't looking at him with her patented mix of defiance and fear. She had asked for him by name.

"Will she be all right?" Ria asked, her forehead creased with concern.

"She'll make a full recovery," Dumbledore reassured. "In fact, she'll probably be back in your common room later this evening. Why don't you go back to Gryffindor, Miss Johnson, and wait for her there?"

Ria obviously didn't want to leave her friend. Ginny rested her hand on Ria's arm. "I'm okay, really. I'll see you later."

Ria nodded reluctantly. "If you're not back in our dorm by midnight, I'm sounding the alarm." She gathered up her things and, with one last backward look at Ginny, left for Gryffindor tower.

The moment she was out of earshot, Dumbledore asked, "Why didn't you stay hidden when you sensed the Dementor?"

Ginny wracked her brain, trying to remember. She had sensed something that wasn't right, and stepped out to get a clearer look... "It was Minister Fudge," she said, still trembling from the monster's after effects.

"What about the Minister?"

Ginny hesitated, unsure as to whether or not the Headmaster would believe what she saw. "He's under the Imperius Curse."

Dumbledore visibly paled, which frightened Ginny more than any other reaction could have done. "Are you positive?"

She nodded. "I saw it. He was ordered to bring the Dementor here. But why, I don't know. It didn't attack anyone did it? Just followed him around?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "You and Miss Johnson were the only students who got close enough to feel its effects." He held out his hand and helped Ginny to her feet. "Come with me."

"We're not going to the hospital wing, are we?"

"No," Dumbledore replied, "we're going to my office. You and I need to have a talk."

* * * * *

Draco lounged on his bed, reading his Transfiguration text. He looked up from his studies when he heard the door creak open. Blaise eased in and shut the door behind him. "Where are Crabbe and Goyle?"

Draco flipped his book closed. "I haven't the faintest idea. Not here, at any rate, and thank the gods for it. I can't ever concentrate with them grunting and stumbling all over the place."

Blaise shrugged and tossed a parcel wrapped in brown paper to Draco. He caught it and sat up. "What's this?"

"No idea. It came for you by special delivery owl."

"Just now?"

Blaise nodded and sat on his bed. "Any idea who it's from?"

"The handwriting looks like Lucius's." Draco detached the envelope from the package and slit it open. Blaise watched the emotions play across his friend's face: interest, annoyance, and then resignation.

Draco tossed the letter down. "This might put a wrench in things. But then," he said thoughtfully," it might not. I just have to think for a minute."

"What's going on?"

Draco picked up the sheet of thick white stationary and read through it once more, committing the details to memory. Then he picked his wand up from the night table and said, "Incendio." The letter flared red, and then its ashes drifted to the floor like black snow. Draco looked up at Blaise. "It seems that the Dark Lord has been thinking over my advice, and is considering the benefits of gaining power through politics and propaganda rather than through terrorizing people."

Blaise frowned. "But I thought that's what you wanted. If we're not running around doing his bidding every night, we'll have a chance to fully develop our powers and our faction will gain strength."

"That is what I want," Draco confirmed, amused that Blaise had parroted back his exact words from Christmas. "But the Dark Lord has also decided that he doesn't want to wait for the Pendragon. He's going to try for her again."

"What?" Blaise exclaimed. "But we're not ready! None of us are anywhere near...if he found her, would you be able to keep her?"

"Not a chance. He'd have her from me in a minute. There's nothing I could do now to stand up to him; the only wizard who's a match for Voldemort is Dumbledore, and somehow I don't think he'll be willing to help us. We have to keep the Dark Lord from finding her until I'm in a position to fight him off."

Blaise eyed the pile of ash on the floor. "What's he going to do? The attack on Hogsmeade was a total failure."

"I don't know what he's planning. All Lucius says is that it's an attack Dumbledore won't be able to fight off without the Pendragon. I can't think of anything, though, that Dumbledore wouldn't be able to handle on his own."

"What are we going to do?"

"His instructions to me were clear. He wants me to keep an eye out three nights from now, and report back with her identity.' Draco sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. "Does he even realize how precipitous he's being? He's assuming Dumbledore knows who the Pendragon is, and that he'd ever risk her in a conflict before her powers are ready. An attack on the school has to be the most witless thing - "

"What's in the package?" Blaise interrupted.

Draco looked at the brown paper parcel that sat in his lap. Methodically, he undid the paper; Draco wasn't the sort who tore into gifts. Inside the package was a cloak of silvery gray, fluid material. His eyes widened. "An invisibility cloak!"

"Wow!" Blaise exclaimed enviously. "I don't suppose you'd let me have a go with it?"

"Not a chance," he answered, letting the material flow between his fingers. It was wonderful. The Dark Lord could be generous indeed, when it suited him. Draco had always been jealous of Potter's invisibility cloak, and was very pleased to finally have one of his own.

"Why'd he give you one of those?"

"I imagine it's so I can watch the attack without being observed. I'll be able to see the Pendragon and then report her identity back to him."

"Will you?"

"Of course not," Draco snapped. "I'll have to say that I couldn't pick her out in the fray, or that Dumbledore kept her safely locked up."

Blaise frowned. "Do you have any idea who she is? If we knew and the Dark Lord didn't, that could be a serious tactical advantage."

Blaise was right, Draco knew. It was nothing that he hadn't thought himself, after all. "I have an idea who it is."

"That's wonderful!"

"No, it's really not. Let's think about this logically. First, we have Screwtape. She's thicker than...some very thick thing. If she were the most powerful mage of modern times, she'd earn better marks. Next, we have Avery. It's not her."

"How do you know?"

"Her blood is red."

Blaise blinked. "When did you see her blood?"

Draco gave a nonchalant shrug. "A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell, my friend. Avery is loyal to me; she wasn't hard to convince."

"But - "

"I had to know," Draco said sharply, "and blood was the best way to tell."

Blaise looked slightly ill, but didn't question Draco further on that score. There were some things he was better off not knowing, some details he'd rather not be privy to. "That leaves Ginny Weasley."

Draco nodded grimly. "It makes sense. For one thing, Weasley's the only girl in this school who's anywhere near as smart as I am. I don't mean Granger book smart. For another, according to Shannon, she's been withdrawn lately, always seeming preoccupied with something. And Shannon also tells me that Miss Weasley has been spending a lot of time alone with Potter, who's the Pendragon's other protector."

"She could just be going off with Potter to snog," Blaise offered hopefully.

Draco shook his head. "She's snogging some Ravenclaw. I saw them at it in a hallway last week. If she's going off with Potter, it's not because she's snogging him. Gryffindors are disgustingly constant that way. Unfaithfulness goes against their priggish code of honor."

"If it's Weasley we'll never get within ten miles of her," Blaise predicted. "Dumbledore will see to that. The second he thinks you're getting close, he'll put her underground somewhere and we'll never find her."

"That problem has been taken care of." Draco quickly sketched in the details of his bargain with Delia Silvermoon. Blaise was suitably impressed, but would not be dissuaded from the matter at hand.

"What are you going to do?"

Draco was silent for a moment, running his palm over the smooth surface of his new cloak. "I'm going to keep a careful eye on Weasley in three nights' time, and then I'm going to tell the Dark Lord that I didn't see a thing. Two humiliations at Dumbledore's hands will be enough; he won't try for a third."

* * * * *

Ria bounded into the sixth years' dorm. Gwen sat on the stool in front of the mirror and Shannon stood behind her, practicing the charms in the hair book Ginny had gotten for Christmas. "What are you doing back so early?" Gwen asked. "I thought you and Ginny were going to meet Mike Fletcher."

Shannon got one good look at Ria's face and dropped her wand, crossing the room. "What's wrong?" She put her arm around her friend and guided her over to her bed. "What's happened?"

Gwen and Shannon took seats on either side of their friend, concern evident on their faces. Ria told them, "We ran into a Dementor."

Gwen's eyes widened. "Where's Ginny?"

"She's fine. Don't look like that, you two. She's okay, but the Dementor made her faint so Dumbledore took her to the hospital wing for some chocolate."

Shannon reached over to the nightstand and rummaged through the drawer, coming up with a few sweets. "You should have a bit too."

"Dumbledore already gave me some."

"Have some more then." Shannon wasn't in a frame of mind to argue. A Dementor in the school! She'd never heard of anything so insane, and resolved to write her parents right away and let them know that two of her closest friends had been put into danger. That thought made her realize; Draco would probably want to know that Ginny was in the hospital wing. He'd asked her to keep an eye on her roommate, and Shannon thought it was a small price to pay in exchange for semi-regular published columns in the Daily Prophet. He'd explained why, of course, and she found the entire idea ludicrous, to say the least. Ginny, the Pendragon? But if it meant she could keep writing, Shannon was more than happy to keep an eye on her friend. Someone needed to, that much was obvious, if Ginny was going to be running into monsters and who knows what else.

"Are you sure you're all right?" Gwen asked. "You look awful."

Ria gave a shaky laugh. "Not as awful as Ginny did. But she'll be here soon; Dumbledore promised she'd be back by the end of the night."

"What did it do?" Shannon asked.

"It was a Dementor, Shannon. It brought us flowers." Shannon frowned and Ria amended, "It made us relive our worst memories. Ginny's worst memories are a sight worse than most people's, you know?"

"Did you shoot a Patronus at it? Did it come at you?"

Ria made a face at the questions and popped another sweet in her mouth. "No, and no. It was all the way down at the end of the hall; Minister Fudge brought it as a bodyguard. When he left, it left."

Gwen shuddered. "You're lucky Professor Dumbledore was there."

"Yeah," Ria agreed. "He gave me chocolate and then told me to come back up here while he took Ginny to the hospital wing."

Shannon gave Ria a quick hug. "I'm glad you're okay." She picked her wand up from the floor and started for the door.

"Where are you going, then?" Gwen asked. "You have someplace more important to be than with your friend who's just been attacked by a monster?"

"I wasn't attacked," Ria corrected. "Just...affected a bit."

"There you go," Shannon said. "She wasn't attacked, and she and Ginny are fine. I'm going up to the Owlery to send a letter to my parents, telling them about this. My mum is on the board of governors, you know. They'll set Fudge straight on those things not being allowed in the school." The Owlery was one of her destinations, anyway. But first, she'd go to the dungeons and fill Draco in on Ginny's misadventure.

When Shannon was gone, Gwen and Ria looked at each other in silence. "Don't mind her," Gwen offered. "She likes to feel useful. Whenever she puts her mind to a cause, she has to always be doing something."

"I know," Ria said. "I've lived with her just as long as you have."

Gwen flushed. "Right. Sorry. I don't think there's anything in the etiquette books on what to talk about with your friend who's just had a near miss with a Dementor."

Ria flopped onto her back. "It wasn't a near miss. It wasn't even near, since Dumbledore was there the whole time." She gave Gwen a small smile then. "But thanks for worrying."

"Anytime." Gwen eyed the lone remaining chocolate. "Are you going to eat that?"

"Not if you want it."

Gwen unwrapped the sweet and popped it in her mouth, closing her eyes in pleasure. "Shannon gets them imported from Germany, you know. You can't buy anything this good in Hogsmeade. Ria, are you sure you're okay?"

Ria sat up. "Maybe we should go to the hospital wing and make sure she's all right. I don't want her there by herself. She was in a pretty bad way."

"But Dumbledore sent you back here. He's with her, I'm sure. He won't like you leaving the tower if he's told you to stay." Gwen cast her eyes around the room for something to occupy her edgy friend. The book of hair charms was right out. "Has Ginny taught you to play Monopoly yet?"

"What?"

"The game Mike gave her for Christmas. We played last week when you were in detention."

Gwen fished the box out from under Ginny's bed and passed it to Ria, whose eyes lit up. "She doesn't need to teach me, Gwen. It's a Muggle game. Did you like it?"

"Too much counting for my taste," Gwen said, wrinkling her nose. "But Shannon took care of my numbers, and when I didn't have to worry about percents and things it was fun. Do you want to play?"

Ria didn't, really. But Gwen was trying her best to distract her from worrying about Ginny, and maybe it would help. "Will I have to do your counting for you?"

"If you would. But I'll roll the dice myself."

Ria couldn't help but laugh at that. "I get to be the thimble."

* * * * *

Ginny sipped her hot chocolate. She didn't want it, really. Sweet drinks weren't to her taste. She was still cold from the Dementor, however, so Dumbledore had insisted. The chocolate did help quite a bit; she felt comfortable warmth spreading through her veins all the way to her toes. "What are you going to do about Minister Fudge?"

Dumbledore spread his hands. "What can I do?"

She frowned. "You can go to the Ministry and do a Finite Incantatum. You can find out who did this to him. I bet it happened at the Malfoys' Christmas party. Shannon Cannon was there; she told me who was on the guest list. It was all Ministry officials and Death Eaters."

"There's nothing I can do," the Headmaster replied. "If I went to the Ministry right now, there's no way I'd be allowed in to see him."

"What about waiting outside his house?" Ginny asked desperately. "Or at a restaurant? Or in Diagon Alley? There has to be a way to fix him."

"There isn't," Dumbledore said firmly. "I fell out of favor three years ago; I'm no longer welcome in political circles, and I can't get an audience with the Minister just because I ask for one." He regarded her silently for a moment, and then said, "If they've gotten to the Minister of Magic, there's no telling what's next. Do you realize that, Ginny?"

She nodded, mute. Dumbledore continued, "I didn't want to bring this up again. I had planned on waiting for you to come to me, giving you time to get used to the idea. It seemed like the least I could do. That's not an option anymore, though. I need to talk to you about going into Auror training."

Ginny drained the rest of her chocolate and set the cup on his desk. "No."

He folded his hands and gazed at her over his glasses. She met his eyes without looking away. "No what?"

"No, I won't go into Auror training next year. For one thing, becoming a part time student would mean I couldn't be Head Girl."

"No, you couldn't," Dumbledore confirmed, "but one never knows who will be Head Girl and Boy ahead of time."

Ginny snorted. "Who else were you going to choose then?"

He inclined his head. "It would've been you, in all likelihood. But there are more important things at stake than whether or not you get to wear a badge on your robes next year."

"That's true," she acknowledged. "Lots of things are more important than that. Like my freedom to choose my life."

"You don't have that freedom anymore," Dumbledore said gently. He was on thin ice. "You haven't ever had it, really. I'm not the one who took it away; destiny did. Blame me if you must, but don't condemn the wizarding world to fight Voldemort without your protection because you're angry with your circumstances."

She bristled. "That's not how it is. You're making me sound childish."

"Aren't you?"

Ginny clenched her hands together and tried to get a grip on her temper. Blowing up the Headmaster's office wouldn't help him see things her way. "No, I'm not. I want to be the one who controls my life. You're being unreasonable."

"I'm trying to help you do your job," he corrected. "Listen carefully, Ginny, because this is very important. Lives, and perhaps even our entire civilization, depend on your success. You need to master certain skills and be able to protect yourself. Auror training and field work are the only ways you're going to effectively prepare for what's coming."

"I don't want to," she insisted, wishing there was some other way she could say it. She sounded like a petulant child, even to her own ears. She didn't know the words, though, that would express to the Headmaster the deep panic that gripped her at the thought of relinquishing control of her life.

"It's rather obvious that you don't want to," Dumbledore said. "But you don't want to be the Pendragon either. There's nothing I can do about that. You are the Pendragon, and I'm going to make sure that you have every advantage in the coming battle, whether you like it or not." She looked up sharply, and he said, "I'm not going to insult your intelligence by pretending that you can refuse the training I've arranged. You can't. The arrangements have been made. I'd feel better, though, knowing that you were going into it voluntarily."

"This isn't fair."

"Life isn't fair."

"No!" she exclaimed. "You're not going to sit here spouting cheap platitudes at me. I'm learning the wandless magic, and I'm practicing with my link with Harry. There's nothing else you can ask from me. I'm not required to do anything just because you want me to."

Dumbledore looked disappointed. Despite her anger, Ginny felt her heart drop at his expression; no student, no Gryffindor especially, ever wanted to be the cause of that look. "Are you so proud, then?" he asked. "Are you so self centered that you can't see beyond your own wants to the greater good? Everyone is depending on you, Ginny. The Minister of Magic is under their control. You're the only one who can fix this, but first you have to learn how."

She was silent, simmering with impotent fury. She didn't know what she could say that would make him understand. "You're the most powerful wizard of our times. Voldemort is afraid of you. You can handle the fight on your own; you don't need me."

"I can't handle it on my own."

Ginny's eyes widened, startled. She sensed that this was not a confession he made lightly or, indeed, would have made to anyone but her. "What do you mean you can't handle it? You're Albus Dumbledore. You...you have your own chocolate frog card! You defeated Grindelwald."

"I'm losing ground," he said, the words drilling into her head. "The attack on Hogsmeade is proof of that." He hesitated, but decided that she needed to hear the full story. He didn't want her to fight him; he wanted her partnership in the coming struggle. "I think Voldemort is getting help from somewhere."

"What kind of help?"

"I don't know. His reach has increased of late. The Death Eaters never should've been able to come so close to the school. Voldemort has found a power source stronger than almost anything I have."

"Almost anything? Then fight him with the thing you have that's strong enough to defeat him."

"That's you."

Ginny flinched inwardly. She should've seen that one coming. "Where is his power coming from? Don't you have any idea at all?"

"I have a vague idea. You'll probably be better able to tell than I." The Headmaster walked over to a black cabinet against the wall and pulled out a stone basin covered with runes. Its contents shone with a silvery light; Ginny leaned closer and saw the bowl's swirling contents. It looked like a cloud. "Do you know what a Pensieve is?" She nodded, and he continued, "This is my Pensieve. There's something I'm going to show you that's going to be hard to see, but I have to know if there's anything you can tell me. Are you willing to help?"

The swirling fog made her dizzy. Ginny swallowed hard and nodded. Instinctively, she bent down until her nose hovered just above the surface of the Pensieve, then she fell in. From far above, she saw the ground hurtling closer. She threw up her hands and tried to cry out, but couldn't make any noise. The grass moved toward her with astonishing speed; and then with a gentle bump she landed. Dumbledore stood before her, and held out his hand to help her stand. Once on her feet, Ginny took in her surroundings. They stood beside a hill, in a sparsely wooded area. It was late afternoon, and the sun sat low in the sky. Dried leaves crunched under her feet. Ginny's eyes flew to Dumbledore's; she knew exactly where they were. This was where they'd found Moody's body.

"Take me back," she said, her voice low and urgent. She did not want to be here, did not want to see what the Headmaster was going to show her.

He shook his head. "I need you to look, and tell me what you think is going on. You've been to the Otherworld; you've spoken face to face with the Mórrígan. Maybe you can tell me something that I can't find in books or scrolls."

Ginny took a deep breath. She didn't want to face what she knew was on the other side of that hill. Dumbledore kept his eyes on her, though, and the intensity of his gaze pushed her forward. Her steps crushed the dry fall leaves into the ground. The breeze whipped her robes, and she hugged herself to ward off the chill. From the top of the rise, she saw a group of people standing around a yew tree. There were seven: six in torn black robes, one tall, with silvery hair and robes of rich blue. It was what Dumbledore had been wearing when he left with the Aurors. Snatches of their conversation floated to her ears on the breeze. "Those monsters - " "How could they?" "What does this mean?" And then the Headmaster's voice, low and sad, "I don't know." Ginny's chest felt tight; it was hard to breathe. How could Dumbledore not know? How could he not be able to fix it?

She started down the hill, gravity making her go rather faster than she'd have liked. Her heart pounded in her ears; even though she was in a memory, it was all too real. She could smell death; it was a sick, sweet-sour scent that stung the insides of her nostrils and made her eyes water. Mundungus wept for his friend, and Sirius quietly led him away. Their absence left a gap in the circle of Aurors, and Ginny made out the silhouette of a swinging form. As she got closer, she heard Lupin say, his voice harsh with grief and the sense of failure, "Let's cut him down."

Her stomach churning, Ginny forced herself to look. And then she screamed. The adults moved around, not seeing or hearing her, not coming to her aid, and she stood there, the shrieks ripping from her throat, rough and primal. Moody hung from the tree; the purple rope burns around his neck a sharp contrast to the terrible pale of his skin. Voldemort had gauged runes in his cheeks; the dark, angry looking symbols were stark against the ghastly white of his scarred face. He had almost no blood left in him; it seemed that all of it had spilled upon the ground. The dark wizards had used it to paint a circle around the tree and the body in it, and the trunk of the tree was covered with runes, also painted in the deep red-brown of Moody's life. They had torn his stomach open; his entrails hung to the ground in long purple strings; the grass beneath his dangling feet was drenched with blood and bile. Ginny dropped to her knees; her throat closed up and she gagged, cursing herself for weakness. None of the Aurors had fallen at the sight; she would force herself to be as strong as they were.

A hand dropped to her shoulder and squeezed. Ginny grasped it, closing her fingers around the old, papery skin, grateful for the warmth and the connection with life. "Why?" she croaked.

"I don't know," Dumbledore replied. "The runes aren't ones I've ever seen. They can't be found, not even in the most ancient scrolls."

Ginny squeezed her eyes shut, but Moody was there behind her eyelids, swinging from the branch of a yew, the tree of death. She opened her eyes with a gasp and focused on the grass; looked intently at the twisted blades, dull brown and wilted with the cold weather. Grass was grass no matter where she was; at the Burrow or in Dumbledore's memory. It was familiar, and soothing. Plants always soothed her. The sameness of each blade had a hypnotic effect; eventually Ginny's breathing slowed and she no longer felt lightheaded. Dumbledore waited until she had calmed, and then said, "Look again."

Her eyes fixed on the ground, she shook her head. "I can't," she choked. "Please take me back."

"I'm sorry, Ginny." He truly sounded it. "But I have to ask you to look again. Look at what else is hanging on the tree."

"Take me back!" she cried.

"Look again." His voice was patient and sad.

Slowly, Ginny raised her eyes to the tree. While she had pondered the symmetry of grass, Lupin and two of the female Aurors had cut Moody down from the tree. Now he was stretched out on the ground. "What - "

"On the branch," Dumbledore directed.

A frayed length of rope dangled from the thick bough. Further down, as the branch grew slender, three birds hung by their necks. Like Moody, they had been brutally eviscerated. Ginny set her teeth, steeled her resolve, and stood. Shrugging Dumbledore's hand off her shoulder, she moved closer. With each step, the putrid stench of decay and blood grew stronger, until Ginny thought they might even have become part of herself, that she would never be able to wash it off. The grass inside the circle of blood was dead, blackened. It had been scorched. Ginny slipped on the slick red pool, but maintained her footing and took a closer look at the animals. They were crows. Three crows, sacrificed alongside Moody. With a strangled gasp, she spun around and saw Dumbledore looking at her, his expression unreadable. The only words she could manage were, "Take me back."

He reached out his hand, but instead of holding it she closed her fingers around his wrist. A whoosh, and then they were back in his office. He took a seat and motioned for her to do the same. Ginny remained standing. He asked, "Can you tell me anything about what you just saw?"

Her expression hardened. "I don't know what you were trying to prove just now, with that little display. Were you trying to show me that Dark Wizards are bad people? I already knew."

"Ginny - "

"Why did you have to show me that?" she asked, anguish evident in her eyes, although her voice was controlled.

"I didn't do it to provoke a reaction," Dumbledore said, rising and crossing the room to stand in front of her. "Please believe that I would never do that to you. But I think this is a clue as to where Voldemort is getting his extra powers, and I need to know if there's anything you can tell me about what you just saw. Anything I might have missed."

As he had done in the Pensieve, Dumbledore reached out to put a comforting hand on her shoulder. Ginny jerked away. "Don't touch me. Just...don't. There's nothing I can tell you. I've been to the Otherworld, but I don't know anything about it. Nobody does."

Dumbledore nodded. "The next time you're there, perhaps you should inform Mórrígan of what you saw today. Maybe she could tell us something." Ginny nodded, and Dumbledore said, "Now that you've seen the inhumanity these people are capable of, why wouldn't you want to train your powers to fight them?"

"That's not the point." She backed away, heading for the door. She had to get out of this room.

"It is the point," Dumbledore said. "I need you to think about what they did to Alastor Moody."

Ginny gave a bitter laugh. "I doubt I'll be able to think of anything else. Goodbye, Professor." Then she was gone.