The Rebirth

Epilogue Part One

Year One—1998

January:

"You showed him the ring?" Dumbledore asked incredulously.

"It was the only way he was going to let us up to see you," Ginny replied, defensive of her decision.

"He'll have to be obliviated," the Headmaster declared. Snape sat in the chair next to Ginny and watched the scene play out, his face betraying none of his thoughts on the matter.

"Is that your decision for everything? Just obliviate anyone who gets in the way of your plans? You're acting like a Slytherin!" She glanced at Snape. "No offense."

Snape said sharply, "Miss Weasley, mind your tone. Show the Headmaster proper respect."

"I'll speak to the Headmaster any way I damn well want to," Ginny snapped, "especially when I'm trying to keep your memory intact, Professor."

Snape opened his mouth to deliver a blistering retort but Ginny spoke first, once again addressing Dumbledore. "I wasn't in a position to stop you from obliviating my brother and Hermione, but I'm not going to let you do it to Professor Snape. It's wrong."

"Ginny," Dumbledore said, tenting his fingers, "he's a double agent, spying against Voldemort. If he were discovered, the Dark Lord could learn your identity."

"Memory charms can be broken," Ginny pointed out. "Remember Bertha Jorkins?"

"Nevertheless—"

"I trust Professor Snape," she interrupted. "I've seen inside of him, and I trust him with my life. Do you trust him with my life, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore was silent for a moment, studying the girl who glared at him with a mutinously stubborn set to her chin. "I suggest we hear Severus's opinion."

Snape was surprised to be asked. He was used to following orders, in not having a say in what happened. He turned to look at Ginny; he never thought he'd see the day when one of those damnable Weasley siblings would leap to his defense. He said stiffly, "You trust me with your life, but do you trust me with the lives of your family and friends? Because that's what's at stake. Not your life, but theirs." He pulled up his left sleeve to reveal his mark, livid red against the pale of his skin. The skull and snake—Tom had very nearly burned this brand into her arm. Ginny repressed a shudder as Snape continued, "Look at that mark, at what I was, and tell me if you can trust me with the lives of the people you love."

Ginny saw the guilt in him, the anger and bitter recrimination that weighted down his soul. Here was a man sorely in need of redemption. He wasn't asking Ginny Weasley for her trust; he was asking the Pendragon. She raised her eyes to his and said firmly and without hesitation, "Yes I can."

It wasn't the answer Snape had expected to hear. He looked back at Dumbledore, letting his sleeve fall back to his wrist. "I believe you have my answer."

Dumbledore tried once more. "Ginny—"

"Professor Snape would die before he'd say a word about me. Leave his memory alone."

The Headmaster looked at them both, an odd alliance if there ever was one, and said merely, "Very well."

Ginny could hardly believe he'd given in. She flashed them both a relieved smile. "You won't be sorry."

"I'm sure I won't," Dumbledore agreed, his eyes twinkling kindly. Having Ginny leap so vehemently to his defense had done Severus a world of good; that much was plain to anyone with eyes. "Doesn't the Gryffindor team have Quidditch practice in an hour?"

She looked at her watch, and then jumped up from her chair. "Oh! I have to go! Seamus, Ria, and I were supposed to go over some new formations before practice." She grabbed her schoolbag and nodded goodbye to both men before disappearing through the door.

Snape sighed. "I hope she doesn't ever regret her choice."

Dumbledore conjured up two snifters of brandy. "She's the Pendragon, Severus," he said with a smile. "If she's not a good judge of character, who is?"

* * * * *

March:

Harry and Ginny sat across the desk from the official from the Auror division. He was a stern looking man who was completely unimpressed at meeting the famous Harry Potter and downright annoyed at learning that the other recruit was a mere sixteen years old—much younger than the regulation age limit. Still, Albus Dumbledore had insisted upon her, and Albus Dumbledore had pull. He glanced through the students' files and then looked up at them. The boy nearly burst with nervous excitement. The girl looked tense, as though she wanted nothing more than to run from the room. She didn't want to be there, that was obvious.

"I assume the Headmaster has filled you in on the arrangements for next year," he began. "Miss," he glanced at his file again, "Weasley, you will train three hours per day during the week, during the hours you would normally have Transfiguration and DADA. You will train on weekends as well. I believe travel arrangements have been made...yes, here it is. You will go by floo, as you're not yet old enough for an Apparation license."

Ginny nodded. This man thought she wouldn't last, because she was so young. She'd prove him wrong. She might not want to be an Auror, but now that she was going to be, Ginny was determined to show that she could be just as good at it as Harry, and the other people from his class who had signed up with the division—Ron, Seamus, and Justin Finch-Fletchley, to name a few. As the youngest person and the only girl in her training class, Ginny would have to work twice as hard to prove herself.

"Well," the agent said, opening one last file, "I believe we've covered all the information except, of course, your code names."

Harry perked up at this. He'd been looking forward to getting a code name ever since Ron had received his, Agent Hermes. Ginny had teased him for being named after Percy's owl, but Harry thought it fit Ron—clever, good at strategy, quick-witted. He was eager to see what the Ministry had decided to name him.

The Auror looked at Ginny first. "Your code name will be Agent Jezebel."

Ginny was dumbfounded. "That's a terrible code name."

He fixed her with a stern look. "It's an excellent code name. Jezebel was a great, powerful pagan queen in the Jewish scriptures."

"Jezebel was eaten by dogs." At Harry's quizzical look, Ginny explained, "I read a lot." Then she turned back to the Auror"Can I have another name please?"

"Each code name is specifically chosen for the agent in question," the Auror said, irritated that she would even ask. This one was going to be trouble; he could tell already. "Once a name is assigned, it is final." Ginny sank back in her chair, a sulky look on her face, and the agent turned to Harry. "Mr. Potter, your code name is Agent Midas."

Harry couldn't help but be pleased. "He's the one who judged the ancient Greeks after they died, right?"

"No," Ginny said, unsuccessfully stifling a smile. "That's Minos. Midas was the bloke who wished that everything he touched would turn into gold."

Well that was different, to be named after a greedy man rather than a wise one. Harry sat back in his chair, his expression no less disgruntled than Ginny's had been. She sensed his thoughts through the link and nudged his foot with hers to get his attention. "It's a fitting name for the Wizarding World's golden boy, and it's lots better than mine."

That was certainly true. Harry gave her a small smile and the agent cleared his throat. "You two will report to the Auror division the first week in June; the first three months will involve rigorous physical and procedural training. Then you will have an examination to determine your strengths. Upon completion of the exam, you will be sorted into one of the division's subdepartments—for example, you could become a strategic planner, a field agent, an incarceration specialist, or one of any number of jobs. This will be followed by eight months of specialization training, where you will develop your skills in your assigned area. Any questions?" Both students shook their heads no, and the agent gathered up his things and left without another word. He wanted to get back to the office; talking to these children had wasted enough of his time already.

Once alone, Harry turned to Ginny and asked, "Have you told your friends about all this yet? Because if you haven't, it would be a good idea."

Ginny nodded. "I told them a few weeks ago that I'd be a part-time student next year so that I could go through Auror training. When they asked why, I said it was because I want to start work right away after finishing school, to help support my parents. Everyone knows my family hasn't got any money; they bought it without question."

"Even Ria?"

"Of course," Ginny said with a bitter smile. "Ria is my best friend. She knows I would never lie to her."

* * * * *

July:

Ginny faced her opponent. Seamus grinned at her from across the floor, but then Agent Bloom, their hand-to-hand combat trainer, blew his whistle and her friend's good-natured smile disappeared. They circled each other cautiously, each one looking for an opening. Seamus feinted, but Ginny didn't rise to the bait. His second lunge at her was genuine; she ducked low and threw her shoulder into his pelvis. Seamus tumbled over her head and landed on his stomach. He flipped onto his back and Ginny, who was still standing, planted her foot on his throat before he could rise.

Gasping for air, Seamus grabbed her bent knee and pulled. Ginny crashed face-first into the floor but rolled quickly. He scrambled on top of her and pinned her arms above her head, only then allowing himself another grin. "I win."

Ginny brought her knee crashing up into his groin. When he released his hold on her wrists and doubled up in pain, she rolled from beneath him and jumped to her feet. "I win." That was the third time she'd beaten Seamus with a well-placed knee

Agent Bloom blew his whistle. "Match to Jezebel. Take a seat, O'Darby."

Ginny helped Seamus up and watched him limp off the floor. She turned to the rest of her training class and asked, "Who's next?"

"Next we'll have Agent Tyr and Agent Hermes."

"But," Ron said, "Ginny won the match. She gets the next fight."

"Let's give Jezebel a bit of a rest," Bloom said gently. "That was a tiring bout she just had."

"It was barely thirty seconds long," Ginny said. "I'm fine." The boy trainees fought until they lost, but Bloom always insisted on giving Ginny a rest—it was infuriating. Moreso because Harry, Ron, and Seamus were the only ones in her combat class who ever stood up for her.

The trainer gave her a paternalistic smile. "Why don't you have a seat, Jezebel. You can have another go in a few minutes."

Ginny seethed, but what could she do? She was just about to step off the training floor, though, when Harry spoke up. "Agent Bloom, in Jezebel's last bout I noticed that she tends to drop her right shoulder when in the ready position. Maybe you should show her how to do it properly. An agent with your kind of fighting experience, after all...."

"Good thinking, Midas," Bloom said. "Jezebel, come back here a moment."

Ginny shot Harry a grateful smile and trotted back to the center of the floor. Bloom moved behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders. Sure enough, her right was lower than her left. "Keep your weight evenly distributed," he instructed, speaking slowly as though he thought she might have trouble understanding his words. "Midas is correct; you're leaning to the right. It puts you off balance." The trainer moved around in front of her and dropped into the ready position. "You see, when you lean to one side, you're easier to knock down."

He swung at her, and Ginny ducked beneath his arm. On her way up, she landed a stunning blow to his chin, snapping his head back. He recovered quickly and let loose with two quick punches, the second knocking Ginny right off her feet. She fell to the floor, in a world of pain. Still, it had been worth it to hit him right in his smug, sexist face. She couldn't help but grin as she ran her tongue over her teeth to make sure none had been knocked loose.

"What are you smiling at?" Bloom snapped. "Your stance is all wrong. You're never going to cut it in this division unless you fix your mistakes."

She pushed herself to her feet and faced the teacher. "It won't happen again, sir," she said through her bruised lip, which was beginning to swell. "Shall we have another go?" Ginny dropped back into her fighting pose, legs bent, arms up. She made sure her weight was evenly distributed and faced the trainer.

"No," he snapped. "Go have a seat, Jezebel."

"But I won the last bout," she protested.

"One hundred pushups for insubordination, and then have a seat. I'll call you up when I think you're ready to fight again, and not a moment sooner. Now get out of my sight."

Ginny looked at him for a long moment, and then turned and stepped off of the raised fighting mat. Ron looked mad enough to spit nails, but Harry gave her a sympathetic look. "Thanks," she whispered to him as she walked by.

"Anytime," he murmured back.

Ginny went into the corner and dropped down into the pushup position as Ron and Justin began their bout. Fifty pushups later her arms were burning, but she still grinned ear to ear. She'd been dying to punch Bloom for the past month; given the chance to do it over again, she wouldn't change a thing.

* * * * *

August:

Ron and Ginny walked through the division's offices, neither one speaking. They were both as nervous as hell. Today was the day they would get the results from their evaluations, assigning them to a department within the division. Harry was already there, reading a sheet of orange paper. He turned and smiled when he saw them. "I'm a field agent."

"Well done, Harry," Ron said. "That's right up our alley, isn't it, what with all the things we got up to at school."

Ginny rifled through the envelopes until she found hers and Ron's, right next to each other. She tore hers open and saw that her sheet was also orange. "I'm a field agent too," she said, scanning the short letter that reported the strengths and weaknesses brought out by the division's grueling exams.

"Excellent, Gin," Ron said, grinning as he opened his own scores. His sheet, however, was blue. He frowned as he scanned the evaluation. "I've been assigned to strategic planning."

"That's great," Ginny said, giving him a big smile. He was disappointed, she knew, and she wanted to cheer him up before he said something he'd regret later. "It's perfect for you; you're so good at chess. You'll be able to outthink Death Eaters with no problem."

"Still," Ron said, crumpling his letter, "it's hardly what you two are going to be doing, is it? You'll be in the thick of it while I'm sitting behind a desk somewhere."

Seamus waved at them from across the office. The sheet he clutched in his hand was orange. Ron gave an exasperated sigh. "Seamus took nearly two months to win a bout, and he gets sent to the field?"

"He's not so good at hand-to-hand," Harry pointed out, "but he was great at dueling."

You're not helping, Ginny silently admonished.

Ron looked more annoyed than ever. "I wonder if I can put in for a transfer."

Andrew Shepherd, another recruit in their class, strolled up. "Hey, Hermes, a blue letter! I've got one too!" He brandished his assignment proudly. "Excellent; we'll be working together."

"It's not like we'll be in the field," Ron said glumly. "We'll probably never even see a Death Eater."

Andrew clapped him on the back. "Come on, mate. We'll be the ones telling those orange-sheeted blokes what to do. The strategists are the ones who give the orders; the grunts in the field department just follow them."

Ron's scowl slid from his face as he considered this information. The idea that, for once in his life, he'd be the one in charge was very attractive. "I'll see you next month at training, then," he said to Andrew.

The other strategist grinned. "I'll be there."

As he walked away, Ginny excused herself from her brother and Harry and jogged after him, weaving her way through the crowd of trainees waiting for their assignments. "That was fantastic," she said as she caught up to him. "Thanks for cheering him up."

Andrew turned and grinned at her, his teeth flashing white against his black skin. "It was no problem. I like Ron, but I know how he can be."

"Ginny Weasley," she said, "Agent Jezebel."

"Right," he said, shaking her hand. "The girl." At her sudden frown, he laughed. "Don't take it personally. It's just that you're the only girl here. I could've just as easily said 'the young one.' Listen, do you want to get something to eat?"

"I'm sorry, I can't," Ginny said. Andrew seemed very friendly, and she knew it would be a good idea to start making friends within the division. "I'm supposed to get lunch with my brother and Harry this afternoon. We're meeting Ron's girlfriend at Diagon Alley."

"Another time then?" he asked.

"Absolutely."

Andrew smiled at her once more. "I'll hold you to that, Ginny Weasley Agent Jezebel." He pushed open the door to the hall and left the office.

I'd rather you'd been assigned to strategic planning too, Harry said in her mind. I don't like the idea of you running all over the place, chasing after Dark Wizards.

Fieldwork is the whole reason Dumbledore put me in this program, Ginny pointed out as Ron and Harry joined her at the door. He'll be thrilled.

Are you thrilled? Harry asked.

Ginny didn't answer. She smiled at her brother instead, and chatted with him all the way out to the fireplace in the lobby, which they used to floo to the Leaky Cauldron.

* * * * *

September:

Seamus used the floo network to get to Hogsmeade; after the Dementor attack Dumbledore had so extended the wards around the school and village that apparition was impossible within a ten-mile radius. He tumbled out of the fireplace in the Three Broomsticks, newly reopened, and looked around. The students were just starting to trickle in, laughing and talking. Seamus scanned the crowd for Dana, but didn't see her yet. She was late.

He wandered over to the bar, thinking to get the drinks before she arrived, and spotted Harry sitting at the other end, sipping a mug of Butterbeer. Seamus grinned and called out to his friend, crossing the room to talk to him. "What are you doing here?" Harry asked.

"Hogsmeade weekend. I'm meeting Dana."

Harry grinned and licked the foam off of his upper lip. "So you two are still together?"

"She's not sick of me yet," Seamus said, turning away to place his order. "How about you? What are you doing here? It's going to be all kids this afternoon."

"My flat is just up the street," Harry explained, scanning the pub's growing crowd. "I got thirsty, and since it's my day off, I figured 'Why not?'"

Seamus eyed his friend. "You're here looking for Ginny Weasley." It wasn't a question.

Harry's cheeks turned pink in the dim light. "Is it that obvious?"

"The way you followed Cho Chang around for a solid two years...let's just say it was a lucky guess." Madame Rosmerta brought Seamus's drinks over and he dug around in his pocket for money. "Can I give you some advice?" Harry nodded and Seamus said, "Girls don't like to be stalked."

Harry laughed uncomfortably. "I'm not stalking her."

"Okay, girls don't like to be followed. Trust me on this one. Did you ever get anywhere with Cho?"

"That might have been because I was indirectly responsible for the death of her boyfriend."

Seamus rolled his eyes. "No one with any sense believes that. All the same, trust me on this. Back off a little. Let Ginny see what she's missing by not having you around all the time. You see her at training every day. That's enough, don't you think?"

"You're telling me to play hard to get."

"Exactly."

"That's a stupid idea, Seamus."

Just then, a red-haired girl barreled through the crowd and hurled herself at Seamus. He laughed and put his arms around her waist, spinning her around. "You missed me, then?"

"Yes," Dana answered. "That's a stupid question."

"That's twice in five seconds that I've been called stupid. Do you want the Butterbeer or not?" She nodded, and Seamus continued, "Then you'd better be nice to me. I have to take it from Potter, I don't need it from you too."

Dana's expression darkened as she glanced at Harry. "Has he been—"

"It's okay," Seamus said, wanting to head her off before she did something rash, like pulling her wand on Harry. "You don't need to defend my honor this time. He's very sorry for what he said, and now he's going to take my advice and go home."

Harry drained the last of his drink and hopped off of his chair. "Right then. I'm off. Have fun, you two."

"You're doing the right thing, mate," Seamus said, clapping Harry on the back. "I'll see you Monday."

As soon as he was gone, Dana took her mug in one hand and slipped her other into Seamus's, pulling him over to an empty table. "How's your training going?" she asked. "Tell me everything."

Over her shoulder, Seamus saw Ginny enter the pub, hand in hand with Mike Fletcher. He was glad Harry had gone home; that wasn't something his friend would've wanted to see.

* * * * *

November:

Dana and Delia crept through the doors of the school and ran as quietly as possible across the grounds. It was night, but the moon rode high in the sky and lit their way. Their breath formed little clouds of condensation, but they both were warm under their winter cloaks. Rounding the corner of the broom shed, the twins leaned against the wall and gasped for breath. "This is as good a place as any," Delia said when she could finally talk. "The charm has to be performed outside during the full moon; we might as well do it here. This spot is out of sight from the castle."

Dana glanced around, her cheeks pink with cold. "What if someone comes by?"

"We'll tell them it's a Prefect matter and to mind their own business," Delia said, pulling the creased pieces of parchment from her pocket.

Dana grinned at her twin. "Brilliant plan, Dee. You should've been a Slytherin."

"Gods forbid," she retorted dryly. "All right, first thing we have to do is draw a circle in the dirt. Do you see a stick anywhere we can use?"

Dana glanced around, but Hagrid kept the Quidditch pitch spotless. "I don't see anything. Use your wand."

Delia frowned. "Be serious, Day. This is hard magic. You have to focus."

"All right," Dana said, "I'll use mine then." She bent down and touched her wand to the ground, then traced out a circle. Dirt churned up behind the wand's tip. When Dana finished, she grinned at her twin as she wiped the wood clean on her robes. "Next step?"

"Right. I'll go first. Watch carefully; you don't want to mess up when it's your turn."

Dana stepped out of the circle as her sister moved to the center. "Wait," Delia said, rushing to her twin. "Hold this. We don't need them for this step." Dana took her sister's wand and watched avidly as she returned to the middle of the ring of dirt.

Delia rolled up her sleeves and focused. This was the charm that would call the spirit of the animal she was to become; she was very excited to learn what it would be, but forced herself to take a deep breath and calm down. She couldn't rush this. Raising her hands to the moon, Delia pronounced the incantation very carefully; even a single mistake and the spell wouldn't work. "Terra, Aer, Aqua, Incendia. Effero bestia animus." Delia threw every bit of magical power she had into those words, calling on the four elements to bring forth an animal spirit for her. She threw her head back as the spell wound around her, her words replaying in her mind, echoing in her ears and swirling within the circle. Then, it was over. She put her hands down and looked at her sister, who stared, wide-eyed. "Did it work?"

Dana grinned in disbelief. "That was amazing, Dee. Let me try."

She hurried into the circle and Delia put a hand on her arm. "What animal?"

"You're an owl." Dana couldn't wait to do the charm herself, if Delia's results had been any indication.

Her sister nodded, a satisfied grin spreading across her face. "An owl. I can live with that."

"More than live with it, Dee. You'll be able to fly!"

Delia's smile grew even wider as she backed out of the circle. She thought she might burst with pride. This was one of the hardest transformations there was but she, Delia Silvermoon, was two thirds of the way finished. Most adult wizards couldn't have made it this far.

She watched avidly as her sister rolled up her sleeves and raised her arms to the moon, reciting the incantation. The words came out of Dana's mouth on a cloud of white breath which, instead of dispersing, grew and swirled around her, the pale smoke lifting and tangling in her hair and whipping her robes about her body. The cloud resolved itself into a shape—a dog? No, it was a wolf. The shadowy wolf hung suspended above Dana's head for a moment, and then slowly melted over her, the magical fog disappearing into her skin.

Dana lowered her head and looked at Delia, eyes wide. "Did I do it right? What was the animal?"

"You're a wolf, Day. That was amazing."

Dana nodded in satisfaction. "A wolf...not bad. Now all we have to do is destroy the evidence, and then we can go back." She began scuffing out their magic circle, and Delia joined in.

When they finished, Delia told her sister, "The last step is the actual Transfiguration. We won't be advanced enough in the subject until at least the middle of next year."

"I can hardly wait."

"Neither can I. I wonder if I'll have to learn to fly, or if it'll just come naturally?"

"I'm sure you'll get the hang of it one way or the other, Dee. You always do."

* * * * *

December:

Gwen eyed her newest Ravenclaw, Brian Southeby, from across the Great Hall and murmured to Ginny, "Do you want our dorm or theirs?"

"Sorry?" she asked, not having the faintest idea what her friend was talking about.

"Gin, it's Christmas holidays. You and I are the only ones in our dorm, and Brian and Mike Fletcher are the only ones in theirs. Now, if one of us goes to Ravenclaw tonight, and one of them comes to Gryffindor, it'll be a Happy Christmas for all."

"Gwen, you don't mean—"

"Gin, please?" Gwen said, in a tone that was dangerously close to whining. "Brian and I never get to be alone. This is our one chance. All you have to do is make yourself scarce for a night."

"Can't you just go to the Astronomy Tower like normal people?"

"Usually," Gwen said with a sly smile. "But this is a golden opportunity. Come on. You've known Mike your whole life, and you've been snogging him for more than a year. It won't kill you to sleep in the same room as him for one night."

Ginny looked from her friend to the Ravenclaws across the room. She wondered what the boys would think if they knew what she and Gwen were talking about and then wondered if they might not be having a similar conversation. Dammit, why did she always have to blush so obviously? It was the curse of having red hair.

"Please?" Gwen asked, her wheedling tone telling Ginny that her friend wasn't going to let up until she got the answer she wanted.

"All right," she said. "I'll even take the Ravenclaw dorm, if you want. But stay off my bed."

"You're the best! Happy Christmas!" Gwen kissed Ginny's cheek and then rushed off and pulled Brian away from Mike. The two of them didn't waste any time leaving the hall.

Ginny couldn't stop blushing. She'd never felt awkward or embarrassed in front of Mike before, but she was making up for it now. He strolled over to her, the familiar smile on his face putting her at ease somewhat. "Could they be any more obvious?"

She laughed. "I guess not. Gwen said they're hardly ever alone, but she's always sneaking off to see him so I don't know what she's complaining about."

"She probably meant that they're never alone with the benefit of a bed and no interruptions." Ginny flushed even more intensely at his mention of beds, and Mike grinned, dropping a kiss on the tip of her nose. "It was nice of you to give them a night together. She'll owe you forever."

"Don't talk like a Slytherin," Ginny admonished, standing on tiptoes to kiss the corner of Mike's mouth.

He looked down at her; his blue eyes glinting with a light she didn't quite recognize. It brought her blush back full-force. Then, the moment was over. Mike laughed and slid his arm around her waist. "Come on," he said. "It's hours till bedtime yet. Let's go do something fun."

* * * * *

Ginny sat on Mike's blue comforter and looked at the game board with joy approaching disbelief. Every property he owned was mortgaged, and he had just landed on a railroad. She owned all four. For the first time ever, Ginny had beaten him at Monopoly.

"You win," he said with a smile.

"Too right I win." She couldn't keep the grin from her face. "And now you owe me a forfeit."

"Do I?"

"You said after that first game that your forfeit would be lots better than a kiss in a dusty classroom. I've been waiting ages to find out what you meant."

Mike leaned across the board until his mouth was a mere whisper from hers. "Then I shouldn't keep you waiting any longer, should I?"

He leaned in and kissed her, lightly at first, but then more deeply. Ginny tumbled backwards, Mike's pillow cushioning her head, and he came down on top of her. The game pieces scattered; deeds, play money, and plastic hotels were swept to the floor, quickly followed by the board. Ginny floated along pleasantly; Mike really was very good at this, and she appreciated his talents immensely. Tangling her fingers in his straight, light brown hair, Ginny sighed with pleasure and contentment. This was much better than a kiss in a dusty classroom, without a doubt.

Mike's mouth grew more insistent against hers, and his hands moved over her body, teasing a groan out of her. He was slightly clumsy, a bit nervous, but more than made up for it with his enthusiasm. When he began slipping open the buttons on her shirt, however, Ginny broke off the kiss and looked up at him in surprise. "What—"

He dropped his head and pressed a kiss to the spot where her neck met her shoulder. "I'm paying my forfeit, Gin." Raising up his head and grinning at her, he said, "A gentleman always honors his debts."

Ginny tried to think, but she couldn't quite manage it. It felt so damn good to be laying on this soft bed, with Mike's warm body on top of her and his mouth and hands making her feel...there was no reason for her not to just seize the moment and enjoy it. Goddess knew that she'd had very little happiness in the past year; she deserved a bit of fun. "Have you done this before?"

Mike nuzzled her cheek with his nose. "A few times."

"A few?"

"Okay, once. Over the summer. You?"

"No." She hoped her being a virgin wouldn't scare him off. Some boys were strange about that, she knew from listening to Gwen.

He grinned and gave her a smacking kiss on the mouth. "A first-timer? Excellent. We'll train you up in no time."

"Like you're an expert," she said, tracing her lips over his earlobe.

"Hey, Gin, what's this?" he asked curiously, lifting the clear ring from where it rested on her breastbone.

She cringed inwardly; she'd forgotten all about that stupid thing. "I picked it up in a Muggle junk shop last time I was at Diagon Alley," she said. "The store owner said it's made of glass."

He studied it a moment more and then set it back down on her skin. "The etchings are amazing. It's a wonder how Muggles do it without magic, don't you think?"

Ginny nodded, and wrapped her arms around him again. She was nervous, and figured she might as well be honest about it. "Mike? What if I'm not any good at this?"

"Um...in that case we'll just have to practice until you get it right."

She laughed at that, and he picked up his wand from the nightstand and used it to slide the bedcurtains closed.

* * * * *

Year Two—1999

March:

Ginny sat in the common room, watching Shannon do her DADA homework. Ginny missed having the class; Professor Figg had been her favorite teacher. The ex-Auror's gruff exterior camouflaged her kind heart and wicked sense of humor. Ginny swung her feet as her eyes wandered around the room; she spotted a day-old issue of The Daily Prophet sitting on an end table and Accioed it over.

Idly scanning the articles, Ginny stopped on the editorial page when her friend's name caught her eye. "Squib Birth on the Rise?" was the headline, and the article, which Ginny read with dawning anger, discussed an alleged increase in squib births, placing the blame solely on the Muggle and half-Muggle born members of the Wizarding community. "Shannon," Ginny asked, her voice slightly choked, "what the hell is this?"

She threw the paper across the table and Shannon picked it up and scanned the page. "Oh," she said, her face lighting up, "it's my latest column. What do you think?"

"What do I think? I can't believe you actually wrote it! Ria and Gwen are part Muggle. What would they say if they saw this trash?"

"Relax, Gin," Shannon said, tossing the paper back onto the table. "The statistics are reliable. Not even Ria could find fault with the logic."

"That's not an excuse," Ginny said, staring at her friend in dismay. "You can't just go printing things like that. It only adds to the prejudice against people of Muggle ancestry."

"It's a newspaper," Shannon pointed out. "They're never going to be able to agree with everyone on everything. If I wrote nothing but, 'Oxygen is good,' and 'I like six Galleons better than five Galleons,' then nobody would read my column and I'd get hate mail from helium-breathing, socialist readers."

Ginny wondered if maybe Shannon had lost her mind. "So you wrote it for shock value? Is that what you're saying?"

"I wrote it to get people thinking. In a few decades, we might be facing a population crisis. If the inflammatory tone of my article gets people talking about the problem, then I've accomplished what I set out to do." Ginny tried to wrap her mind around that statement, and Shannon shut her book. "I'm sick of homework. Let's find Gwen and Ria. Maybe they'll be up for sneaking to the kitchens for a midnight snack." She got up and went for the girls' stairs. Ginny sat a moment longer and then followed, unsure what to think of her friend's rationalizations.

* * * * *

June:

Shannon leaned against the dungeon wall, across from the door. The stone walls and floor were damp; she could feel the wetness seeping through the back of her robes. Torches burned in brackets along the wall. Draco leaned nonchalantly against the opposite wall and watched her. "You knew this would happen after you left school."

"I know," she said, fidgeting with her robes. "It's just...is You-Know-Who really in there?"

Draco nodded slowly.

"How do you know for sure?"

He laughed at that. "Shannon, this is my house. I know who's here and who's not."

"It's just that—"

"Look, the only way you're going to affect any change is from within the system. The mark is necessary. You have to gain his trust before you can help bring him down."

"And you have one?"

He nodded, but didn't offer to show her.

"Does it hurt?"

"No. You won't feel a thing."

"You're sure?"

"I promise."

Just then, the wooden door creaked open and Blaise poked his head out. "Shannon, he's ready to see you."

She gave Draco a tremulous smile, and then followed Blaise inside. The door shut, and thirty seconds later Shannon's scream of unholy pain echoed off the dungeon walls. Draco grinned. It was done; she was tied to his cause permanently. There was no way she'd be able to go about her business in regular society now that she wore Voldemort's brand. Draco was her only way out.

* * * * *

October:

Dana walked down the main staircase, on her way to Herbology with the rest of the Slytherin sixth years. As she turned to listen to something Portia was saying, the great doors to the castle flew open and five people stumbled in. They looked like they'd been through a war zone; their robes were torn and most were bleeding with varying degrees of severity. She picked out a distinctive red ponytail, the Auror's face and hair streaked and blackened with soot and dirt. Dana's first thought was to make sure Ginny was all right. As she started down the stairs, though, she caught sight of something that made her heart stop.

There weren't five Aurors, there were six. One was being carried. Two steps closer, and she recognized the sixth—her bookbag went flying as she started down the stairs at a run yelling, "Get Madame Pomfrey!"

A second year Hufflepuff, seeing the Prefect badge glittering on her robes, sprinted off towards the hospital wing.

Reaching the bottom of the staircase, Dana raced across the floor, dropping to her knees where they had laid him down. "Seamus," she whispered, the word choking in her throat. He caked with dirt and bleeding profusely from a wound in his chest. Dana pressed her hands to the hole, hoping to stem the flow of blood, but it was no good. His robes and skin were warm and sticky and wet; his life seeped out onto the floor, onto her.

Someone, she only vaguely registered that it was Ginny, put a hand on her shoulder. "Dana," she swallowed hard, "Dana it's too late. He's lost too much blood. I'm sorry."

Seamus' eyes flickered open and Dana insisted, "No it's not. No, it's not! He's awake. Madame Pomfrey just needs to hurry."

"I knew we'd make it back," Seamus said in a rough voice, "Dana, love, be strong please." He closed his eyes and let out a shuddering breath, then stilled.

"No," Dana whispered, "no, Seamus, please wake up." Harry pulled her off the ground as Madame Pomfrey came running up, but it only took her a moment to confirm that he was dead.

"I must inform the Headmaster," she said in a choked voice.

Dana wrested herself out of Harry's grasp to kneel by Seamus' body, "What happened?" she asked, surprised that she could speak calmly.

Ron drew in a deep breath and explained, "We got a tip that someone on our list was hiding out in one of the caves near the village. We expected resistance, which is why they pulled me to be there." His eyes seemed glued to the motionless figure on the floor. Seamus was dead. Seamus wouldn't ever laugh again, or get trounced in a hand-to-hand bout, or play Chaser in a pickup game of Quidditch.

He almost didn't hear her. "What happened?"

The words felt like they were being wrenched from his soul, "We were ambushed. It's like they were expecting us; we were outnumbered by at least...I'm not sure how we got away." He didn't notice the tensing of Dana's shoulders as the words came tumbling out of his mouth. "They were on us before we got within a hundred feet of the cave. We lost three, Dana. It's a miracle the rest of us made it to the castle."

Dana looked up at the redhead standing next to her. He almost recoiled from the suppressed hatred that shone from her diamond-hard gray eyes. "A name, Weasley. I want a name." Unshed tears glittered in the light from the open doors.

Now Ron did take a step back, the air around Dana was practically crackling with radiating power and he didn't want to be anywhere near her when she let it go. "We don't have one. We barely escaped with our lives; there was no way we could've captured any for questioning." He had no idea why he was telling her this; it was classified information and he was sure it was against the rules, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. The words flowed from his mind and out his mouth before he could censor them.

Ginny, however, knew exactly what was happening. Dana didn't realize it, but she was using her Otherworldly power to pull the answers out of Ron's head. She stepped in before the Slytherin could draw out anything else that Ron wasn't supposed to tell. "Dana, we were set up. There were just too many. If any one of us could've died to save him, we would've."

Dana didn't look up; "Really?" she asked coldly. "How come, then, you don't have a scratch on you, Ginny? These people all look like they've stood up to the worst the Death Eaters can give, and you're just a little bit dirty."

Ginny ignored the fact that Dana had just all but called her a coward; she could see the girl's devastation, and knew the Slytherin would regret her words later. She dropped her hand back on Dana's shoulder and squeezed, sending a small calming charm into the other girl. It wouldn't help much, but it was something to help her get a grip on herself. Ginny knew Dana wouldn't want to cry in front of this crowd of people.

Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey rushed into the entrance hall. The Headmaster took in the scene with a glance and then said, "Poppy, please take Seamus to the hospital wing. From there, we can arrange transport back to the division." He looked old, and sad.

Ginny helped Dana to her feet as Seamus floated away on a stretcher; she was the only one who heard the girl's whispered vow, "I'll find them, Seamus, I promise. I'll find them and they will pay." When she raised her head, Ron thought she looked different. It was a couple of moments before he could pinpoint what had changed. Where he remembered warmth and happiness was a calculating, determined mask. Now, he realized, she looked like a Slytherin. He was unable to suppress the sudden shiver that went up his spine at the thought.

"The rest of you should get medical treatment as well," the Headmaster said. "The hospital wing is fully equipped to—"

Ginny shook her head. She was the ranking officer on this mission; she'd been promoted twice in three months to fill places left empty by Aurors who had been killed. The only one in her training class who matched her rise through division ranks was Harry, and he was one step below her. "We have to get back to the division." There was a mole somewhere; there had to be. She couldn't think of any other explanation for the day's fiasco.

Dumbledore said, "But not before your wounds are treated."

"No," Ginny insisted firmly, her tone brusque and unemotional. "Thank you for the offer, but we have to leave." One of her team looked to be in very bad shape, though. He would have to stay behind, even if the rest of them couldn't. "Agent Zalba, floo would only aggravate your shoulder. Have Madame Pomfrey fix you up, and then come back as soon as you're able. Dana, would you show him the way?" Dana would want to stay with Seamus as long as possible; this would give her the chance.

The Slytherin nodded, her eyes dazed but the set of her shoulders determined, and motioned to the Agent to follow her. Dumbledore took note of the fact that Ginny was giving orders in his school, but he didn't comment.

As the Aurors turned and walked from the castle Harry said, Are you all right?

Ginny sighed, an exhausted, miserable sound. I'm trying to think what I'm going to say to Seamus's parents.

* * * * *

Draco was sitting as his desk when Blaise walked in, a huge smile on his face. Draco looked up at him for a moment before turning back the papers in front of him. After a minute he snapped, "What do you want?"

Blaise leaned forward eagerly, "You remember Finnigan?"

"Finnigan," Draco mused for a moment before he looked up sharply, eyes wide. "You mean Seamus Finnigan?"

"Yes."

"What about him?"

"We don't have to worry about him anymore," Blaise said. After all of Draco's complaints about the sandy-haired Auror—that Finnigan was the only thing standing in between Draco and recruiting Dana Silvermoon—Blaise thought his friend would be pleased. "I arranged an ambush, using Death Eaters from outside the faction. McNair took him out."

Steel gray eyes pinned Blaise into place, "Took him out? What do you mean? Is he captured, injured?" Draco could certainly use Finnigan if he'd been captured, but he needed confirmation from Blaise before making any plans.

Blaise shook his head, "No, McNair was certain he'd killed him. The Aurors had taken off for Hogwarts when the Dark Lord's people left."

"What?" Draco roared, "Do you realize what you've just done?"

"I don't understand," Blaise protested, confused. "I thought this was what you wanted."

"You thought wrong," Draco snarled. "Get out!" Blaise didn't wait for him to repeat the order. He bolted from the room.

Draco sat back in his chair, thinking furiously. Damn! There was no way now that they would be able to convince Dana Silvermoon to join them. McNair and Blaise had certainly seen to that. He made a fist and pounded the arm of his chair in frustration. A golden opportunity, completely wasted!

All that could be hoped for now was that Dana wouldn't decide to make a full commitment to Dumbledore's side. Dana Silvermoon as an Auror bent on vengeance would make a formidable opponent. He sat back in his chair and brooded for almost an hour before returning to his work.

* * * * *

Ginny walked purposefully through the halls of the Ministry and stopped in front of one that read, "Department of Magical Games and Sports." She pushed it open and saw a bustling, cheerful office. It was nothing like the tense, serious atmosphere in the Auror division. "Excuse me," she asked a passing witch. "Can you tell me where Maria Johnson's desk is?"

"Gin!" Ria called from across the room. "I'm just getting ready to go home. What are you—you're a mess!"

Ginny rubbed her cheek and a streak of black soot came off. "It was a rough day at work."

Her friend picked up her bag and hurried across the room, shepherding Ginny out the door. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Later." If she told Ria about Seamus now, her friend would be in no frame of mind for going along with Ginny's idea. "We have somewhere to be."

Ria jogged after Ginny. "Where are we going?"

"I'm getting a tattoo," she said, "and you're keeping me company. Unless you'd like to have one as well. Solidarity and all that."

"Wait. Hang on." Ria grabbed Ginny's arm and pulled her to a halt. "I might just be a magical sports underling, but even I know that Aurors aren't allowed to have any distinguishing marks. You can't have a tattoo; it'll make you easy to identify."

Ginny resumed her walk. "That's the idea. I've only been with the division as a full-fledged Auror for six months, but I've already brought in two Dark Wizards on my own, and helped with one more. I'm good at this job, and given time, the Death Eaters will notice. I want to be identifiable. When they're coming at us from all sides, I want them to see some kind of identifying mark and know that it's Agent Jezebel they're up against, and maybe they'll realize that I'm the one who's had two and a half captures her first six months on the job, and maybe they'll think twice about ambushing us and—"

"Ginny, what the hell happened today?" Ria demanded. "Are you all right?"

Ginny took a deep breath to steady her pounding heart. "I'm fine. I'll tell you about it later. Are you coming or not?"

Ria was concerned. "Yeah, I'm coming."

"Good."

Ria tried to make conversation as she jogged after her friend. "I think I'll get a Snitch on my shoulder. I've always wanted one of those. How about you?"

"I haven't decided yet."

* * * * *

November:

Draco woke slowly, feeling very warm and satiated. Alicia Avery lay beside him, her limbs tangled with his and her sooty black hair spread across his pillow. Last night had been fun. He leaned over and blew softly in her ear, and her eyes fluttered open. "Stop that! I was asleep."

He gave her a wicked grin. "But you're not anymore, are you?"

"No."

"Mission accomplished, then."

There was a knock at the door, and Draco gave an exasperated sigh. "Who is it?"

"It's Blaise," his friend called from the hallway, "and Andrea Tocco. It's important."

Draco sighed. "Fine. Come in." Alicia just barely managed to cover herself with the sheets before the two Death Eaters entered the room.

Tocco was a battered mess. "What happened to you?" Draco asked.

"Jezebel," Blaise said. The one word was enough to make Draco curse a blue streak. Ordinarily he'd praise to heaven an Auror who could capture four Dark Wizards in seven months—any blow against Voldemort was a blow for him, after all. But three of them had the bad luck to be members of his faction. Draco's numbers were small enough at the moment; he didn't need some Ministry bint depleting the few followers he'd managed to recruit. And always the morning after a capture, the Prophet's headline would trumpet, "Agent Jezebel Strikes Again," or some other stupid catch phrase designed to rally the public and convince them that Death Eaters weren't so scary after all, as long as they had the Auror division to protect them.

"Were any lost?" Alicia said urgently.

Tocco nodded. "Two of the Dark Lord's, and one of ours. I got away."

"You're telling me she took three Death Eaters in one night? All by herself? And you're sure it was Agent Jezebel?"

"It's what the others called her. There were four Aurors total. But, Draco, you'll never guess what."

"Then don't make me guess," he said sardonically. "Just spit it out."

"She has a tattoo."

This made him take notice. "You must be joking."

Tocco shook her head. "A silver sword, on her right hip. She had on low-slung pants and it was right there, plain as anything. If we tell everyone to watch for the tattoo, we'll learn her identity eventually."

"Can we find out anything about her from our mole in the division?" Alicia suggested. "The sooner we stop her, the better."

"Our only spy is in the surveillance department," Blaise said. "They don't have anything to do with field agents. He doesn't know a thing."

Draco listened to them a moment more and then interrupted. "She has to be stopped; that's all there is to it. Blaise, inform everyone, even the ones who are loyal to Voldemort, that Agent Jezebel has a tattoo. Get Tocco to describe it in detail, so everyone will know exactly what to look for. Tell them to keep an eye out in stores and restaurants, at work at the Ministry, anywhere a witch might be. I don't know what she could've been thinking, but she's signed her own death warrant. Oh, and Blaise," he called as his friend turned to leave, "tell them to take her alive. The bitch has gotten five of my people; I want to be the one to end her."

* * * * *

December:

Dana and Delia took advantage of the deserted school, empty because of the Christmas holidays, to complete the last phase of their animagi transformations. Delia looked through her pages. "The Transfiguration part is last. Day, are you sure you're up to it?" Her voice held no sarcasm, only concern. "This is a really complicated spell, and if it's not done exactly right, you'll be in a world of trouble."

"I'm fine," her sister said dully. "I can do it."

"Because if you can't, you can tell me," Delia said gently. "I know it's been hard for you these past few months, and I know that you're capable of doing it. It's just...you might not be able to right now, because you're sad."

"I'm not sad, Dee. I'm grieving. There's a difference. See, Natalie MacDonald loaned me this Muggle book about what makes people act the way they do. There are these stages you're supposed to go through when someone dies, if you're a healthy person. First is denial, then anger. After anger comes bargaining, where you ask the gods to give you the person back in exchange for something. Then there's depression, and acceptance."

"And I guess it's too much to hope that you've reached acceptance already?" Delia asked tentatively.

"I'm permanently lodged in anger," Dana snarled. "All I can think about is hunting down the person who did this and...hey, Dee, do you know how to do the killing curse?"

"Of course not!" her twin exclaimed indignantly. "Why would you even ask that? You're the Slytherin. You should know. Or if you don't, I'm sure someone in your house can teach you."

"I'll have to ask around," Dana said. "It should be useful for when I find the person who murdered Seamus."

Delia folded the sheets and stuck them back in her pocket. "That settles it. We're doing this another time. You're freaking me out."

"No, Dee, we're ready to do it now, so let's do it."

"Then quit acting like a Slytherin."

"I am a Slytherin, a fact everyone seems to have forgotten. I'd never ask you to stop acting like a Ravenclaw."

"No," Delia said with a faint smile. "You'd never do that. Listen, Day, if there were anything I could do to make you feel better, to...help you deal with this, you'd tell me, right?"

Dana nodded; her eyes bright with unshed tears. "Day," Delia asked quietly, "have you even cried yet? I asked Tinamiya what happened that afternoon, and she said that you didn't cry. It's important that you let your feelings out...you can't just keep them inside."

"Depression is stage four," Dana said, her voice unusually flat. "I'm only on stage two. I'm not scheduled to be sad for a while yet."

"I know you wouldn't want to cry in front of people," Delia pressed on, "but I'm not people, Day. You don't have to watch yourself around me." She walked over and put her arms around her twin. Dana held herself stiffly for a moment, and then her face crumpled and she broke down and sobbed for the first time in three months.

Once the torrent passed, Dana wiped her eyes and gave her twin a weak smile. "Thanks, Dee. I needed that."

Delia nodded. "I know you did. Shall we do this another time?"

"No," Dana insisted. "Now is fine. I've been studying for this for the past year; I'm ready. Seamus," she choked a bit on the name, but pressed on, "Seamus wouldn't want me to put it off. He'd want me to do the things I would've done even if he hadn't been..."

One crying fit from her sister was all Delia felt she could handle, so she broke in before Dana could set herself off again. "All right. Do you want to go first or should I?"

Dana wiped her nose on the sleeve of her robe. "Let's go together."

The sisters spread apart and faced each other across the room. They focused on the way Transfiguration magic felt, focused on the animus of the animal called to them by the charm a year ago, pushed their magical energy into it, and pop!

The animagus transformation was a success. The owl faced the wolf, and then both sisters laughed. Not being human, it was an incredibly odd mixture of sounds. Another pop, and they were back to normal. Delia was ecstatic. Let's see them call her a mudblood now! She'd done the hardest spell known to Wizardkind. She and Day had proved themselves, without a doubt.

Dana switched back and forth several times, unable to contain her satisfaction. "It's so easy!" she marveled.

"Our Otherworldly power probably helps a lot," Delia observed. "Speaking of that, Day, I've been meaning to talk to you about something. I think it would be a good idea if you and I trained that power, and developed it. It's such a rare thing, we should really take advantage of it."

"I couldn't agree more," Dana said. "Now that this project is done, that'll be our next one." Delia sighed with relief; that had been easy. She'd held up her part of the bargain with Draco. But then her sister continued, and Delia wasn't so sure anymore. "They'll come in handy for when I'm an Auror, don't you think?"

Draco wasn't going to like that at all, Delia had a feeling. "You're going to be an Auror, Day?"

"Of course I am, just like Ginny," Dana replied as though it was obvious. "What better job is there? I'll get to hunt down the bastard who killed Seamus, and they'll pay me for it!"

"Oh," Delia said, not sure what kind of reaction her sister had been hoping for. "Well, that sounds like it suits your anger quite well." Maybe Dana would grow out of it, once she reached stage five.

Dana flipped from wolf to girl once more, and then smiled at her sister. "I really do feel a lot better. Thanks, Dee."

"You know you're welcome," Delia said, transforming a few times herself. Then her eyes lit up. "Day, let's go outside. I want to learn to fly."

Together, the sisters ran from the room.

* * * * *

Year Three—2000

September:

Ginny and Harry sat in the circular briefing room, looking at the detailed three dimensional model that floated in the center. Ron, Andrew, and two other Aurors from the Department of Strategic Planning paced around it, using their wands to point out the field agents' assigned positions. "Surveillance has obtained enough evidence that the Notts are involved in dark activities—they believe at least three family members have Dark Marks, maybe even more. They're considered highly dangerous, and won't hesitate to take hostages."

Ron took over for the more senior Auror"The strategic planning team will be stationed here," he pointed out a point of blue light an acceptable distance from the house, "giving orders through your transmitter charms. Everyone make sure to get one before we go in. The Department of Protective Spells and Charms has brewed a new batch of the Camouflage potion as well; you all are due for another dose. They'll be in here just as soon as we're done."

Andrew drew his wand. "Teams one and two will take the rear of the house." Two points of orange light flared at the back of the model. "Team three will take the front. Surveillance said that there's a secret passage that starts in their cellar and comes out here," a fourth light brightened, and then dimmed, "near the river. Team four will stand guard there, in case the Notts use it to get away. As always, take them alive. You never know what kind of information they'll turn over, if it means a shorter term in Azkaban."

Briefing over, the surveillance team left for their offices to prepare for the raid. Wizards and Witches from the Protective Spells department came in, hauling two large cauldrons on wheeled carts. "Step right up," a plump wizard said cheerfully. "Everyone gets a dose."

Ginny stood in line with Harry, behind Mundungus Fletcher. They chatted idly, anything to avoid thinking about the approaching raid. Ginny couldn't understand Harry, or any of the other Aurors They actually looked forward to these things; there was a collective hush of anticipation and excitement before going out and hunting down Dark Wizards. Ginny only ever felt sick. Her stomach twisted in knots and she felt a cold fist of fear in her chest; she was good at this job, one of the best, but she hated it.

When she got up to the front of the line, Ginny held her nose and drained the dipper offered to her by the wizard. The Camouflage potion was one of the department's greatest inventions. It disguised the drinker, rather like Polyjuice. Whereas Polyjuice made the subject look like someone else, though, the Camouflage potion kept Aurors from looking like anyone. Their faces were completely unmemorable; no one who managed to glimpse one could recall it after. Ginny was grateful for the potion; it kept her family safe from retaliatory attacks. She always made sure to use a bit of her silver magic, though, to keep her tattoo uncovered. She might not want Dark Wizards to know that she was Ginny Weasley, but she wanted very much for them to realize that she was Agent Jezebel. She was building up quite a reputation.

Andrew and Ron walked among the teams of field agents, casting transmitter charms on their ears. "You all have your apparition coordinates?" Ron asked the room in general. The Aurors nodded. Ginny thought she might throw up.

Mundungus, the most senior Auror on the mission, gave the signal. As a whole, the roomful of people Disapparated.

* * * * *

Ginny ran and dodged through the flying curses. She looked frantically through the smoke and haze, nearly unable to distinguish Auror from Death Eater. Once again, it was as though they had been expected. The mole still hadn't been found. The four teams had apparated to find themselves outnumbered, and more Dark Wizards poured from the house. Through her transmitter charms, she could hear Andrew frantically calling out orders, and her brother yelling for reinforcements.

A knot of Death Eaters surrounded two Aurors from her team; they fought frantically, but were beginning to cave under the constant onslaught of hexes and curses that flew through the air, mingling with the screams and shouts of those who had fallen. Ginny clenched her teeth, gripped her wand, and charged at them, firing three stunners before anyone noticed her coming. All three found their mark, and the Death Eaters fell. Seeing that the odds had evened out somewhat, the Aurors rallied, firing off stunners of their own.

"It's Jezebel!" one of the Death Eaters cried, spotting Ginny's tattoo. She threw down her wand and held up her hands in surrender. Ginny's heart pounded; her nose stung with the acrid tang of sweat and blood. One by one, the other Death Eaters in the circle threw down their wands. Ginny clutched hers so tightly it began to slip against her damp palm, but she forced her voice to remain steady as she ordered, "Transport them."

Her fellow Aurors drew their incarceration Portkeys, specially designed to take someone directly to a holding cell at the division. As they pressed the small metal disks against the Death Eaters' skin, Ginny picked their wands up off the ground and snapped them in two.

A loud popping sound sounded through the haze, and Ginny turned to see that five new Auror squads had just arrived. Her brother had yelled himself hoarse, but had succeeded. And not a moment too soon. The fresh agents rushed into the fray, firing curses and hexes right and left. Ginny rallied and rejoined the fight, gaining the surrender of two more Dark Wizards before the rest, noticing their new opponents, Disapparated. The conflict was over.

Gradually, the deafening noise faded. Screams quieted to moans. As the smoke began to clear, Ginny found herself standing in the middle of a field of bodies. The area swarmed with Aurors, some leading away prisoners, others ennervating their fallen comrades. She joined in, once again tamping down nausea. It was over; there was nothing to be afraid of anymore. They had won the day.

She nearly tripped over a large man, half hidden in a tangle of underbrush and grass. "Ennervate." He didn't move. Ginny flipped him over and tried again. Still nothing. Ginny sank to the ground beside his body, too numb to really react.

From a few yards away, Harry spotted her tattoo and walked over. "Andrew has a preliminary count. We captured twenty, and lost ten."

She raised her eyes to his, her sight giving her no trouble seeing Harry's face through the Camouflage spell. "Make it eleven. I just found Mundungus."

* * * * *

Ginny knocked softly on the half-closed door to the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts department. "Come in," Mike's cheerful voice sang out. "Gin! Hi! I'm just on my way out; I hope it's not anything important. I...have you been to a bonfire? You smell like smoke."

Ginny shook her head. "There was a raid today."

He swung on his cloak and picked up his briefcase. "Then let me take you out to dinner so you can forget all about it." He leaned down and gave her a long kiss on the mouth, and then pulled back, wrinkling his nose. "We can even stop by my place before, so you can shower."

"Mike," Ginny said softly, "you'd better sit down. I have to tell you something."

"Can't it wait until after dinner?"

"No, it can't."

His grin faded ever so slightly. "You're not pregnant, are you?"

"Nothing like that. Just, you'd better sit down."

He sat, and then looked up at her expectantly. Ginny bit her lip. She'd given this speech nearly ten times in the past two years but it was different when the face looking back at her was Mike's. She felt herself at a loss, but pressed ahead. "There was a big raid today. We'd planned it for months, down to the last detail. Mike...we were ambushed. They were ready for us. We called in reinforcements and they helped before we could be completely overwhelmed, but there were several casualties."

"Mundungus?" he asked quietly, seeing where she was going. Ginny nodded. He sucked in a deep breath and asked, his voice laden with concern and something she couldn't quite identify, "Is he badly hurt? Did they send him to St. Mungo's? I should get there right away." He started to rise, but Ginny put her hand on his shoulder and stopped him. He read the truth in her face. "Oh no." His voice was hoarse as he sank back into the chair. "Gods...Gin, are you sure it was him? It could've been—"

"I'm sure." She sat on the arm of the chair and held him close. "I'm so sorry, Mike."

He leaned into her, but his sadness was too deep to cry. He felt numb. "I've hated him for so long," Mike murmured, sounding lost. "It's what he wanted, though. To go like this."

"He's finally with your mum," Ginny murmured, not knowing what to say. "He's happy, Mike, wherever he is."

"And that's all he cared about. He never gave a thought to me, and whether or not I'd be happy. Selfish bastard." His words were not said with anger, though, but with a vacant sort of anguish. Ginny didn't respond. It wasn't fair to speak ill of the dead.

Mike drew a shaky breath, and then asked, "How many did you lose today?"

"All told, twelve. Five dead, seven captured."

"I guess this means another promotion for you."

Again, Ginny didn't respond. Mike was trying to bait her, she thought, but she wouldn't play along. Misery loved company, but she wouldn't be dragged down with him. She was miserable enough on her own.

Mike pulled back and looked up at her. "Gin, I have to ask you something. I've thought about it before, but I just...I have to ask. Why don't you quit?"

"Sorry?"

"Being an Auror. You hate it; I can tell. You're a good witch, you're smart, and you would've been Head Girl if you hadn't gone off to training a year early. You could get a job in any other department. My father...I don't want the same thing happening to you."

"It won't, Mike," she said, looking in his eyes and pressing home her sincerity. "Nothing is going to happen to me. I'm not going to get hurt."

"You never know that."

"I do."

"You can't! I've put up with never knowing if you're coming back in one piece, and I've dealt with the change in you since you started working for the Aurors, but I just can't not say anything now. My father is dead. My mother is dead. Both of them, I lost to Death Eaters. Gin...you're my best friend. What if something happens to you? This job is dangerous. You're dying to get out. Why don't you?"

Ginny wanted more than anything to quit, to tell Mike that he wouldn't have to worry anymore, that she would get a nice, safe job in the sports department with Ria and live out the rest of her life, never putting herself at risk again. "I'm staying with the Division."

He gently disentangled himself from her arms and stood. "Then I'm sorry, Gin, but I just can't do this anymore."

"You can't?"

"It's not because you're an Auror; I'd never say a word if it was a career that you found fulfilling and made you happy. You know I wouldn't. I want you to be happy. And you're not, Gin, but you won't leave. I...you'll always be my friend, nothing will change that. It's just," he motioned vaguely to the space between them. "I can't do this anymore. I can't. Not when you insist on putting yourself at risk for something that you're not even sure you believe."

Ginny nodded slowly. "All right, if that's what you want."

Mike didn't know what reaction he'd been expecting, but that certainly wasn't it. She didn't cry, or give in, or even look particularly upset. There was only concern on her face, and in her voice. She asked, "Do you want me to go home with you? We can make dinner; you shouldn't be alone tonight. I'll sleep on the sofa."

He looked at her for a long moment; he'd be terribly lonely without Ginny in his life. It was true what he'd said—she was his best friend. It was tremendously comforting to know that he wouldn't lose her just because they weren't sleeping together anymore. "Yeah, that sounds good."

Ginny nodded and rose from the chair. He picked up his briefcase again and, not touching, they left the building together.

* * * * *

November:

Ginny landed in a heap in the center of Mórrígan's training camp. She pulled herself to her feet and brushed the dirt off of her clothes; as usual, the area was a hive of activity. Everyone ran back and forth, looking busy and purposeful. She had been through the routine often enough by now; she walked to the goddess's pavilion and retrieved her practice sword, then went to a dueling ring that Mórrígan had set aside especially for Ginny's practice.

The goddess was already there, waiting for her. Ginny vaulted over the fence, the cumbersome sword making the move clumsier than it otherwise would've been. Mórrígan wasted no time. She saluted Ginny with her own sword, and then attacked.

The blows rained down with bone-crushing force. Ginny gritted her teeth and concentrated on basic survival. Dueling with Mórrígan left no allowance for finesse. It was brutal. After three years, Ginny could best most of the people in the camp, but she had never even come close to beating the goddess.

Mórrígan pushed her back, until Ginny's was pressed against a fence post. Landing a blow just at the end of Mórrígan's downward stroke, Ginny managed to knock her sword out of the way long enough to duck another swing and scoot around behind the goddess, who whirled around and continued raining deadly blows. The point of the Mórrígan's sword slipped down Ginny's breastbone and curved around her rib, leaving a trail of white-hot pain in its wake. She sucked in a breath, but refused to show any kind of weakness. The goddess would eat her alive for it. If only her opponent wasn't so tall, she might stand a chance every now and then.

Still there was no denying the goddess's skill. Nearly three years had gone by since the day Ginny had received her first lesson, and she had yet to touch her opponent. Her blade had not connected with divine skin even once. Ginny knew she was improving, though. In the beginning, she could barely stay on her feet for more than a few seconds before Mórrígan disarmed her. Now, she could last up to twenty minutes, if it was a very good day. The sword's weight no longer seemed prohibitive; she could even move with a measure of grace and skill when up against an Otherworldly denizen. But Mórrígan always bested her thoroughly.

Her side bleeding in earnest, Ginny started to tire. She felt dizzy from the heat and blood loss, and her steps began to falter. The goddess saw her opening, and pressed in for the final stroke. A flick of her wrist, and Ginny's sword went flying. Mórrígan rested her blade on the young woman's shoulder, next to her neck. Ginny felt the razor-sharp point against her skin, felt it slide and cut, just a little. Only enough to punish for losing yet another match. The silver blood flowed, hot and wet, from the cut on her neck, down the front of her shirt to mingle with the blood from her side. It glistened in the sunlight.

"Three years, and you have yet to touch me," the goddess said with scorn. "What are you going to do when your life depends on your skills, Virginia? I could have killed you thousands of times over. Don't imagine for a moment that your enemies will be so benevolent."

She'd lost too much blood. Ginny dropped to her knees and fought to stay conscious. The goddess said scornfully, "Weakling." To Mórrígan, it was the very worst of insults.

A flick of the goddess's hand, and a woman ran up with a container of salve to treat Ginny's cuts. Just a few drops, and the wounds vanished as though they had never been. The Otherworldly doctor's eyes were sympathetic, although she dared not express any admiration for Ginny's skills in her queen's hearing. In truth, the Pendragon lasted longer against the goddess than any other in the camp ever had. But still, Mórrígan pressed Ginny to improve, and punished her for even the most minor of perceived failures.

Ginny slowly stood and walked over to retrieve her sword. Her shirt was quickly stiffening with dried blood, and there was a tremendous hole from her chest to her waist, where Mórrígan's sword had sliced. The shirttail hung by a few threads, barely attached in the front.

Walking back over to where the goddess waited, Ginny said, "There was another sacrifice."

"When?" Mórrígan demanded, her expression suddenly tense.

"Three nights ago. My division was called in for cleanup, in case the magic was toxic."

"And was it?"

Ginny retrieved her scabbard from the ground and slid her blade home. "You know it was. It was the same thing as all the other times. Three crows and a person, eviscerated and hung from a yew tree. The grass was still burned, there was still a bloody circle, and the runes were the same. It's a pattern sacrifice. What does it mean?"

"Next time you will have to actually try to beat me," Mórrígan said, handing her sword, stained with Ginny's shimmering blood, off to a retainer to be cleaned. "None of these filthy, halfhearted attempts."

"I've bled quarts all over the ground, trying to beat you. You think I'm not doing my best?"

"You're not. You can lie to yourself, Virginia, but you can not lie to me."

"What to these sacrifices mean?" Ginny repeated. "Because I don't know. You're the only one who can tell me."

"What it means," the goddess said, taking her sword back and sliding it into the sheath at her waist, "is that someone in your world is meddling with things beyond his control, and someday it will consume him. If you don't want your people to meet the same fate, you will stop fighting what's inside of you. It also means," she turned to leave the practice area, "that my people can expect another attack tonight."