Galatea

Chapter Nine

The Deathday Party

* * * * *

In the days of ancient Greece, there lived a sculptor named Pygmalion. Unimpressed with the local specimens of feminine beauty, he created a statue, formed in the image of his deepest desires. On the feast of the goddess Aphrodite, he asked her to send him a bride, but in his heart he longed for the marble of his creation. That day, the goddess brought the cold stone to life, a woman molded into a man’s ideal, born to fulfill another’s desires. Her name was Galatea.

* * * * *

Fearlessness is better than a faint heart for any man who puts his nose out of doors. The length of my life and the day of my death were fated long ago.

--The Prose Edda

* * * * *

With one last look around the room, she jumped down from the table.

Her feet landed on grass. She couldn't stop a cry of surprise and a few frantic heartbeats of fear before she realized that she was in the Otherworld. There were no people in sight. The sun filtered through the green canopy of leaves, falling to the ground in emerald streaks of shadow and light. Ginny heard the murmur of a brook nearby, and braced herself for what she knew awaited her there.

She walked past the trees and her eyes fixed immediately on the Mórrígan, the death crone, who knelt on the opposite riverbank, industriously washing a robe, a large pile of them already spread on the grass beside her. "I'm here," Ginny said.

Mórrígan looked up. Her red eyes burned with the fire of death, and Ginny could smell her stench of decay even from across the water. Mórrígan held up the garment she was washing. It was a black robe, made to fit someone unnaturally long and thin. Its front was slick with dark, red blood. Ginny's features hardened in determination, and she nodded.

Mórrígan had grabbed another garment, and dunked it beneath the river. She held it up for Ginny's inspection, and smiled. Water sluiced down the sodden fabric, mingling with the blood that soaked the front.

She gasped. She wanted to run, but her body was frozen.

Ginny’s feet landed on the stone floor of the Great Hall. Her knees buckled, and she pitched forward. Harry caught her before she could fall. She looked up at him and felt her heart constrict inside her chest with pure, primal fear.

The blood on the robe had been silver.

She was going to die.

“What is it?” Harry said. “What’s the matter?”

She straightened, stepped out of his hold, and tilted her chin at an arrogant, fearless angle. It was hard to keep her voice from shaking. “Are you afraid?”

Harry gave a confused half-smile. “Of what? Death Eaters? A little, I suppose. Everyone is.”

Ginny nodded. “Do you know why the Norsemen were so fearless in battle?" She didn't wait for his answer. "They were fearless because… cowardice wouldn't change it. I've always thought it was interesting. Because if they were fated to live through a battle, no amount of putting themselves in harm’s way could hurt them, and if they were fated to die, being afraid wouldn’t make any difference. You might as well go out with honor.”

Harry frowned, and began ushering her through the crowded hall, full of people organizing themselves into rescue parties. “This is a fascinating non sequitur, Ginny, but we have to hurry. The Dursleys don’t have much time.”

“I know,” she said, allowing him to pull her along. “I just…I just thought it was interesting; that’s all. The Norse weren’t afraid to die. You’re like that too, Harry.”

He looked over his shoulder at her, and pushed his glasses further up his nose. “Sorry?”

“You’re not ever afraid to die. It probably comes from facing death so many times when you were young, but you’re fearless, aren’t you? I’ve always admired that about you.” She stopped his walk and tipped her chin up, looked deeply into his eyes. “I’ve always admired you.”

“Gin, the Dursleys –”

“This is more important,” she said firmly. “The Dursleys will be fine for a few more minutes, and I have to tell you…you’re the best, bravest, kindest, most patient person I’ve ever met. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wished I could be like you. I missed you so much when I was gone, and I…I love you, Harry. There aren’t words to say how much.”

His eyes narrowed. “Virginia Weasley, what’s the matter with you?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, yes, you do. When you got here, you were furious with me. Now you’re telling me all this…what’s going on? What’s changed in the last fifteen minutes?”

She took a step back. The softness in her eyes was gone, replaced by flinty determination. “Nothing’s changed. We have to go. Please remember what I just said.”

Harry nodded, unable to shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong. He started after her, but someone in the crowd grabbed his arm. He turned and found himself face-to-face with Draco Malfoy. The Death Eater’s sleeves were still rolled up, displaying his Dark Mark to everyone in the hall. Unbearable hatred boiled up within Harry as he snarled, “What do you want?”

“You keep her safe,” Draco ordered. “Do you hear me? She had better be in one piece when she gets back, or I’ll hold you accountable.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “You’re giving me orders, Malfoy?” he said coolly. “You? That’s almost amusing, considering your link with the Pendragon is the only thing keeping you from being thrown in Azkaban with the rest of the filth who wear that mark.”

Harry glanced over at the Weasley rescue team. Dana stood a short distance away from Ron and Professor Figg. She was oblivious to them both; she stared hungrily at Harry and Draco. She was practically salivating. “Listen,” Harry said. “Watch Dana carefully. She tried to kill me at Mike’s flat. Don’t turn your back to her.”

Draco’s scowl melted into an expression of…was that anxiety? Harry hardly would’ve believed it. Draco said, “Delia hasn’t been herself either.” Then after a pause, he asked under his breath, “Why are you warning me? You’d be happy to see me dead; don’t pretend otherwise.”

“Do you have a brain in your head?” Harry demanded. “Balance, Malfoy. Without you, I don’t exist either.”

Draco looked interested. “Do you really think it works that way? If I die, you die?”

“Do you want to risk it? I don’t,” Harry shot back.

Forehead creased in concentration, Draco mulled that over.

“Look,” Harry said, pulling out of his grasp, “I can’t stand here and debate metaphysics. My aunt and uncle don’t have much time. Just be careful, all right? And bring the Weasleys back safely.” Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and jogged into the entrance hall to find Ginny.

* * * * *

There was a loud crack and Ginny stumbled out of the hearth. Harry followed a moment later.

“What was that noise?” a voice asked from the dining room.

“Just the fire,” said another voice, a man. “A log breaking or something.”

Beside her, Harry stiffened. “That’s my uncle,” he murmured.

“I remember,” she said. “He slammed a door in my face once.”

The clink of silverware on china dishes floated into the living room, and soft snippets of conversation drifted to their ears. “Bloody hell,” Harry muttered. “They have guests.” A mischievous grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Let’s go break it up.”

“After you,” Ginny said with a smirk.

He barged into the dining room, and she followed. All conversation stopped abruptly. One lady dropped her fork onto her plate, where it landed with a loud clang. Vernon Dursley stared, his mouth hanging open, full of food.

“So sorry to intrude, Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia,” Harry said smoothly, “but your dinner party is officially over.”

“Now see here,” a short, round man said, “you can’t just charge into a private home and…you are trespassing, young man.”

“This…” Petunia began. She shook her head to clear away the shock and started again, “This is my nephew.”

“Perhaps you didn’t hear me the first time,” Harry said. “You all have to go home.”

“You listen to me, boy,” Vernon thundered. “You can’t just barge in here and dismiss our guests. We washed our hands of you seven years ago.”

“I didn’t realize you had a cousin, Dudley,” said an elderly woman.

“I don’t,” Dudley grunted.

Harry’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “I’m obviously not making myself clear. My name is Harry Potter. This is my partner, Virginia Weasley. We require you to leave in the name of the law.”

“Police officers?” the elderly woman said, wide-eyed. “But what could you want with our dear Vernon and Petunia?”

“If you’re police officers,” another man said suspiciously, “then where are your handcuffs?”

“We…er…don’t carry them anymore,” Ginny said. “Too many accidents, you know.” She pulled her wand out of the thigh-holster and held it up for their inspection. Knowing exactly what it was, the Dursleys flinched. The rest of the guests leaned forward to inspect it. “This is standard issue now.”

“How does it work?” the elderly woman asked.

“Well, we get close to the criminals and then…um…smack them with it,” Ginny explained. “If you hit the right spot, you can cause temporary paralysis. No handcuffs necessary.”

“And that’s very interesting,” Harry said, “but you all have to go home now. An escaped mass murderer has been sighted in Little Whinging, and we have concrete evidence that he’s headed straight for this house.”

“A…mass murderer?” the round man said, looking considerably less puffed-up. “How are you going to fight off a mass murderer with that…that little stick thing?”

Harry said impatiently, “If you go home and turn on the television, you can see it on the news. But if you don’t want to die, I suggest you all leave. Immediately.”

The room hung, suspended, in a moment of silence, and then there was a stampede for the door. “Wait!” Petunia shrieked. “Danette! Adrienne! Joshua! Don’t go!” It was too late; but for Harry, Ginny, and the three Dursleys, the house was empty.

Ginny applauded. “Well done.”

Harry flashed her an appreciative look, then turned back to the Dursleys. “You have to come with us.”

“We don’t have to do anything, boy, except call the real police and have them cart you away for breaking and entering,” Vernon blustered.

“Listen to me,” Harry ordered. “The man…the thing that killed my parents is on its way here, and it’s going to kill you.”

“He’s probably lying,” Dudley said. He’d cleaned his own plate, and had moved on to a guest’s abandoned food.

“Look, you ungrateful Muggles,” Ginny said, “Harry and I are risking our lives to save yours. We didn’t have to come. We could’ve left you here for Lord Voldemort; goddess knows it’s what you would’ve done for us.”

Petunia’s ears perked up. “A Peer? Coming here?”

“Are they really this stupid, or are they pretending?” Ginny asked incredulously. Her eyes narrowed as she glared at Vernon. “A long time ago, I said I’d kill you all if I ever saw you again, for how you treated Harry. Here I am saving your lives instead. It hasn’t put me in a good mood.”

Harry aimed his wand and said, “You have two seconds to come willingly, or we’ll curse you and bring you anyway.”

Petunia’s shriek of “Kidnappers!” was drowned out by a deafening explosion of glass. Every window in the back of the house had shattered inward.

“Shit,” Harry muttered. “Too late.”

Ginny peeked around the corner of the door. She saw figures, cloaked in black robes, climbing in through the windows. “They’re in the kitchen.” She slammed the door shut and used her wand to cast a strong holding spell on it; it would be very difficult to break down. “Is there another fireplace in the house?”

“No,” Harry said. “Just in the living room. If we hold the Death Eaters off, the Dursleys might be able to get there before….”

“Death…Eaters?” Dudley squeaked.

“They’ll do a lot worse than give you a pig’s tail,” Harry said grimly.

Ginny reached for her pouch of Floo powder. “Listen carefully,” she said. “Each of you take a pinch of this. While Harry and I distract them, you’ll need to make a run for it. Get to the fireplace in the living room and then, one at a time, throw the powder into the flames, say “Hogwarts,” and then step through. The fire will be green; that’s normal. Keep your elbows tucked in and for god’s sake, don’t get out too early.”

“What?” Vernon asked, bewildered.

Ginny threw the door open. “Go!”

She and Harry ran for the back of the house. The Dursleys stood stock-still, until they saw the first hex rocket from a Death Eater’s wand and strike an ugly porcelain vase, melting it into a grotesque shape. Then, they fell all over each other, racing to the living room.

Ginny shouted “Expelliarmus!” A comet of light shot from her wand and slammed a Death Eater in the chest, ripping his wand from his hand and hurling him against the wall.

Harry gasped. He’d forgotten just how powerful she was when she had her wand. His hesitation cost him – a Death Eater fired a hex, and he only just managed to dodge it. The spell caught his sleeve, tearing his shirt and grazing his bicep. Pain shot down his arm until, in a flare of silver, the wound vanished. His gaze jerked to Ginny, and her eyes flashed back in a slight smile before she turned her whole attention back to the fight.

They’re still coming in! Ginny said. We need some kind of shield.

“Accio,” Harry shouted, and the kitchen table flipped onto its side and rocketed across the room, stopping only when it slammed into the doorframe. He dove behind it, and she followed. It would provide cover for them, while blocking the hallway, keeping the Death Eaters out of the rest of the house.

Good thinking.

I do my best, he answered, firing a hex over the top of the makeshift barrier.

Ginny sent a Death Eater crashing through the window with a well-timed curse as Harry shouted, “Petrificus Totalus!” knocking two Death Eaters down at once.

Ginny grabbed the collar of his shirt and jerked him back just as a hex slammed into the table, right where his hand had been sticking out. Do you think the Dursleys are gone yet? Because if they are, there’s no point to us hanging around.

Harry looked over his shoulder, down the hall, as Ginny fired another hex over the top of the table. She ducked as an answering spell sailed over her head. I don’t know, he said. You tell me.

Ginny tilted her head and struggled to hear the symphony in the back of her mind, tried to shut out the Death Eaters, Harry, and the small battle being waged in the Dursleys’ kitchen. There’s still one left. He’s not moving. I don’t know….

Harry looked back again, down the hall, and pushed his glasses up his nose. Maybe he needs help.

Ginny grinned. After you.

He took a deep breath, jumped up, and ran for the living room. She followed, covering his back, shooting hexes and shielding spells just as fast as she could to keep the Death Eaters from following them. In the living room, Dudley stood before the hearth, quivering. “For Christ’s sake!” Ginny said, taking up a station at the door, so she could continue firing curses down the hall. “What’s wrong with you?”

“M-m-mum and dad went into the fireplace, a-a-and they j-j-just disappeared!” he stammered.

“That’s what’s supposed to happen, idiot,” Ginny snapped. “Hurry up and get through so we can leave.”

They heard the wooden table-barrier smash, and heavy footfalls started down the hall. Harry made a frustrated sound. “We don’t have time for this.” He grabbed a pinch of powder from the pouch at his belt and shouted “Hogwarts!” and then, without warning, shoved Dudley into the flames. His cousin’s cry vanished in a roar of green fire.

“Go on through,” Ginny said. “I’ll stay and close up the Floo connection so they can’t follow you, and then Apparate.”

Harry nodded. If you’re not standing in the Entrance Hall in seven seconds, I’m coming back. He stepped into the fireplace, and was gone in an instant.

Ginny backed away from the door and called up a tongue of the silver flame to wall the Dursleys’ fireplace off from the Floo network. She Disapparated just as the first Death Eater stepped into the living room.

* * * * *

Ginny Apparated in the Entrance Hall just as Harry stepped out of the fireplace. The room was pandemonium – people were either leaving or arriving through every fireplace, and first and second years scuttled around underfoot, leading Muggles into the Great Hall or to the rooms the third, fourth, and fifth years had prepared. She looked over to where Vernon and Petunia stood, their arms thrown around Dudley, cooing and petting his hair. Their arms couldn’t reach all the way around him. She grimaced. Disgusting. “It’s good to see you made it through all right,” she said to them.

Vernon rounded on her. “Where are we? Where have you sent us? Who are all these people?”

“You’re at St. Brutus’s Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys,” Harry said. “Otherwise known as Hogwarts Castle. It’s where I went to school.”

Petunia perked up. “A castle?”

“Yes,” Ginny said. “Someone will be along in a minute to show you to your room.”

“A room?” Vernon asked, puffing out his chest. “We require a suite of rooms, young lady. Do you have any idea who we are?”

Ginny raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“We are Vernon and Petunia Dursley, aunt and uncle to Harry Potter, and we demand the best rooms in this castle. I know you recognize the name; the letter left on our doorstep with him explained everything. He’s a hero to you people. He’s a celebrity.”

Harry’s mouth dropped open in outrage. Ginny smiled. It was not a nice smile. “I know exactly who you are, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley. You slammed a door in my face once, when I came to your house to pick Harry up for school. I’m perfectly aware that you’re his aunt and uncle and I’ll personally see that you’re given the treatment you deserve. Sirius!” she called to the man hurrying by. She turned back to the Dursleys. “This is Sirius Black, Harry’s godfather. I’m sure there’s a dirty, cramped cupboard under a staircase that should do nicely for the three of you. Sirius, please see that the Dursleys’ accommodations are as uncomfortable as possible.”

“My pleasure,” Sirius said with a nasty grin. Harry laughed.

“But…but,” Dudley sputtered.

“You might want to have his stuttering problem looked at,” Ginny said to Petunia. “We have an excellent mediwitch on staff.” She turned away without another word.

Harry followed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so deliberately rude.”

“There’s never been anyone I’ve disliked quite so much,” she countered. If she only had a few hours left, she didn’t want to waste precious time being nice to people like the Dursleys.

“Where are we going now?”

Ginny looked around. “Hermione’s parents are over there. It looks like Mike, Laurel, and Saturn got them out all right. Rose!” she called out. “David! Hello!” The two dentists, their features pale but trusting, turned. When they recognized Hermione’s sister-in-law, they smiled and waved back. “I don’t see Ria or Gwen,” Ginny went on, now speaking under her breath. “They’re not here, and they both have Muggle blood. If you go for Gwen, I’ll get Ria.”

“We’ll go together,” Harry said. “We’re not splitting up.”

Ginny sighed. “I had a feeling you’d say that.” Secretly, though, she was glad. She wanted to keep him with her as long as possible, to have his company right up until the end. She could only function if she ignored the creeping dread, the terrifying memory of Mórrígan’s crone face; her bravado was the only thing keeping her on her feet.

* * * * *

“I still say you can’t be trusted,” Ron muttered.

“Imagine my surprise,” Draco drawled. He stood back until Arabella motioned that it was safe to continue. She slipped through the heavy wooden door. Ron followed. Draco and Dana faced each other, and he inclined his head. “After you.”

She scowled, but went.

The stairs to the dungeons were steep, the floor damp and slippery. Draco trailed his hand along the rough, cold stone wall to keep from slipping. When he gained the bottom of the stairs, he stopped in his tracks. “Wait,” he said softly, his whisper echoing in the cavernous space.

“What?” In the darkness, Ron tersely barked his question.

Every torch had been extinguished. They were in pitch blackness; Draco’s only sense of his environment was the damp, musty air and the slight rustles and moans of the prisoners. Almost without thinking, he swiftly put his back against the stone wall. Potter’s warning was meant literally: Don’t turn your back to her. He didn’t want to give Dana an opportunity to sneak behind him in the darkness. “This isn’t right.”

“Tell us something we don’t know,” Dana snapped. “You keep people locked up in your basement.” She softly mocked, “Not right.”

“Shut up, Silvermoon. If you must talk, whisper. It wouldn’t be wise to advertise our presence. Let me think.” Draco squinted and tried to see down the hall, but only blackness met his eyes. “There are supposed to be lights. They’ve all been put out.”

There was a beat of silence. Then, Arabella asked, “Why?”

“How should I know? I wasn’t here to vote on the decision; I was busy saving Weasley’s brother from a cave-in.”

Draco didn’t have to be able to see in the dark to know that Ron had rolled his eyes. “So, what do you suggest? That we stand here and talk about how you’re afraid of the dark while my parents sit in a cell somewhere and –”

“The Ginny-esque histrionics aren’t helping.” As calm as could be, Draco put up his hand and grabbed Ron’s wrist, stopping his fist just before it collided with Draco’s nose. “I’ve learned a thing or two from your sister,” he whispered, a sneer in his voice. “Do you really want to fight me? I don’t need to be able to see you to kick your arse.”

“We’re wasting time!” Arabella hissed.

Draco could barely make out Ron’s face, the slight curve of his chin, the flash of his eyes, centimeters from his own. “Your call, Weasley,” he said in an undertone.

Ron’s face screwed up in fury, but he stepped away.

Draco thought aloud. “We can’t go anywhere in the dark…we’ll have to light our wands. But just a little, and be prepared to put them out at a moment’s notice.”

Ron and Arabella whispered, “Lumos,” but Dana remained silent.

“Silvermoon?” Draco prompted.

Dana turned to him. The dim light highlighted her sunken eyes. Draco could barely discern her silvery irises from their dark, shadowed sockets. She looked like a walking corpse, and he suppressed a shiver. “I’d better not,” she whispered, tightening her grip on her wand. “It…it would be too bright.”

If she wasn’t going to light her wand, then he wouldn’t either. He wouldn’t give her any advantage, however slight. “After you, then.”

Ron muttered “Coward,” under his breath.

“Then would you like to be the one to watch our backs for ambushes? You’re not even a field agent.” Draco snapped, his patience finally wearing thin. Silence was Ron’s answer. “I didn’t think so. Just go. I’ll be behind you.”

“How do we know you’re not going to disappear while our backs are turned and tell them we’re here?” Arabella asked.

Draco’s lips compressed, and even in the dim light, the aggravation in his eyes was evident. “I won’t,” he said evenly. “You’ll just have to trust me.” It had been a fair question, but one that rankled.

“But how do we know –” Arabella began, but Draco cut her off.

“I think Weasley knows why,” he said, his eyes gleaming with sudden understanding. “Or if he doesn’t, he can use his imagination.”

Until that very moment, Ron honestly hadn’t any idea why Draco had walked into the Great Hall with Ginny and Harry. He remembered Hermione’s explanation – two men, born to protect the Pendragon with their lives – and shot Draco a glare so full of fury, Draco could hardly believe it came from a Gryffindor. “He’s all right,” Ron said to Arabella and Dana. “He’s not going to leave us.”

“But why?” Dana pressed. “You can’t expect us to believe it without a reason.”

“Because Ginny told him not to,” Ron said shortly, “and that’s all the reason you need.” Without another word, he turned and walked away. After a suspicious glance at Draco, Arabella followed.

Once again, Draco and Dana were left staring at each other. The lights from Ron and Arabella’s wands were getting further away, their glow dimming. “Go on,” Dana said.

“You first.”

A long shudder wracked her body. He stood firm, and made no move to help her. Finally, her sunken eyes slid away from his direct gaze, and she started down the hall. Draco followed, his wand in his hand and at the ready.

They caught up with the others just in time. Arabella had let out a low cry, and was rushing for the bars of a nearby cell. Draco caught her before she could get within arm’s reach. “Don’t,” he said tersely.

“That’s Agent Percivale in there,” she protested. “I trained him.”

“Don’t,” Draco repeated. “We’re here to get Ginny’s family, not to rescue every Auror you happen to recognize.”

“He was the best dueler in his recruitment class,” Arabella said, casting a desperate glance over Draco’s shoulder to the dirty man in the cell, who sat on the floor and didn’t pay the people outside the slightest bit of attention. “He could help us.”

“I doubt that.” Even when he was talking to Arabella, he was watching Dana. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of her since they’d Apparated. Coiled tension wound his body tight; every sense he possessed was fixed wholly on her, ready to use his wand if she so much as sneezed suspiciously. She leaned against the opposite wall, watching him with the same hungry, predatory expression Delia had worn at the castle. Her skin was waxy and slick with sweat. Her breath came in heavy, panting gasps, and her eyes were glazed with silver. She was shaking, but she and Draco were the only ones who knew it wasn’t from the cold dungeon air.

“You doubt it, you do?” Arabella demanded. “I’m not inclined to take the word of a Death Eater. There’s no reason we should believe you.”

Draco affected a long-suffering tone. “If you so much as got near that cell, he’d have your wand from you faster than you could move, and the next second, you, Weasley, and Silvermoon would be dead.”

“What are you talking about?” Ron said. “He’s an Auror, Malfoy. Why would he want to hurt us?”

“After a little bit of deprogramming, a little bit of Imperius, and a lot of torture, they’re ready to do anything we tell them,” Draco explained, his voice as harsh as the story he told. “Hell, they’re eager for it. They’ll call anyone Master, just to stop the pain. They’ll hate Aurors if we tell them to hate Aurors, which we do, and they’ll kill them on sight if that’s what the Dark Lord wants, which he does.”

"Why?" Ron was aghast as he realized the answer to his question. "You send them into situations that are highly –”

“Highly dangerous, yes,” Draco interrupted impatiently. “Too dangerous to risk Death Eaters. Prisoners are expendable.”

Arabella’s upper lip curled in disgust. “That’s abominable. I don’t even know the words to describe such evil.”

“Really?” Draco snapped, unable to keep a note of bitterness from his words. “Be careful; you might hurt my feelings.”

Ron glared. “How do you know so much about Percivale?”

Draco flicked his eyes, cold and businesslike, to Ron. “Because, Weasel, I trained him myself.”

The moment he looked away from Dana, her wand was in her hand and aimed at his forehead. Luckily, Draco’s reflexes had always been excellent. In the space of a heartbeat, his wand was pointed back at her.

“Potter told me what happened at Fletcher’s flat,” he said with soft, velvet menace. “I won’t be as noble. If you so much as think about firing at me, I’ll kill you.”

“Are you threatening me?” Dana asked. Her wand shook as her body trembled with latent power.

“I don’t make threats,” Draco said, “only promises.”

Just then, an explosion rocketed down the hall. Dana and Draco both turned, their incipient duel forgotten, as Death Eaters swarmed into the dungeon.

* * * * *

Mike, with Agents Laurel and Saturn, Apparated in front of a small stone farmhouse. The wind whipped their hair and the long grasses under their feet. Above the house floated a Dark Mark. It lighted their faces with green, sickly and gruesome.

“We’re too late,” said Laurel. “They got here first. We have to get out of here, in case there are still some Death Eaters hanging around.”

“Hold on,” Mike protested, grabbing her arm to keep her from Disapparating. “There might be people inside.”

“Not live ones,” Saturn said.

“Are we just going to leave?” Mike demanded.

“What else can we do?” said Saturn. “You think we’re the only group tonight that’s run into a house that the Death Eaters have reached first?”

“But…” Mike looked up at the skull, floating in the sky. “Cho Chang lives here. She was on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team with me. It doesn’t seem right to –”

Laurel squeezed his shoulder. Her sympathetic eyes belied the businesslike tone of her next words, “The Bones family is next on our list. Let’s go.” They Disapparated.

Inside the house, five Death Eaters stepped over the bodies that littered the floor, and crowded around the fireplace. “They can’t have been so foolish as to leave it connected to the network.”

“But who would know to disconnect it?” another pointed out. “We won’t know unless we try.”

“And if it works?”

“Then we send a message to the others,” a third man said, “telling them that the enemy is vulnerable.”

The first man took a pinch of powder and threw it into the flames. “Hogwarts,” he said, and stepped inside.

* * * * *

Draco fired hexes just as fast as he could think of them. Stupefied Death Eaters lay in piles all around the hall.

“Malfoy!” Ron called from the opposite alcove.

“What?” he snapped, leaning out to shoot a particularly nasty, disfiguring curse. The target wizard screamed, and Draco smiled to himself.

“Arabella is hurt.” His voice was panicky. “She was hit in the leg.”

“Then heal her, idiot!” he shouted. “Do I really have to tell you that?”

There was a moment of silence, only broken by the whiz of spells hurtling through the air.

“I don’t know how,” Ron finally said. “Hermione was always better at this kind of thing.”

Draco swore under his breath. “Have Silvermoon do it.”

“She says that if she tried to help, it would only make the wound worse.”

He groaned, shot an apprehensive look over his shoulder at the opposite alcove, and shouted “Stupefy!” three more times while he worked up his nerve. All three found their marks, and for the first time, Draco acknowledged that there might have been some benefit to having Ginny bleed into him.

“Come on,” Ron said. “What are you waiting for?”

Draco looked across the hall again at the opposite alcove, and then peeked around the edge of his own. All was silent. “I’ve been keeping count. There’s still one more Death Eater on his feet. I’m not moving until I know where he is.”

Ron glared. “He’s probably run away, if he hasn’t fired at us yet. Just move. I don’t know how much time Arabella has.”

Draco tightened his grip on his wand and set his teeth. Blood pounding, he dashed into the hallway. His foot caught on an uneven flagstone, and he went sprawling, the hard stone floor knocking the wind out of him. His wand skittered away into the darkness. He quickly rolled onto his back, and saw a tall, robed figure, like the specter of death, standing over him. The Death Eater raised his wand, and Draco could only lay, helpless. He screwed his eyes shut and threw up his hands, even though he knew it would be useless.

“Avada –”

And then, another voice –

“Avada Kedavra!”

A cold wind ruffled his hair, and a split-second later, a dead weight crashed onto his chest. He tentatively cracked one eye open, and then the other, when he realized that the body on top of him belonged to the Death Eater, and that he was still alive. He pulled back the hood, and saw it was MacNair. Then, he focused on the figure towering above him.

“The killing curse, Silvermoon?” was all he could say.

Dana sheathed her wand and fixed him with a glare of pure malice. “Revenge for Seamus, Malfoy, and a life debt for you. Someday, I’ll be back to collect.” As she vanished in a flash of silver light, her smile was nothing short of depraved.

Draco shut his eyes again. “Bugger!”

Ron’s voice pierced his red-hot fury. “Where did she go?”

Draco sat up and glared. “How would I know? But she’ll be back. Bloody hell! Ginny’s going to –”

“Remember Arabella?” Ron interrupted. “We can worry about Dana later.”

“I’m worrying about her now,” Draco snapped, groping around on the floor for his wand. He finally closed his hand around it, and then crawled over to Ron’s alcove. “She’s gone mad, and now she’s loose somewhere, and I owe her a life debt. Ginny will be –”

“Since when do you care about what Ginny thinks?” Ron shot back, scooting over to make room for Draco by Arabella’s side.

Draco flashed Ron a warning glare. He was not in the mood to talk about Ginny. As he closed up the gash in Arabella’s leg, he told her “You should lie still for a few minutes. There shouldn’t be any more danger down here. Not for you, anyway.”

Her nod was weak. Ron shrugged out of his robe and wadded it up in a ball. He slid it beneath her head as a makeshift pillow and said, “That should help a little. Malfoy, give her yours too.”

“Does she really need two?” Draco said, talking about Arabella as though she weren’t right there. “This is a dungeon, not a hotel.”

“For a blanket, you stupid prat. The floor is cold.”

Draco sighed, and slipped his own robe off. His hands were surprisingly gentle, though, as he spread it over her. “Come on, Weasley. The sooner we go, the sooner this is over with.”

Ron turned back to Arabella. “When we find them, we’ll come back for you and go back to Hogwarts.”

The two unlikely allies ran off into darkness.

* * * * *

Ginny grabbed Ria’s hand. “Move!” she shouted. “Get to the fireplace. Harry and I will cover you.”

Ria ran. Harry fired shielding spells just as fast as his mouth could form the words. Ginny had given up on formal spells a long time ago. Her mind and wand were operating in syncopation; incantations were unnecessary. She heard the flames roar, and knew Ria got through safely. “You go next,” she told Harry. “I’ll stay behind to close the connection, and then follow you.”

He pressed a hard, quick kiss to her mouth. “Hurry,” he said, and then ran. Ginny shielded him the whole way, and he vanished in a flash of green fire. She turned, ready to wall Ria’s fireplace off from the Floo network, when an explosion knocked her off her feet. Smoke choked her lungs and, sprawled on the ground, she doubled over with coughing.

The cloud of ash cleared, and a tall, thin column of a man materialized. Ginny tipped her chin up and forced herself to meet his eyes. Could this possibly be the nightmare from her youth, the charismatic young man who’d ensnared her mind and stolen her will? This creature with his flattened face and red eyes like slits? She froze, her muscles seized in raw panic and her mind reeled as she clung to reason by her fingernails. She tried to reconcile the monster before her with the monster that had risen from the diary.

Rough binding spells grabbed her arms and twisted them behind her. Someone wrenched her wand out of her fist. Ginny stood, immobile, her chest heaving, and wondered if it was possible to go mad from fear. She’d turned off her emotions back at the castle, but she couldn’t ignore them any more. The bravado that had kept her upright during the day’s ordeal faltered and then failed as Badb’s noxious, destructive power choked off her air, but Ginny saw that it was focused around the black ring, rather than spread throughout Voldemort’s aura. He might wear the goddess’s talisman, but he hadn’t yet unlocked its secrets.

“Another Auror to add to our collection,” Voldemort said. “Badb will be pleased with the mortal blood spilled for her tonight.”

Ginny looked wildly around the room. Could he really not know who she was? But of course he didn’t. He’d never laid eyes on her before. The Tom she’d known had been a memory, a shadow of evil frozen in time. She took deep breaths and tried to think clearly, to come up with a plan, but before she could form even the most rudimentary thoughts, Tom was speaking again. “Get the Floo powder.”

The next moment, they were whirling through the Floo network. Ginny barely had time to catch her breath before they landed at Hogwarts. She fell to the floor in a heap, and binding spells once again closed around her arms and jerked her to her feet. The Great Hall was pandemonium. Everywhere, Death Eaters were subduing Aurors, Professors, and students. How could it all have gone so terribly wrong? The dark wizards were looking to their leader for instructions.

“Bring me Harry Potter and the traitor,” Voldemort ordered.

Roughly, Harry and Draco were dragged to the front of the crowd. The Dark Lord’s lips parted in a ghastly smile. Ginny met their eyes; they both strained against the spells that held them, but there were too many wands, too many Death Eaters to fight them all.

The Dark Lord raised his wand to Harry.

“No!” Ginny cried, writhing against her bonds. “No! Stop!”

Voldemort ignored her. “The killing curse almost seems too quick for all the trouble you’ve put me through,” he mused, tracing Harry’s scar with his wand. Harry reared back and spat full-on in the Dark Lord’s face. The slit of a mouth contorted with fury, and he opened his mouth to call the green wind of death.

“Tom!” Ginny screamed.

Voldemort froze.

“I’m the one you want!” She was shouting herself hoarse. Not Harry; it wasn’t his time. She couldn’t stand here and watch him die, not while there was anything she could do. “Are you listening to me? I’m the one you want!”

“Ginny!” Harry yelled, “shut up!”

Voldemort rounded on her. “Where did you hear that name?” he demanded. “Tell me this instant.”

Ginny looked up into his eyes and reminded herself, The length of my life and the day of my death were fated long ago. “There’s a chain around my neck, under my shirt,” she said, her words carrying throughout the hall, reaching the ears of captives and Death Eaters alike. “Look at it.”

She shuddered as his long, bone-white finger, cold and rubbery, trailed along her collarbone. The digit hooked beneath her silver chain and pulled out the diamond ring. His eyes widened when he saw the dragons etched on the sides.

“Here I am,” Ginny said. “You’ve found the one you were looking for.”

“You are the Pendragon?” Voldemort said in scornful disbelief.

“Yes.” There wasn’t a person in the cavernous hall who hadn’t heard her answer. “My name is Virginia Weasley, and I am the Pendragon.”

“Join me,” Voldemort commanded.

Ginny suppressed the urge to laugh at this ridiculous idea and looked past him, to Harry and Draco, who had redoubled their efforts to escape their magical bonds. “No.”

Voldemort motioned to the Death Eaters who held her binding spells, and they released her. Ginny stumbled, but quickly regained her footing. She faced the Dark Lord, so close she could feel the cold radiating from his body. Again her eyes flicked past him, this time falling on Harry’s scar. And then, she understood. The length of my life and the day of my death....

“Join me,” he said, “and I’ll give you power beyond your wildest dreams.”

“It’s already mine, whether I join you or not.”

“If we combine our power, we will rid the Wizarding world of its Muggle taint once and for all.”

Ginny forced her face into an arrogant smirk. “And this is supposed to make me think it’s a good idea? That’s rich coming from you, Tom.”

The next second, her head snapped to the side as he backhanded her across the mouth.

She turned her eyes back to his. “What’s the matter, Tom? Your followers don’t know that your father was a Muggle?” She glanced to other side of the room, where Draco’s father held Sirius in a binding curse. “Does Lucius Malfoy know that you’re no different from the people he’s locked up for you in the dungeons beneath his house? That you’re no better than the dozens of people you and your kind murdered tonight? That every single time you say the word Mudblood, Tom, you’re referring to yourself?”

He raised his wand. Ginny had just enough time to clench her teeth against a scream before he shouted, “Crucio!”

She dropped to the floor, writhing in agony, pain beyond pain, but she did not cry out. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. She dimly heard shouts – Mike, Ron, Harry, Draco – before the pain filled her mind, and blocked her ears. Then, it ended.

“Join me,” the Dark Lord said once more.

Ginny raised her head and looked up from the ground at the tall, black column of his body. “No.”

“Crucio.”

She felt like she was being turned inside out. Her blood boiled as her heart and lungs strained against her rib cage, struggling to jump out of her chest. When it ended, she slumped to the floor in sweet relief. She wouldn’t scream. She wouldn’t lose her pride. She wouldn’t beg. She wouldn’t fight back. She would keep provoking him…keep pressing him closer to that line….

“You will sit at my right hand,” Voldemort said. “I will even let the Potter boy live, if it is what you wish. Or, you can lie here, prostrate at my feet, and die.”

Ginny’s heart hammered inside her chest as she slowly raised herself up on one elbow, her head still hanging down, eyes fixed on the stone floor. She couldn't draw breath enough for a good tirade, but she could still provoke him, let his ego run away with his good sense. “You’re not worth…the dirt on the soles…of my feet. You’ve corrupted yourself… so thoroughly… that you’ve become… the dark arts you practice. You’re not even… human anymore. You’re a Mudblood… in the true sense of the word, Tom. Everything about you… is polluted.”

“Crucio!”

Her elbow flew out from under her at the sudden explosion of agony, and Ginny’s face slammed into the flagstones. She sank her teeth into her lower lip until the blood came, but still she would not scream.

“I could let the traitor live too,” Voldemort said, “if you wished it. It would not take much to make him loyal to me once more. I made him what he is, after all. I made all three of you what you have become.” He used his wand to gently push Harry’s fringe aside, uncovering the lightning bolt on his forehead. Harry writhed at the explosion of hot, blinding pain in his head. “And you all have the scars to prove it. Harry Potter,” he sneered, “the Boy Who Lived, who saved the world once, and now believes he’s forever obligated to repeat the performance. Unless he is rescuing someone, he is of no worth to anyone.

“Then we have Draco Malfoy, the traitor,” he trailed a finger over Draco’s Dark Mark. Draco fought to contain his reaction, but the pain was too agonizing, and he cried out. “You are so very much like me, and yet so very unlike. Growing up in my shadow has turned you into a creature of unrelenting ambition and ruthlessness. Your humanity is a weakness, and I am not the source.”

Voldemort turned back to Ginny and, with a flick of his wand, raised her from the floor, and set her on her feet. “You are the cause of his betrayal. Virginia Weasley. I remember you now. My servant, Lucius Malfoy, told me how he gave you my diary. My younger self must have had such fun with you, you stupid, naive little girl. Using you, poisoning you, turning you into my weapon…”

Ginny shook her head frantically, a gasp of horror escaping through lips pressed tightly together.

“I have had more of a hand in your life than in your protectors’,” the Dark Lord went on. “You are my greatest creation, my own dark Galatea. Your scars aren’t visible, but they’re there. I can feel them.”

“Stop,” she said, her voice tinged with subtle menace, an unspoken challenge. She took a deep breath, and threw down the gauntlet. “I don’t want to hear anymore. Just kill me, if that’s what you’re going to do.”

Voldemort went on as though he hadn’t heard her. “You and I both understand, Pendragon, perhaps better than anyone else in this hall, that when you look long into the abyss, the abyss looks back into you. We are the same. I am in you, just as I am in Potter, and the traitor. I am victorious. Join me.”

“Never.” The single word was backed by centuries of undisputed power, weighted with ancient authority. “I am not and will never be your Galatea.”

“That makes no difference. I have already won,” he said. “Look around you! The hall is full of my Death Eaters. Potter and the traitor are in my power. Hogwarts has fallen to me, and Dumbledore has been defeated.”

“Dumbledore doesn’t matter.” Ginny’s eyes glittered dangerously. “You haven’t won until I lay dead at your feet.”

Voldemort looked at her for a minute that lasted an age. “I am going to kill you,” he finally said, motioning to the Death Eaters who stood behind Ginny. They gave her a hard shove, and she fell to her knees, “and I’m going to let Potter watch. Then, I’m going to kill him, and the traitor, and that Mudblood-loving fool, Albus Dumbledore. You’ll die knowing that they’re about to follow you, and that you’re leaving the Wizarding World without the protection of the Pendragon.”

Ginny tried to remember the Norse warriors who met their fate unafraid; she reached blindly for the courage to face what she knew had to be done. The world held suspended as she thought of Harry, Draco, Mike, her parents and brothers, Ria, Gwen, Hermione…the future she would never have but wanted madly, desperately. She took a deep breath and steeled herself.

“Are you ready for death?” Voldemort taunted.

Ginny raised her head and met his gaze straight on. “No,” she said. “No, I’m not.”

“Then beg me.”

“I’d rather die.”

Voldemort cackled. “It would be my pleasure.”

Magical bonds sprung from the wands of the Death Eaters behind her, fastening her shoulders to the floor. He wouldn’t be happy just killing her; he had to humiliate her too, have her bound at his feet, forehead on the cold stone floor.

It was as if the entire world were moving in slow motion. She heard every sound, felt every ripple in the air. But in a cruel twist of irony, she was bound by the same slowness of action and response. She didn’t struggle.

Voldemort raised his wand. “Avada –”

Harry and Draco finally wrestled free of their binding spells and swung their wands up to the Dark Lord’s back.

From her place on the floor, Ginny shouted to them, “Don’t!”

They hesitated, just long enough for Voldemort to finish the incantation.

“Kedavra.”

A cold wind swept through the hall as the green jet of light slammed into Ginny’s back with bone-crushing force. Her small frame twisted and writhed in agony. The dark spell was ripping her life out of her body. The days and weeks and years that would have been hers were burning away, the hours slipping through her fingers like fine grains of sand. Her screams, instead of cutting off mid-breath, only grew louder. The green light swirled around her in a sickly aura. It soaked into her skin and, as she continued to scream, slowly transmuted to silver. Ginny took onto herself as much of it as she could bear, and then threw down the walls separating her from Harry and Draco. The rest of the curse streaked through the links, flooding the protectors’ bodies with its soul-twisting pain, spreading the impact among the three of them. She held onto the magic with all her might, let its momentum gather, and then jerked it out of the protectors and pushed as hard as she could. It lashed out of her body in a great explosion of Otherworldly light, sending the Dark Lord crashing to the ground, scattering the Death Eaters. The magical bonds that held the resistance fighters dissolved, but no one moved. Everyone stood still, stunned.

Ginny lifted her head just off the ground and saw Voldemort, who lay across the floor. His thin chest rose and fell with each labored breath. Only Badb’s ring had kept him from being torn from his body, as had happened the last time a killing curse had backfired on him. He was corporeal, but extremely weak. Weak enough to finally kill. She raised her eyes to Harry, who stood above her. She could only croak two words. “He’s yours.” Draco fell to his knees beside Ginny, but Harry remained standing.

He understood what Ginny was saying. Harry looked down into the hated face, the man who’d murdered his parents and countless others, had almost murdered Ginny. “Open your eyes,” he demanded. Voldemort didn’t move. Harry felt hate, ugly and dark, clawing up through his chest. He aimed a vicious kick at the Dark Lord’s ribs and shouted, “Open your eyes!” The red, snake-like eyes slowly cracked open, and glared at Harry with loathing. “I want you to see me,” Harry said. “You killed so many people, and ruined so many lives. You murdered my parents twenty three years ago, and tonight you nearly murdered the woman I love. We’ve hunted each other all my life, and now I’m finally going to kill you.”

“What do you want, Potter? Do you want me to beg, like your mother?” Voldemort wheezed, venom in his voice. “Or like the Pendragon’s father? He begged me for mercy. He died like a coward, my name on his lips.”

"No," Harry responded, unfazed by his opponent's dying lies. "I don’t want you to beg. I just want you to die." With two words, Harry's wand erupted in green light. A cold shadow swept from the room, cowering those in its wake with the malevolence of it's final piercing scream. All was silent for the space of a heartbeat while the green shadow fled, torn away like a flag in the wind.

“He’s dead,” Harry announced in a quiet, rough voice. The room erupted. Death Eaters who were close enough to fireplaces ran into the flames, fleeing to goddess only knew where. The ones who weren’t close enough to escape were quickly overwhelmed by the Aurors and Professors. People were screaming, shouting, even laughing with unrestrained joy.

The green light had only just started to fade, and Harry was already turning back to Ginny. As he knelt down and wrapped his arms around her to help her stand, his fingers connected with a thin, raised line of skin. She had a lightning bolt scar on her left shoulder blade. She’d believed that her life would be the cost for weakening the Dark Lord enough to kill, and had been willing to pay that price. She’d had no way of knowing that she’d survive an Avada Kedavra. Harry’s throat worked, but he couldn’t find the words to answer the sacrifice that she’d been willing to make. He braced his arms under hers, rested her chin on his shoulder, and heaved her to her feet.

Over Harry’s shoulder, Ginny saw Lucius Malfoy bending down over the body of the Dark Lord. He’d crept through the seething mass of people, and was now sliding the obsidian ring from the long, bony finger of his fallen leader. Ginny grabbed Harry’s wand and swung it up, marshalling the last shredded remnants of her power. Just as she fired, Draco slammed into her, knocking all three of them to the ground, and her curse flew wide, decapitating a marble statue on the other side of the room. As she watched from the floor, Lucius put the goddess’s ring onto his own finger, his face crazed with lust for power.

She could only stare helplessly from the floor as the ring slid home. A great cloud of dark, Otherworldly power rushed through the hall. The temperature plunged and the candles guttered, leaving the hall in semidarkness, lit only by the light that slowly spread over Lucius’s body. The crowd crashed into stunned silence. Lucius’s face lit with a demonic fire. His aura melted around him as his humanity dissolved.

The next moment, Ginny felt an almighty crack in the barrier that held the Otherworld apart from the world of mortals. Every muscle in her body contracted. Her back arched as her fingers clawed at the stone floor; her ears rang and her breath was knocked right out of her as the sticky, black magic swamped the man now wearing Badb’s ring. She was dimly aware that Delia Silvermoon, too, had cried out. Then, just as quickly, it was over.

Lucius leaned down and, with a quick, light touch, brushed a strand of red hair out of her face. “You look much like my sister, when she is young,” he said quietly, so that only Ginny could hear.

She searched Lucius’s bloodshot eyes. Voldemort had been a strong enough wizard to hold the barrier that kept Badb from coming into this world. In his vanity, Lucius had believed that he, too, was powerful enough to take on the goddess. He had drastically misjudged. Ginny saw that the aura surrounding the man’s body was the pure, bright silver of a goddess. This body no longer housed Lucius Malfoy. Badb had gained entrance to the mortal world.

“You understand,” Badb said, tilting her head. “Can you see me, Pendragon?”

Ginny slowly nodded. The goddess smirked. “Mórrígan and Tom are so predictable. The fools played right into my hands.” The next moment, the goddess vanished.

It was a struggle for Ginny just to draw breath. She glared at Draco with undisguised rage. “Are you insane? What were you thinking?”

“He’s my father,” Draco snapped back. “Was I supposed to stand by and let you kill him?”

“This is a hell of a time to turn filial, Malfoy!”

“If I am, then it’s your fault!”

“That thing isn’t your father,” she informed him. “Your father was dead from the moment he put the ring on his finger. And now Badb is loose in this world; the barrier is broken. I don’t –”

Ginny cut off as a paroxysm of coughing wracked her body. She shoved Harry off of her and rolled onto her stomach. Silver fluid, like liquid mercury came from her mouth, coating her chin and dripping onto the floor.

“It’s blood. She’s coughing up blood,” Draco said, closing his hands about her shoulders. He saw the raised lightning bolt and sent Harry a worried glance.

Harry ground out through clenched teeth, “Don’t touch her.”

“Potter,” Draco started, “he gave her a scar –”

“Don’t touch her!” Harry shouted, throwing himself at Draco. Draco tumbled back, his grip on Ginny broken. Harry wiped her bloody chin with his sleeve and murmured to himself, “The blood is probably from the Cruciatus Curse. He hit her as hard as he could.” He said to her, “Ginny, you might have some internal bleeding.”

She coughed again. Silver blood sprayed his black cloak. Do you think? she croaked into his head. Harry, he said…he said that my dad…

Draco jumped. Their link was no longer blocked. He’d heard her speak. “Use your power to heal yourself, like you did on Avalon,” he ordered.

Ginny shook her head as her body convulsed in another coughing fit. Her hands, her clothes, the floor were all spattered with silver. I can’t.

“What the hell do you mean, you can’t?” Draco demanded.

I mean I can’t. My magic is gone.

“Gone?” Harry echoed. That did not bode well. He held her hair out of the way as she retched a fresh torrent of blood, and his eyes widened. The sheer physical stress of intentionally absorbing and repelling a killing curse had turned the golden threads of her hair to silver.

I’m just like a Muggle. She’d used more Otherworldly power in the past few hours than she had in all her twenty-two years put together. She hadn’t paced herself, and redirecting Voldemort’s curse and then trying to stop Lucius had finished her off. There was nothing left.

“No powers at all?” Draco asked. He looked dumbfounded.

There was no answer. Ginny was out cold.

“Madame Pomfrey!” Harry shouted, his voice tinged with panic. “We need to get her to the hospital wing right away.”

The school nurse pushed through the frozen crowd. “Pick her up,” she ordered. “Follow me.”

Harry scooped her limp body into his arms. Draco followed behind. The crowd parted silently for them, and as they passed through, every head bowed. Those old enough to recall the dreams that heralded her birth remembered how she had announced herself: their servant, and their sovereign. She was unconscious, and missed the silent tribute.

* * * * *

And that’s it for G9. Stay tuned for Galatea’s final chapter, “Baptism.” We’ll find out what happened to the missing Weasleys, Dumbledore tries to organize the Aurors, Draco makes a choice that will affect the rest of his life, and Ginny and Mórrígan have a long overdue discussion.

Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed G9. Each and every one of you is appreciated more than I can say. You all are my heroes. Extra thanks to everyone this time around for waiting so patiently for G9. I appreciate all your support.