Ginny Weasley and the Heirs of Darkness

Chapter Twenty: The Order of Rowena

Ginny disembarked from the Hogwarts Express feeling like a different girl than the one who'd boarded it, and in light of what Draco had told her, home and the warmth of the Christmas holidays already seemed very far away.

"I shouldn't have told you," Draco muttered angrily as he walked beside her up to the castle. "I knew I shouldn't have."

"No, I'm glad you did," Ginny replied in an undertone, not wanting to be overhead by the other students that were filing past. "I have to know about the girl," she said fiercely, repeating what she'd said on the train. "I just know it has something to do with me."

***

Lucius slipped the necklace over his head, looking at his wife. "I see," he said quietly.

In spite of the fact that she should have been in bed, Narcissa was pacing the floor of their bedroom, her eyes glittering feverishly. "She wants to know, Lucius. And eventually, her curiosity will infect Draco, too, and he'll demand answers from you. Are you prepared to tell your son the truth?"

Lucius ignored her for a moment, his gaze absorbed by the flickering of the fireplace. The room was too hot, and the house elves had added something else to the fire; the fumes were sickeningly sweet. He couldn't think, he felt choked. Finally, he tore his eyes away. "He already knows more than I'd like him to, Narcissa," he said pointedly, not at all pleased by the fact that Narcissa had told their son so much about his father's past.

"He deserves to know," Narcissa replied, voice heavy with emotion. "They both do. About the prophecy, about us, about themselves... about Lily."

"I will tell Draco what he needs to know when he needs to know it," Lucius said coldly, furious with his wife for meddling in what she'd only so recently learned about.

"That time is now, Lucius!" Narcissa screamed, anger flaring to life in her eyes. "He is not your toy, he is not a strategy, he is our son!" She took a moment to compose herself, lowering her voice, though the rage still throbbed in her gaze. "He is my son. And if you won't tell him, I will."

Lucius rose from his chair; he was across the room, his hand resting lightly near her throat, in less time than it took to blink. "You will do nothing of the sort."

Revulsion filled her eyes, the same loathing and disgust he'd seen in them the day he'd married her. "Don't touch me," she hissed, slapping his hand away. Her mouth twitched slightly, and a bitter laugh emerged. "Most women lament the loss of the man they married," she said, irony coloring her words. "But I'm mourning his untimely return."

Lucius's nostrils flared, but he said nothing. They stood like that for a few moments, close, yet not touching, the fury crackling in the air between them.

"What would you have me say, Narcissa? How much truth does he really need?" Lucius finally queried, asking out of sheer malicious curiosity. He sneered. "And how would you have me begin? With the mirror? With the prophecy? Or perhaps with the delightfully romantic tale of myself and Lily?" Narcissa's face had turned white, and she was trembling, but Lucius was too livid to care. "Or maybe you're right, I should tell him about us!" he snapped sarcastically. "I can tell him about your family history, and how you hated me, and how the Dark Lord forced you into my bed as proof of your loyalty. What a perfect bedtime story for our darling boy and his lovely little Weasley girlfriend."

Narcissa's eyes had filled with angry tears. "I didn't say it would be pleasant, Lucius. I just said it would be the truth. He doesn't even know who he is."

"He's a Malfoy," Lucius said as he opened the door to the hallway. "And that will have to be enough." The door clicked shut behind him.

"But what if it isn't?" Narcissa whispered. Crossing the room to her armoire, she opened the doors and pulled down a heavy box from the highest shelf. This wasn't the way she would have chosen to do things. But Lucius hadn't left her a choice.

***

Draco and Ginny had walked the rest of the way up the hill in silence. Sensing that Draco was still regretting what he'd told her, Ginny slipped her hand in his. "I don't think any less of you, you know," she told him as they went through the double doors and into the entrance hall.

An angry retort was on the tip of his tongue- it was sorely tempting to tell her that her opinion didn't matter to him. Except that it did. "Good," he said shortly.

They walked together as far as the stairs, where she would go up to the Tower, and he would go down to the dungeons. "Draco, I-" Ginny began.

He shook his head, indicating there was nothing left to say. Ginny nodded to show she understood, then leaned over the banister to kiss him. The kiss went a bit longer than she'd intended, and a nearby cluster of Ravenclaw second-years was giggling at them as they broke apart. Ginny flushed, catching her breath.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" she asked hesitantly.

A ghost of his usual saucy smirk flitted across his face. "After a kiss like that one, I'd rather see you tonight," he replied.

Ginny smiled, feeling a bit more like herself again. "That could possibly be arranged."

"Miss Weasley, if Mr. Malfoy could spare me a moment of your clearly precious time, I'd like to speak with you, please."

Ginny looked up to see her Head of House staring down at her, pinched face looking as stern as ever. "Yes, of course, Professor McGonagall." She turned back to Draco. "Find me at dinner."

Their eyes met, and each was secretly relieved to realize that nothing had really changed between them; they were still a "they." "I will," Draco promised before he disappeared down the stairs. Ginny looked up at Professor McGonagall again.

"You wanted to speak with me, professor?"

McGonagall nodded. "In my office, if you would, Miss Weasley."

The professor waited to discuss what was on her mind until she and Ginny were both seated at her desk, nibbling on day-old shortbread. "I'm going to assume you didn't do a speck of practice on your Animagus form over the holiday, Ginny," McGonagall said crisply, squeezing lemon into her tea. Ginny opened her mouth to defend herself, but McGonagall was faster. "-and I don't blame you. It was Christmas, and I imagine, with a family the size of yours, that it's very difficult to find time or space.

"However, the time for your registration is fast approaching- the only appointment I could manage for you was this Saturday, at twelve noon, in the office of the Animagicks Registrar."

Ginny's mouth dropped open. "Six days?" she asked.

McGonagall nodded. "So we don't have much time. I'll inform Miss Bell that you'll be unavailable for Quidditch practice. She won't be happy, considering Sunday's match against Ravenclaw, but there's little alternative; it was either register you now, or wait until March, which would, quite frankly, be pushing the limits of legality. Do you understand?"

Ginny nodded. "Yes, professor."

"I expect you in my office every afternoon at four-fifteen precisely, Miss Weasley. I have made special arrangements in my schedule, and I will not tolerate your usual tardiness this week."

"Yes, professor."

McGonagall smiled at her. "Ginny. Don't be nervous. You're my student, you'll do wonderfully. But you must practice this week, and you must be on time. And, of course, our meetings must remain a secret. Will it be remedial Transfiguration or detention?"

Ginny sighed. Transfiguration was one of her favorite subjects- her friends and brothers would never believe a story of remedial lessons. Detention, however, they would believe. "Detention," she decided.

McGonagall nodded, a tiny glint of amusement in her eyes. "Snogging Mr. Malfoy in my classroom this evening is completely unacceptable, Miss Weasley."

"I- wha- oh." Ginny wasn't sure what was more difficult to believe- that she and Draco had just been given tacit permission to use the Transfiguration classroom that evening, or that she'd just heard Professor McGonagall use the word "snog." "Yes, ma'am, after tonight, it won't happen again." She hesitated. "Thank you."

"I haven't the faintest idea why you'd thank me for a week of detentions," Professor McGonagall replied, a minute smile tugging at the edges of her narrow mouth. "I'll see you in my office at four-fifteen tomorrow."

"Yes, professor," Ginny said as she slipped out.

Six days- how would she ever manage?

***

The first half of the week flew by, and Ginny nearly forgot about what Draco had told her on the train. After a very pleasant Sunday night in the Transfiguration classroom, she actually didn't see much of Draco outside of Defense Against the Dark Arts class. And even then, she was preoccupied with thoughts of her blood magic project, which she hadn't done much work on. Professor McGonagall had promised to take her to the Library of Magick while they were in London, though. Hopefully she'd find the books she needed there.

Ginny dropped her form, her body shifting painfully back into a human shape. She still hadn't been able to make the transformation painlessly.

"That was much better," Professor McGonagall said, eyeing Ginny dispassionately. "But I'm afraid you're still going to have to hold the form longer than that. I'd finished the preliminary sketch of your markings, but there's still more data to enter."

Ginny nodded, wiping at the sweat that was trickling into her eyes. "I know, professor," she panted. "I promise, I'll work on it on my own tonight."

McGonagall sighed. "I don't mean to make this difficult for you, Ginny, but after tomorrow, you have to be able to do this. If you can't, we've wasted a year of hard effort, because the registration period will be closed, and you'll have to wait until next year."

"I know," Ginny repeated, closing her eyes against the tears of exhaustion that were threatening to form. "I'll work on it tonight."

McGonagall's expression softened. "I know you will. You've done well so far, Ginny. Saturday will be fine. Go get some dinner, you must be starving."

Gathering her things, Ginny slipped out the office door before the professor could change her mind.

"So, is this where you've been all week?"

Ginny jumped, nearly dropping her books all over the floor. "Draco," she said, pressing a hand to her heart, "you gave me a fright." She shifted her books and pushed her sweaty hair out of her eyes. "And no. I, er, just stopped to see Professor McGonagall about some homework," she said quickly. The one person who wouldn't believe the lie about detention was Draco.

He eyed her tangled hair and sweaty brow. "Must have been a strenuous conversation," he commented dryly.

"I, ah, came straight from Quidditch practice."

"Really. On the Quidditch pitch?"

Ginny's heart started to pound harder. Draco was taking this conversation somewhere she didn't like. "Yes, that's where we usually practice."

"Right. So, you've switched to the Hufflepuff team, then? Because they've been out there since four. Tell me the truth, Weasley."

"I can't."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "I see."

Somehow, that simple phrase made her feel worse than if he'd screamed accusations at her. "Because it's a surprise," she lied hurriedly, a plan starting to form. "I'll show you tonight."

"Really." The corner of Draco's mouth twitched, and Ginny knew he was trying to hide the fact that he was intrigued. "A repeat performance of Sunday night? Should I look for you in the Transfiguration classroom again?"

"I can do better than that," Ginny said, warming to her idea as she thought about it more. "Don't worry about finding me. I'll find you." She looked down at the watch Cho had given her, checking the time. "Right now, though, I need to eat dinner. Want to come with me? You could sit at the Gryffindor table...."

"And have Potter glare daggers at me through the entire meal? No, thank you." They turned down a side corridor, headed in the direction of the Great Hall.

Ginny sighed. "Draco? Doesn't it ever make you angry?"

"All the time."

"You don't even know what I'm asking about!" she complained.

"Then you should ask the question properly," he replied, smirking at her obvious irritation, "instead of coming at it from an angle so oblique even Granger couldn't pretend to know the answer."

Ginny tensed for a moment, prepared to make a nasty retort. But his response was so absurd that she couldn't help but giggle. "I'm sorry. What I meant to ask was, doesn't it make you angry that people won't leave us alone?"

They both skipped over a trick step. "Leave us alone in what way?" Draco asked. "Perhaps all the Gryffindors sleeping at the bottom of the lake so that I could come up to the Tower and have my irresistible way with you?"

Ginny rolled her eyes, laughing in spite of herself. "Not quite. I just wish everyone would stop putting their noses into our relationship. So we're a Gryffindor and a Slytherin. Why does it matter so much? It's not as if it hasn't been done before." They were crossing the entrance hall, and she looked up at the large portraits of the Founders. "Who knows?" she added with a grin. "Maybe Salazar Slytherin had a crush on Godric Gryffindor, and that's the real reason he flounced out of here in such a huff."

Draco snorted. "Now you're just being disgusting." He was silent for a moment. "Maybe people are just following our lead," he said thoughtfully.

"I don't understand," she said as he held open the door to the Great Hall for her.

"It's fairly simple. We sneak about, we aren't often seen together in public. We act like there's something wrong with us, Ginny."

"I- I didn't want to flaunt our relationship-" she protested weakly.

He frowned. "Maybe it's time we did." They had arrived at the end of the Ravenclaw table, and his eyes were boring into her. He didn't seem hurt, but not precisely angry, either. It was more like frustration. "Potter will never give up on you, Ginny. Not if you don't make it perfectly clear to him that you're mine."

It was tempting to snap at him, tell him that she didn't belong to anyone, that he couldn't tell her what to do. But that would be trite and childish; moreover, it wouldn't be true. She grabbed his uniform tie, pulling him towards her. "You're mine, too," she whispered fiercely, before kissing him with an intensity she hadn't known she possessed. Like the Dark Arts, Draco had been a bit of a game to her. But not anymore.

Ignoring the fact that most of the school was staring at them, Ginny smiled at the semi-stunned Draco. "I'll see you tonight," she said firmly, then turned on her heel to take her place at the Gryffindor table.

At the Head table, Professor Dumbledore's eyes were sparkling merrily. "Oh, well done, Miss Weasley, well done." He turned to the teachers seated on either side of him. "Severus, Minerva? I believe that's ten Galleons you each owe me."

***

After dinner that evening, Draco spent some time studying in the library, but he had trouble focusing on the words in front of him. What Ginny had done in the Great Hall- it had taken him completely by surprise. He'd gotten a fair bit of ribbing about it at dinner, particularly from his Quidditch teammates, but he didn't care, as Ginny was more than worth the trouble. The look on her face; the way she'd kissed him; the promise of more to come.... Draco smiled. Maybe he was quite a bit closer to "having his irresistible way with her" than he'd previously thought.

And thoughts like that were not exactly conducive to study. Slamming his book shut and ignoring the looks of irritation he received from his fellow students, Draco tossed the book on the returns cart and strode out of the library. Ginny had said that she'd find him, and he was looking forward to it. But that didn't mean he wanted to make it easy for her. She'd seemed so confident- almost as if she were challenging him.

"Slytherin dungeons it is," he decided, turning the corner sharply and then taking the stairs two at a time. See if Ginny could finagle an entrance into the common room without his or Bronwen's help.

The Slytherin common room was, as usual, packed with people; all the other sixth-year boys were sitting in a cluster, muddling through the latest Charms assignment. Good, Draco thought, unsuccessfully hiding a smirk. Nothing could be better than for Ginny to find him alone in his room.

Draco locked the door to the sixth-year boys' dormitory behind him, flicking on the lights with a quickly muttered spell and tossing his robes and Slytherin tie over the back of a chair. He tugged open his bed curtains and was about to sit down on the edge of the mattress and remove his shoes when movement on the pillow made him recoil in disgust.

Snakes might be the proud symbol of Slytherin House, but that did not mean that Draco was fond of them. Anything that slithered or slimed its way through life was not for him; if he had to be around animals, his preference was for horses or dogs. Warily, Draco backed away from the bed, uncertain what to do. The snake hissed, its tongue licking out at him, and then-

Pop. Ginny stretched her legs and wiggled her fingers as if she were trying to unstiffen her joints. She grinned at Draco. "If you could see the look on your face right now-"

Draco tried to lean against the door frame for support without looking like he was doing just that. "B-boots on the duvet, Weasley," he said, indicating her feet, which were propped on the comforter.

Still grinning, Ginny swung her feet off the bed. "For the last time, Draco, I am not taking off any of my clothes for you. That includes these boots."

"Then you leave me no choice but to-"

Ginny leaned back on her elbows and crossed her legs. "No choice but to what?"

"No choice but to stifle my acute disappointment with an acerbic response. For the last time, Ginny, my bed is not your playground."

Ginny's eyes shimmered with mirth, but she pretended to glare anyway. "Oh, fuck you, Malfoy."

"Would you?" Draco asked hopefully.

Ginny sniggered. "Only in your dreams."

"Yes," he replied, nodding. "A different position every night."

Giggling, Ginny moved over to make space for him next to her on the bed. "Well, the clothes must stay on, and I'm afraid the different positions will have to remain the stuff of dreams, but would you settle for a consolation prize?"

She didn't have to ask twice, and any questions he'd had about her Animagus form, or how she'd gotten into the Slytherin dormitory, were promptly forgotten.

***

"Are you ready, Miss Weasley?"

Ginny smiled nervously, clutching the handle of her bag so tightly that her knuckles turned white. "No," she told Professor McGonagall truthfully. "But I don't suppose I've got much choice, do I?"

The professor shook her head. "It's now or not at all." She gestured at the fireplace. "Why don't you go first."

Nodding, Ginny took a handful of Floo powder from the proffered tin. "Ministry of Magic," she said, stepping through the flames. She arrived in the main corridor of the Ministry, where witches and wizards were constantly bustling in and out of the ever-busy Floo fireplaces. She stepped out of the way just in time for Professor McGonagall to follow her into the corridor; the professor pointed to the elevators.

"We need the Office of Animagi Registration. Fifth floor."

McGonagall led Ginny down the hallway to a frosted glass door; the words "Office of Animagi Registration, Martin Harper, Registrar," were etched into it in swirly gold letters. "Here you are," McGonagall said, opening the door for Ginny but not stepping inside.

"You- you aren't coming?" Ginny asked.

The professor shook her head. "I'm afraid not, Ginny. This is something you have to do on your own. Good luck."

Heart pounding, Ginny stepped up to the desk, where a plump, bespectacled witch was stamping a stack of forms. "Can I help you?" she asked without looking up.

"Er, yes," Ginny said. "My name is Ginny Weasley, I have an appointment with the Registrar-"

"Of course, dear," the witch said, still not looking away from the forms. "Registrar Harper is in a meeting just now, but if you'd take a seat, he'll be right with you."

"Thank you," Ginny said weakly. Why did he have to be in a meeting? She wanted to get this over and done with.

What seemed like hours passed before the door to the Registrar's office opened, but upon checking her watch, Ginny realized it had only been ten minutes.

"Thank you for coming in today, Miss Skeeter," a tall, thin man in a lavender suit was saying as he held the door for an unpleasant-looking woman with too much makeup. "We appreciate your honesty, and are glad you finally decided to register." His eyes fell on Ginny. "Now. You must be Miss Weasley. Professor McGonagall wrote a letter telling me all about you."

"S-she did?" Ginny asked, inching past Rita Skeeter. Rita scowled at her, and Ginny knew she'd recognized the red hair and the last name; there was no love lost between the former Daily Prophet reporter and Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"Goodbye, Miss Skeeter," Registrar Harper said pointedly. "Have a nice day." He closed the office door in her face.

Ginny looked around the office curiously; though her father worked here, she didn't get the opportunity to spend much time at the Ministry of Magic. After a cursory glance at the cheesy, 1970s-era posters reminding Animagi to "register today, so the fees stay away," however, Ginny quickly decided she'd rather be down on the Aurors' floor, meeting famous Dark Wizard catchers like Hestia Jones and Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Registrar Harper settled himself into a battered old armchair. "Alright, Miss Weasley. Let's see what you've got."

Ginny stared. This was it? No preliminaries, no questions? She was just supposed to transform? "I- alright," she replied, taking a deep breath before she changed into her snake form.

The registration seemed to take forever. Registrar Harper paced round her several times, nodding, sketching, and making little grunts of... approval? Ginny knew even McGonagall hadn't made her hold her form this long, and her body was starting to ache.

Finally, the Registrar took his seat again. "Thank you, Miss Weasley," he said abruptly. "You may go."

Ginny was so eager to regain her human form that her transfiguration made quite a loud "pop," and the Registrar arched one eyebrow at her. "That's all?" Ginny blurted. "Did I pass?"

"It wasn't a test, Miss Weasley. Only you can decide when your study of Animagicks is finished- I hope you continue to practice and study for the rest of your life, but it is, ultimately, up to you. But to answer the question you meant to ask, you are a fully registered Animagus, yes." The registrar looked back down at his paperwork, clearly dismissing her.

"Er, thank you," Ginny mumbled as she left the office. Professor McGonagall was waiting for her in the hallway.

"How was it?" she asked, a bit of anxiety showing through her mask of sternness.

"Anticlimactic," Ginny said. "And I hurt all over."

The professor nodded briskly. "Quite natural, Miss Weasley. It will be a year or so yet before you can manage the transformation seamlessly. But you're on the right path." She checked her watch. "We have only a few hours before the Library of Magick closes. Shall we?"

The last thing Ginny wanted to do was research- she felt like curling into a ball and sleeping for a million years. But she nodded. "Yes."

A quick lunch at the Leaky Cauldron before heading to the Library brightened Ginny's spirits a little; every bit of her still ached, but she wasn't as exhausted as before. It wasn't until Ginny actually saw the Library, though, that she managed to completely forget she was in pain. "Wow," she breathed, staring slack jawed at the soaring black marble columns and statue of Rowena Ravenclaw that marked the Library's entrance.

"You'll need to activate your membership, and then I'd guess about an hour of research?" Professor McGonagall said. "I will be in the archives if you need me. Otherwise, we'll meet here in two hours."

Ginny nodded, only dimly registering the professor's words. She stepped up to the desk, her card at the ready. The pretty young witch seated behind the counter looked up, and Ginny realized with a start that the face was a familiar one. "Angelina! I didn't know you worked here." Ginny had been certain that, to get a job at the Library of Magick, you needed to be either a Ravenclaw or one of Rowena Ravenclaw's direct descendants- the Library Foundation was a rather strict organization, and Ginny wondered how Angelina Johnson, a Gryffindor, had gotten around the rules.

Angelina made a face. "My mum is the Head of the Foundation Board, and she thought this would be good for me," she said. "I think," she added, a twinkle in her eye, "that this job is my punishment for being in Gryffindor. But, Ginny, how are you? How're Fred and George?"

"I'm alright," Ginny said. "And you know Fred and George- they're up to their usual stunts. Managed to set fire to Dad's new car over the Christmas holiday. He'd been trying to enchant it to fly again, so I think Mum was secretly happy they'd done it, but of course she couldn't let them know that...."

"Sounds like the same old Fred and George," Angelina laughed. "But, anyway- why are you here today? And can I help you?" She leaned forward, dropping her voice to a whisper. "Please, can I help you? Anything to get out from behind this desk-"

Ginny laughed. "Yes, actually, help would be wonderful. But first I need to activate my membership."

Angelina's pretty dark eyes lit with pleasure. "Oooh, that's one of the few fun parts of this job. Let's see your card." Ginny handed it to her, and Angelina placed it on one side of a pair of bronze scales. "And now put your hand on the other side," she instructed. "Ready?"

Ginny nodded, and Angelina pulled out her wand. "Prima Utilita Ginny Weasley," she said. The card began to glow with light, and it arced over the scales, briefly infusing Ginny's hand with an ethereal brilliance. As the light faded, a wispy outline of the Ravenclaw eagle rose out of the top of the scales, turned twice, then dove for Ginny's card, resting in the smooth bronze. There was a hiss, and the card was no longer smooth- the Ravenclaw crest was embossed into it, along with the words "Ginny Weasley, Order of Rowena, One Year."

"Amazing," Ginny said. Angelina nodded.

"Isn't it? You should see it when they induct a new full member into the order. My mum let me watch once, even though I'm really not allowed. It was brilliant."

Ginny's eyes were still fixed on her card. "Can I touch it?"

Angelina laughed again. "Of course. Now. What kinds of books are you here for?"

***

Angelina had been a bit dubious about helping Ginny look for books on Blood Magic, but in the end, Ginny had managed to convince her that they really were for a school project. Now they were checked out in her name, shrunk to miniature size, and tucked carefully into a tiny lockbox in Ginny's pocket. She'd finished half an hour before she needed to meet Professor McGonagall, so she decided to wander about on the first floor and explore a little.

Past the desks where Angelina and her fellows worked was a large sitting area. It reminded Ginny distinctly of the one brief glimpse she'd had of the Ravenclaw common room- wood floors and wing chairs. Behind that were the rows and rows of treasure books: rare editions, sole copies, banned books and the like. And behind that, at the very back of the Library, was the Wall of Honors.

Ginny had heard about the Wall of Honors before, but of course she'd never seen it. Upon seeing it for the first time, she was actually a bit disappointed. She'd expected rows of shining gold plaques, with the names of dead Aurors and Order of Merlin members glowing softly in the creamy light of candles with well-trimmed wicks. Instead, it was just a flat black marble wall, the names carved into it dusty and untended. Ginny scanned the lists of Aurors, searching for her favorites, but seeing the names didn't have the magic thrill she'd expected it would. Listlessly, her eyes moved on to the Order of Merlin lists.

There were only a few names under "Order of Merlin, First Class," and Ginny recognized them all, smiling slightly when she got to the end and saw Dumbledore's name. The Order of Merlin, Second Class, names weren't all famous, but Ginny knew most of them. The last one on the list was Lyra N. Black.

Ginny knelt to get a better look at the name, sure she'd misread it. "Lumos," she whispered, hoping the light would help. "Lyra N. Black," she read aloud, tracing her finger over the letters. Black. Surely it couldn't be a very common name. Was she related to Sirius?

"Ginny, what are you doing?" Professor McGonagall's voice asked sharply from behind her. "You were meant to meet me at the front ten minutes ago."

Ginny jumped, so startled that she dropped her wand. "I'm sorry, Professor," she said. "It's just- who is Lyra N. Black? She's the most recent name on the Second Class list."

"She was an Auror," McGonagall replied, her voice oddly stiff.

"Is she dead?" Ginny asked. "And is she related to Sirius Black?"

The professor frowned. "I haven't got time for this, Miss Weasley," she said crisply. "Do you have your books?"

Ginny nodded.

"Then let's go." Professor McGonagall swept away down the aisle, and Ginny extinguished the light at the end of her wand after taking one last look at the name. Lyra N. Black... why was it nagging at her so? As soon as she got back to Hogwarts, she was going to do a bit more library research.

***

"Thank you for all your help today, Professor McGonagall," Ginny said. The professor nodded.

"You did very well, Ginny. From now on, we'll return to your weekly lessons, but please practice on your own as often as you can."

"I will," Ginny said sincerely. "Thank you again." The office door clicked closed behind her, and Ginny checked her watch. Five thirty-seven. Plenty of time to skim through a few history books before the dinner bell. Taking a sharp right out the professor's office door, Ginny half-ran down the hallway to the library, dodging a cluster of flirting seventh-years.

Ginny went straight to the librarian's desk. "Madam Pince?"

The old woman looked up, her eyes narrowing suspiciously when she saw Ginny. She was always suspicious of students who spent more time in the library socializing than they did studying. "What can I help you with, Miss Weasley?"

"I'm doing a research project for my History of Magic class," Ginny lied, trying to keep Fiona's pointers in mind to make the lie as smooth as possible. "We're studying famous witches of the twentieth century, and we each have to write an essay on one. Mine is named-" Ginny pulled a piece of paper from her pocket that was actually a note from Bronwen, pretending to check it. "-er, Lyra Black. Order of Merlin, Second Class."

Madam Pince raised an eyebrow. "I'm surprised Professor Binns would assign you such a strange and tragic case. But you were given an easy topic, Miss Weasley. Anything in the Prophet archives from, oh, 1977-1979 should have stories about her. Particularly March of 1979."

"What happened to her?" Ginny asked, amazed, as always, by the librarian's perfect memory.

"You'll soon find out, but in any case, no one really knows. She was awarded the Order of Merlin under the assumption that it was a posthumous award, but in truth, she could still be alive- they never did find her body."

Ginny felt an involuntary shiver go up her spine- what sort of a nightmare story was her insatiable curiosity getting her into? "Thank you very much," she said hurriedly, trying to ignore the vaguely sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Madam Pince nodded. "Good luck."

The archives had been moved to the back of the library, replacing the old Restricted Section, which was a relief to Ginny, since their prior location in a stuffy, cobwebbed back room would only have intensified her feeling of nervousness.

Much as she would have loved to have someone help her, though, just to relieve the creepiness, it was with mixed feelings that Ginny noticed a familiar head of brown hair bent over a large archival tome. Fiona looked up when Ginny approached. "Ginny? What are you looking for in the archives?"

Ginny fidgeted, not knowing what to say. There was no way she could lie to her friend, especially not to Fiona, the master of good lies. She'd see through it in a heartbeat. But for some irrational reason, Ginny wanted to keep Lyra Black to herself- at least until she'd learned more about why the woman had piqued her interest in the first place.

"Just something I came across today at the Library of Magick," she said evasively. "Thought I'd see if I could learn anything more about it."

"You went to London today?" Fiona asked. "Why?"

Ginny shifted her weight from foot to foot, feeling foolish. "Er, to see my Dad."

"He works on Saturdays? And why did you need to see him?"

This was exactly what Ginny has hoped to avoid- arousing Fiona's suspicions by telling her a tangled web of poorly-constructed lies. "Not usually. Look, I'd rather not talk about it."

Fiona raised an eyebrow. "Ginny, is everything alright?"

"I'm fine," Ginny snapped, irrationally annoyed. "I just don't want to talk about it."

"Sorry," Fiona said abruptly, eyes dropping back to her book. "I'll let you get to your research. Sorry to have disturbed you."

Ginny stood silently for a moment, wanting to apologize, but not knowing what to say. She was about to turn away when Fiona cleared her throat.

"I was just going to tell you," she said in a dangerously quiet tone, eyes still fixed on her book, "that I'd been doing a bit of research to see if I could figure out that conversation we overheard between Professors Snape and Gillund. Or have you forgotten about that already?"

Ginny felt her stomach drop to her feet. In all honesty, she had forgotten; what with the Christmas holiday and the problems with Draco and the Quidditch calendar and the Animagicks practice, she hadn't had time to think of anything else. And now that Draco had told her the story of the Death Eaters, she knew the truth about Snape and Gillund, but there was no way she could share that with Fiona- she'd given Draco her word. "I've just been busy recently. But, Fiona, you don't need to worry about them anymore." She hesitated. "I can't tell you why right now, but please just believe me."

"You found out more and you didn't even bother to tell me?" Fiona demanded, finally looking up at Ginny again. "I can't believe you!"

"Fiona, I just told you that I can't tell you why. I'm sorry, but-"

"It's not that," Fiona said, closing her book. She rose, setting the book on a returns cart. "No, what I find unbelievable is the fact that you couldn't even be bothered to tell me that I needn't worry about it anymore. The time I've wasted-!"

"I said I was sorry, Fiona, I don't know what more I can say-" Ginny felt a bit desperate. Having Fiona angry with her was the last thing she needed right now.

"There's nothing else for you to say," Fiona said. "It's just that sometimes I think-" She hesitated. "No, never mind."

"No, tell me. Whatever it is you need to say, Fiona, I want to hear it."

Fiona met Ginny's eyes. "I think you've changed, Ginny. And you're probably going to resent me for saying this, but I think it's because of Dra-"

Ginny held up her hand, a surge of anger rushing through her. "Stop. I know what you're about to say, and I don't want you to, because I'm not sure I could forgive you for it."

Fiona's eyes widened. "So that's how it is, then," she said softly before she gathered her books and walked away. Ginny stared after her, unable to believe what had just happened.

"She's just angry that I didn't tell her, and she resents Draco for it because he's the most obvious target," Ginny whispered to herself. "This will blow over in time."

"And now my baby sister wanders about the library muttering to herself," said a loud voice. "Do you think I should be concerned, Hermione?"

Ginny turned to see Ron and Hermione behind her- as usual, Ron was carrying a huge stack of Hermione's books, and Hermione herself was also lugging a fairly large armload.

"I don't think there's anything wrong with talking to yourself as long as you have something worthwhile to say," Hermione said, smiling; there was, Ginny thought, a slightly brittle edge to the smile. Or maybe she was just paranoid, after her unpleasant encounter with Fiona.

"What are you two here to work on?" Ginny asked, forcing herself to smile back at them.

"Oh, nothing," Hermione said, too casually. If Ginny was a bad liar, Hermione was worse. No doubt she and Ron were digging for some scrap of information that Harry needed so the three of them could get up to their usual mischief. "Nothing interesting in the least. You?"

"My blood magic project for Defense Against the Dark Arts," Ginny lied, feeling smooth in comparison to Hermione. "And I really ought to get going on it. Good luck with your, er, very uninteresting thing!"

"You, too," Ron and Hermione chorused, grinning sheepishly and continuing their search for an available table. Ginny's lucky stars must have been shining, because Ron and Hermione seated themselves far from the Prophet records- hopefully she could read in peace, nagged only by thoughts of her fight with Fiona.

"No, focus," she muttered to herself, dropping her things at a large table occupied by a lone Hufflepuff third-year. "Worry about Fiona later." Leaving her books behind, Ginny wandered among the archive shelves, quickly locating the years she wanted. Lazily, she cast the research spell Hermione had taught her- Reperire Lyra N. Black- so that all the newspapers with references to her subject would glow softly. Saved loads of time, and certainly explained how Hermione could get so very much done.

The first article just listed the year's class of Auror graduates. Lyra Black had been among the top of her class, but not the best. No distinguishing comments were made about her or her family, so Ginny moved on. What she was really hoping to find was a photograph, or some personal information....

She read for an hour, but all the articles were just stories of Auror exploits, missions Lyra Black had been a part of. Nothing pertinent, and no pictures.

What a waste of time, she thought. Perhaps Madam Pince hadn't remembered so correctly, after all, and Ginny was looking in completely the wrong place. Sighing, she decided to read one more article.

Auror Dismissed; Ministry Declines Comment

by Rita Skeeter

"Rita Skeeter," Ginny muttered derisively. "Of course, who else?"

Amidst quite a bit of hubbub and commotion today, ace Auror Lyra Black was stripped of her title and forced to remove herself from Auror Headquarters. Top Ministry officials, including Minister for Magic Lyman Graemes, refused to comment, but speculation about the Aurors' dismissal was rampant. "It's that whole family," declared Milton Wyclyffe, a widower from Devon. "Not a single one of them ever meant to turn out good, and they haven't. I suspect she's been working with You-Know-Who since her Hogwarts days." "For my part, I can't even believe they'd have let her in the Aurors in the first place," commented Doreen Hoodwink of Cornwall. "The Blacks- they might be high society muckety-mucks, but everyone knows where their real loyalties lie."

Muckety-muck or not, Miss Black was apparently unable to refute whatever charges were laid against her, and was forced to accept her dismissal. It remains to be seen whether there is any truth in the rumors about her connections to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named (though they're probably true, now, aren't they?)

For more information, including photographs of the disgraced Auror, see page 7.

Eagerly, Ginny flipped though the pages- at last, a picture- and was nearly to page seven when one of Madam Pince's bony fingers tapped her on the shoulder.

"The library is closing, Miss Weasley."

"But I just have one more little thing-"

"The library is closing, Miss Weasley," the librarian repeated firmly, tone darkening. "You'll just have to come back tomorrow."

"Can't I check this out?" Ginny asked desperately. "I really need to, er, work on this project."

"I'm afraid that archived items cannot be checked out." Madam Pince cleared her throat. "The newspaper, please," she demanded, clearly afraid Ginny would attempt to smuggle it out.

Reluctantly, Ginny handed it over and slouched out of the library. Just when she'd been getting so close to something worthwhile-

"Oy, Ginny, come over here!" Clustered just outside the library was Colin Creevey and a handful of other Quidditch players. As Ginny came closer, she saw that they were all grouped around a pile of shiny photo proofs.

"Our calendar shots," Laurana Godswift said. Ginny smiled at her friend, feeling bad that she hadn't seen much of her recently. But then, she felt liked she'd wronged a lot of people lately.

"Ooh, where's mine?" she asked, trying to be cheery, though her thoughts were still on Lyra Black. How could she have become Order of Merlin, Second Class, when she'd been disgraced?

Colin handed her three five by ten glossies. "Choose the one you like best, the other two are yours to keep."

Ginny squinted at the three images of herself. The first had been taken in the common room, and the glow from the fire put golden highlights in her hair; also, she'd remembered to clear her freckles that morning. The second was wretched- no matter what direction tiny photo-Ginny moved, the angle made her look gaunt, and there were shadows under her eyes. The third had been taken at practice on a wickedly windy day- her Quidditch robe had flown up, revealing quite a bit of leg. Blushing, photo-Ginny kept trying to hold it down, but the wind proved stronger willed than she.

"I like this one," she told Colin, handing him the one that had been taken by the fireplace.

"What are you going to do with the other two?" Laurana asked Ginny, frowning at her own trio of shots.

"One for the garbage," Ginny said, indicating the bad one, "and one for Draco." She held up the one that had been taken on the Quidditch pitch.

Laurana giggled when she looked at the picture Ginny had earmarked for Draco. "I think he'll like it."

"He'd better," Ginny replied. "It's going to be my reconciliation present."

"With the way your robes are whipping around, I think he might end up being glad he got slapped," Laurana said, arching an eyebrow.

Ginny grinned. "I hope so. Anyway, I'm off to put this in his prefect mail. Want to walk with me?"

"Can't." Laurana hesitated, her cheeks turning a becoming pink. "I don't know if you know about this or not, but- I'm meeting Frédéric Belleton."

"Meeting him to put snails in his dinner?" Ginny asked teasingly. She actually hadn't heard any specific news about the two of them, but she'd had a guess that it would happen eventually.

"He's French, he likes snails." Laurana quipped. Her blush deepened. "And no, not exactly. More like the-Astronomy-Tower-but-not-for-Astronomy-homework type of 'meeting him.'"

"Good for you, Laur." Ginny's eyes lit. "You should marry him! We'd be cousins!"

Laurana rolled her eyes. "Sure, that's a great idea. I've really got to go- I'll be late." Waving goodbye, she scurried off down the hall.

Left to her own devices as she made her way to the prefect room, Ginny's temporarily happy mood dissolved, and her mind wandered back to Lyra Black. I should have just taken the article, she thought irritably, knowing it was a stupid idea- the library had all sorts of protection spells to prevent just that. Or if only I knew the Copycat Charm. But the Copycat Charm was sixth-year magic, and there was no way she could have asked Ron or Hermione to help her copy such an inflammatory article into her notebook. Not without having to answer their unpleasant questions, anyway.

Besides, Hermione would have probably given her a little speech about plagiarism and the importance of respecting copyright laws.

By the time Ginny reached the door to the prefects' meeting room, she still didn't have a solution to her problem- all that was left to do was wait until the library opened the next morning. In the meantime, she needed to write Draco a little note. Borrowing a sheet of paper and a pen from Cho's desk, Ginny scribbled a quick message:

Draco,

So you can prove to your friends that I have ridden your broomstick.

And because I truly am sorry.

Ginny hesitated, not sure how she wanted to close her note. She wasn't quite ready for "Love, Ginny;" not yet. "Love, Ginny" was for her parents and brothers- with Draco it would take on an entirely different meaning. Finally, she settled on:

Yours,

-GW

P.S. I told my brothers that I won it in a WWN contest, so don't go spilling the truth to Ron. Or the Nine-Twelve will be the only broomstick of yours that I ever come near.

Folding the note and slipping the photo inside, and then pushing them into Draco's mail drawer, Ginny smiled her first genuine smile of the day.

***