The Phoenix and the Serpent

The Phoenix and the Serpent

The entire Harry Potter universe belongs to J. K. Rowling. Any original characters belong to the author and may not be used without permission.

Chapter XVII: Husks and Promises

"Ginny?"

Startled, Ginny raised her head. She had been completely lost in thought, watching the afternoon sun shimmering on the surface of the lake. Her thoughts had been on Harry, where he was now and what he was doing. She had a moment's confusion upon looking up and seeing his face before her.

It wasn't him, of course. The confusion turned to a stab of sorrow, then Ginny let it pass.

"Sorry," she said, "what were you saying?"

"I just wanted to know if you're ready for the next question," replied the homunculus.

Ginny ran a hand through her tousled red hair. "Yes, yes, please go ahead."

They were sitting together on a flat-bottomed rowboat, adrift on the peaceful lake. Ginny had charmed the oars to paddle by themselves, allowing them to converse while the boat wandered aimlessly on the water. The pleasant weather brought a warm breeze that was sweet with the scent of pine. And though the Black Barrier kept the sun from sparkling as brightly as it should, it's reflection on the lake looked pretty nonetheless, like a school of bright orange fish just beneath the water. On a day like today she would rather be sleeping away the afternoon, but she had an exam and only two days left to prepare for it. She had planned to go off on the lake alone, but the homunculus had asked if he could come, offering to help her study. She agreed.

She had, in the end, given in to Dumbledore's request and allowed herself to befriend the homunculus. The arrangement was not as bad as she'd thought at first, as long as she simply kept in mind that he was not Harry. She and the homunculus spent time together in the past two days, chatting about idle things, and wading through the barrage of questions the homunculus had about the world.

Between them, a flat piece of wood formed a make-shift table, and on it she had placed her study books and writing materials. The homunculus picked up the Arithmancy book on the table and flipped the pages to an exercise.

"A princess is as old as the prince will be when the princess is twice as old as the prince was when the princess' age was half the sum of their present age. What were their ages twenty years ago?"

Ginny gawked at him for an incredulous moment. "You can't be serious! What does that question have to do with Arithmancy? There's nothing magical about it at all!"

"It's a puzzle meant to enhance your skills in analysis and computation," replied the homunculus. "It should help you with the calculation of higher Arithmantic spellworks."

"That's utter bollocks!"

"But it says so right here in the book."

Sighing, Ginny started scribbling numbers on her paper, asking the homunculus to repeat the question three more times. A while later, she slumped forward in defeat. "I hate math," she moaned. "Hate it, hate it. Hate. It. They invented math to torture people, I just know it. I should have ignored Hermione's advice and taken Divination instead."

The homunculus offered a sympathetic smile. "Don't give up now."

"All right, all right," she said, after a few more calculations. "I got it now, it wasn't so hard after all. They were both 30 years old."

"Um, no, sorry. The princess was 20 and the prince was 10."

"What? Let me see that..." She took the book and flipped to the end where the answers were. "Oh, for the love of puppies! I suppose the next question would be 'if they married today, would there be a scandal?' I'd give that a big yes."

The homunculus eyed her warily. "Perhaps you should take a break. You're, um, a little distracted."

"It's not me! These questions are too bloody hard!" Ginny retrieved a pair of Creampuffins from her pocket and put them on the table. The Creampuffins blinked in the sudden sunlight, got to their feet, and began waddling to and fro.

"How do you it, anyway?" she asked, prodding one Creampuffin's belly with her finger.

"Do what?" the homunculus asked politely. He was always polite, which Ginny found amusing. Harry was simply notlike that.

"I mean how you can answer a question as loopy as that without looking at the back of the book. I think it's amazing."

The homunculus' face took on wary look. His eyes darted from one side to the other.

"Oh, come on," chided Ginny. "You can talk about yourself, you know. How can anyone hear us out here in the middle of the lake?"

The homunculus relaxed. "You're right, I suppose. About your question...I don't really know." He scratched his ear. "I'm just built like that, I guess. I don't have trouble remembering things, and figures are quite easy to work out. It's really not a big deal..."

"Oh yes, it is. In my family, only Percy got along well with numbers. Fred and George don't do sums unless it's about money, and when Ron worked on math problems, he'd carry on about migraines and his nose would start running."

The homunculus gave a tight smile, as if this was something more than he needed to know.

"How are you doing with your tryouts for Quidditch?" he abruptly asked.

"Oh, not too badly," she replied, guiding a Creampuffin away from the edge of the table. "I'm trying out for Chaser, and Katie--she's the captain now--thinks I'm the best so far from those who tried out." She grinned. "I guess that means I'm getting in."

His smile widened. "That's good news isn't it? Aren't you happy?"

The way he asked, Ginny was sure he didn't know if this was really something worth being happy about. "Of course I'm happy," she said. But not too happy. If our Seeker actually figures out how to catch a Snitch, then I'll be really happy...

"Don't you have any interest in Quidditch?" she asked him.

The homunculus nodded. "I find it fascinating, to be honest. I like watching the players practice. They're amazing, flying around so quickly, catching balls and shooting them through hoops..."

A question occurred to Ginny, and without thinking she asked, "Don't you feel like...joining them sometimes?"

He seemed puzzled by the question. "I don't think that would be a good idea. My progenitor wouldn't like that." He paused, then changed the subject. "I wonder... why are people so noisy during Quidditch?"

Ginny had wanted a peek on Harry's thoughts, and felt somewhat let down by the homunculus' guarded answer. But she let it pass.

"Noisy? You mean the cheering?"

"Yes."

"People always cheer during Quidditch matches. It's a way to show their enthusiasm for an exciting sport, you know."

"Exciting..." The homunculus looked up, considering the word. "Whenever Harry thought of Quidditch, and whenever he got on his broom to play, he always felt this queer sensation around the pit of his stomach, like the bottom would fall out of it. Then his pulse would quicken, and his thoughts would be focused only on the game...is that excitement?"

Ginny giggled. "Merlin, you really have no clue, do you. Yes, that's a pretty good description."

"It feels a lot like fear, doesn't it? Only more pleasant."

"I suppose so. You mean you've never felt that way?"

"No, not really." He paused again, then clarified, "Well, maybe a little, when I wake up in the morning and think about breakfast..."

Ginny giggled again. "You're really not like Harry at all!" she said. "I'm surprised you can actually fool anyone!"

"I'm sorry," he said, now looking disconcerted. "I try my best. It's just so difficult sometimes, copying human behavior. I mean, jokes, for example..."

"Not that again," groaned Ginny.

"I don't understand why people find them funny," he pressed. "I spend hours trying to figure it out. Why did Seamus and Neville laugh when Dean did that 'Pull my finger' bit with me? It doesn't make any sense."

Ginny sighed. "It's not supposed to make sense, it's supposed to be gross. That's why it's funny."

He shrugged. "That doesn't make any sense either."

"Whatever. Look, when people laugh at a joke, just go along with it, okay?"

He shrugged, his face easing into a smile. "That's what Professor Dumbledore said. 'Laugh at jokes, except the ones made at the expense of others.' I try and do just that."

Ginny recalled the time she rescued him from the Slytherins. "You really think the world of him, don't you? Dumbledore?"

"Well, of course! If it weren't for him, I wouldn't be out here enjoying myself, would I? But besides that," he leaned closer, as if sharing a secret, "he's just such a good person, you know? He makes everything so clear, and he's always patient and kind. He looks out for everyone in the school, and we know we're safe as long as he's around. So I can't stand people who talk behind his back."

"I know what you mean," she said, smiling. "Say, will you tell me something?"

"Yes?"

"Did he make you? Dumbledore?"

"Oh, no," replied the homunculus. "Someone else did, a long time ago. But I don't know who he is, or why he made me."

"Does Dumbledore know?"

"I suppose. I could ask him."

She shook her head. "It doesn't matter. How were you...er, d'you know how you were you made?"

He lapsed into thought, frowning a bit. "I don't remember a lot of what I was before. Professor Dumbledore once told me I was derived from a single human cell. My physical body is actually very close to a human's, but I'm not alive in the same sense humans are. My body runs on magic, though I eat, drink, sleep and breathe just the same to seem human. Also, my body does not have a truly permanent form. I can be magically made and remade to resemble any person whom Professor Dumbledore wishes me to."

"Wow..." said Ginny. She wondered, briefly, what it would be like to have the homunculus resemble her, like a twin sister. Then I'd find out what it's like to be Fred and George.

The homunculus went on. "I don't always look like this. Usually, I'm this small..." he held out his palms six inches apart, "...and I look like a baby in its mother's womb. When I've no reason to be out, Professor Dumbledore keeps me like that and contained in a jar, suspended in liquid nutrient that sustains me."

Ginny tried to imagine the homunculus in a jar, like some sort of pickled fruit. "That doesn't sound very comfortable," she remarked.

"Oh, it's not bad at all!" said the homunculus. "It's very comfortable living in a jar. It was always cool and pleasant and I like the feeling of being suspended. I don't have a sense of time or purpose. I'm only dimly aware of the things going on around me, moving shapes and muffled sounds and all that. I dunno, I really like being out here again, and meeting people like you...but to tell the truth, I'm also looking forward to going back to my jar once Harry gets back two days from now."

"Well, okay," said Ginny, still sounding doubtful, "but I really can't imagine living comfortably all sealed up..." She paused, backtracking on what he said. "Pardon, did I hear you right? Did you say, 'being out here again?'"

"Why, yes I did."

"Dumbledore brought you out before?"

"That's what he told me, yes. He used me to take on different identities in at least three separate occasions over the course of the years."

"But if that's true, if you've been out here before, then how come you don't know how to, er, act more human?"

He scratched his ear again, looking somewhat embarrassed. "Well, the thing is, I don't get to keep the memories Professor Dumbledore gives me. He drains them in order to return me to the jar. So I have no idea who I was before, and each time I go out I have to start fresh."

Ginny reflected on this for a while. "That sounds kind of...sad."

"Huh?"

"I mean, you've lived three different lives before this one, and you don't remember anything from any of them...no happy memories, no good times, no friends. You don't get to keep anything."

The homunculus sat quietly for a moment. "I've never thought of it that way," he finally confessed, "but it's all right, I don't particularly mind. It's my function to impersonate people. There's really no point in remembering my life."

"But you don't have anything," protested Ginny.

He smiled. "I am of use to the Professor. That is enough."

"Well, all right. But...suppose you had something more?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Like?"

"How about your own name?"

"A name?" He goggled at her. "You're suggesting I get my own name?"

"Yeah, why not?"

He looked worried all of a sudden. "Ginny, that doesn't sound like a good idea. Out of my jar, I'm supposed to be Harry Potter, no one else."

"Oh, come on," she said. "You can still act like Harry if you need to. And it's not like we're going to tell everyone about it."

"But why would I need one? I won't remember it for long. Harry's coming back in a few days, and after that, I'm going back to my jar."

"Because we both know you're not Harry. Wouldn't it be nice to have something you can call your own, even for a short time? Your own identity? And besides, it's not just for your benefit. I'll be honest, okay? I'm really not comfortable calling you Harry. It...it doesn't really feel right. Sorry."

"Oh...I had no idea."

"Well, I don't want to keep saying, 'Hey,' when I see you, so I'd like you to have your own name. Don't worry, I'll use it only when it's the two of us. How 'bout it? "

"I...well...let me think." He paused, brows knitting. "I suppose as long as we don't use it out in the open, it won't do any harm..."

"Great! So..." Ginny picked up her quill and wrote "Names" on a fresh parchment. "What's a good name you could use?"

"Well, I've always like the name Albus. Can I use that?"

"Um, well..."

"Not a good idea? Uh...how about Dean?"

"Um...I don't think so."

"And I really liked that one too. How about...Sirius? No?"

Ginny put her quill down. "It would be nice if you could pick a name that doesn't belong to someone we already know. I mean, the whole point of this is to be somewhat unique, right?" As the she pondered the matter, the Creampuffins sidled up to her quill to stare at it curiously. "Maybe something related to Harry's name would be more useful, so in case anyone hears it, you and I can explain by saying you picked out a new nickname."

He looked doubtful. "A nickname? But Harry's short enough as it is..."

"Yeah...unless..." Ginny suddenly perked up. "I got it! Jamie!"

He blinked at her, not comprehending. "Jamie?"

"It's from James, Harry's middle name. What do you think?"

"Jamie," he repeated.

"It's easy enough to remember, and...well, let's face it, anyone who hears me call you anything other than Harry will think I'm kind of weird anyway. I'll just say I like calling you Jamie."

"Jamie..." The homunculus's face broke into another Harry-like smile. "I think I can get used to it..."

"Perfect! Now you're one step closer to being more human." She leaned back with her hands on the boat floor, enjoying the sun for a while. It won't be warm for much longer, she thought, thinking of the cool winds of October. It was good she took time to enjoy this day.

She was amused to find that her Creampuffins had started a rousing game of tug-of-war. Sugar-bloated wings flapping, her quill stuck firmly in their beaks, they skittered from one side to another, trying to determine the prize's owner. After a few minutes of this spectacle, her eyes strayed to her right, watching the shore as it slowly wove past them. Then her good mood instantly vanished.

Just beyond the shore rose a gently sloping hummock, crowned by a tiny copse of trees. The place was as she remembered it: the gentle rain of crisp, brown leaves, the soft sway of faded grass, and if she looked hard enough, she would surely see dandelions carpeting the ground in tiny white blossoms. It wouldn't be long before they'd be buried under the first fall of snow. Must the winter come so soon?

She closed her eyes and mentally sent a wish to the dandelions. Keep him safe, wherever he is, she thought, and when he returns, let him tell me...

"Is it really important for people to have their own names?" Jamie suddenly asked.

Hearing Harry's voice gave her a jolt. It's not him, get ahold of yourself.

"Of course," replied Ginny, without opening her eyes. "It's the first thing your parents give you the moment you're born. And it's yours for the rest of your life."

"I really wouldn't know that," said the homunculus thoughtfully, "since I was never born and never had parents."

She opened her eyes at this. "Does that bother you?"

"No, I don't feel anything about it at all. It's beyond my experience, so I don't understand it."

"But Harry's parents...surely you remember them..."

"I do, but..." He shook his head. "I remember names, faces, events, but I don't remember the feelings that go with them. I can remember having eaten an apple, I remember it's supposed to be sweet, but I can't recall the taste of it or the pleasure of eating it. That's my weakness, Ginny. That's why I don't think I make a very convincing human." He leaned towards her, eyes bright. "But maybe you can help me there."

Ginny gave him a quizzical stare. "What do you mean?"

"You've read a lot of books, right? Maybe you can recommend a few, stuff that could help me understand people better. What do you think?"

"I-I'm not sure how to help," she said. "What kind of books do you mean?"

"I mean the kind that show how people feel and react to situations realistically," said Jamie. "Stuff that can give me some idea of how people really are. How they love and hate, what they think is funny or sad, that sort of thing. So, can you help?"

"Well," said Ginny slowly, "the best way to know something is to experience it, at least that's how I see it. But if you want to learn about people through books, I guess you'll learn the most through stories."

"Stories?"

"Absolutely. The good ones can show you so much about being human. I think it's because when their authors made them, they put in so much of what they know and experience. Some say they give away a piece of their soul."

The homunculus tilted his head to one side. "Soul? I remember the word, but not..."

"I'll have a difficult time explaining it, so don't ask me," hurried Ginny. "Just read a few stories, okay? Then you'll know what I mean."

"And you know a few, right? Good ones?" His face took on a hopeful look, an expression she'd never seen on Harry's face before.

Ginny was about to say yes, then stopped. A thought occurred to her, something she had wanted to ask before, yet always backed down. And before the more discreet part of her could protest, she said, "I'll help...for a price."

Jamie looked somewhat taken aback. "A price?"

"You want information, don't you? I want information too."

"O-okay. About what?"

"Later. First, you need books, right?" She picked up another piece of parchment, retrieved her quill from the Creampuffins, and started making a list of assorted books she could use.

By the time she handed the list over, Jamie was smiling from ear to ear. He beamed as he looked the list over and thanked her profusely.

"So," he said afterwards, "what did you want to ask me?"

Ginny took a deep breath, and said, "It's about Harry."

She paused, considering again. I shouldn't ask him. It's between Harry and me, and should stay that way.

But the opportunity was here; Jamie was watching her, waiting for her to continue. And the temptation to ask was too much.

"It's somewhat...I mean, this may sound funny to you..." she began.

The homunculus looked apprehensive. "You mean it's a joke? I'm really not too good with those."

"No, it's not a joke! This is serious stuff, and I'd really, really appreciate it if you don't tell Harry I asked you this when he gets back."

He raised his eyebrows. "Oh...well, if you say so. But...why?"

Ginny made an impatient gesture. "Because it's terribly personal, and I'd be extremely embarrassed if he ever heard a word of it."

"Oh, I see." He nodded, his expression growing serious. He folded the list and slipped it into his pocket. "In that case, you can count on me. I swear I won't tell anyone else."

Ginny gave him a nervous smile. She cleared her throat and composed herself.

"Yes, well, here goes," she said. "Jamie...about Harry..."

She paused, suddenly at a loss. The words, so easy in her head, suddenly became slippery on her tongue. Should she find a better way to phrase it? But what if he took it the wrong way? What if he reacted just like Harry did?

For many moments, her mouth worked wordlessly. The homunculus still gazed at her, waiting for her question. Finally, Ginny squeaked, "How does... how does Harry...see me?"

The homunculus regarded her in silence, then he cracked a smile and leaned back. "Oh, is that all? That's easy."

Unconsciously, Ginny held her breath.

"You see," he began, "all kinds matter, like you for instance, reflect light to some degree. The light you reflect travels through space and enters through cornea of Harry's eyes. It then passes through the vitreous fluid to the optic nerve--"

Ginny's breath came out in a rush. "That is NOT what I MEANT!"

The homunculus blinked. "Huh?"

"By how does he see me, I meant how does he like me."

"Oh." Jamie shrugged. In that case, he likes you just fine."

She narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean by 'just fine?'"

"Well..." He thought a moment. "I mean he thinks you're really nice, like I do."

"Nice?"

"Yeah. Nice."

Ginny took a deep breath. This was getting her nowhere, but she might as well play along. "All right, Jamie. Nice in what way? What about me does he think is nice?"

The homunculus thought for a minute. "Nice..." he mused. "He thinks your family is nice."

Oh, brother, thought Ginny.

"He thinks the Burrow is nice. He thinks the stuff you like--reading, making scarves, Creampuffins--are nice too. He thinks your stories and jokes are nice. They make him laugh."

Hokay, that's enough. Ginny was about to ask him to stop, when he added, "He thinks your hands are nice."

Her mouth dropped open. "My...hands?"

"Yeah. He likes how soft and small they are. He sometimes thought about how smooth your skin felt when you held his hand."

Ginny suddenly could not find her voice.

"He thinks your hair is nice," the homunculus added, resting his chin on his hand. "He likes the color, especially when it's undone and shining in the sunlight. He thinks your smile is nice. He likes how it calls attention to your freckles, which he also likes. And he likes the color of your eyes. Like, I dunno, cinnamon, or something..."

Unbidden, Ginny's fingers touched her face. Her cheeks were burning.

"He likes to hear you laugh. He likes the way you fall asleep with your cheek resting on your hand. He likes it that you like things that are small and meaningless to anyone but you. Like flowers and seeds and little animals and words strung together in ways no one had ever thought of before."

Jamie sat still a moment, then he seemed to break out of his reverie. He brushed back his hair and smiled, actions that brought a familiar pang in Ginny. "You see?" he said. "Harry thinks you're quite nice. I could name some more things for you, but I'd probably go on forever."

"Please do," whispered Ginny.

"I'm sorry?"

"Um, nothing," Ginny shifted her eyes away from him. "How come he's never told me this?"

"I...well...I believe he thought they were rather stupid things to say."

"But why?"

He frowned a little. "I...don't really know."

She bit her lip. "But he...he likes me?"

"Of course he does."

"But...does he like me...as a friend?"

"Absolutely."

"No!" She turned to him. "Not like that...I mean, oh, what do I mean?" She buried her face in her hands. "Does he think of me the way Ron thinks of Hermione?"

She peered through her fingers. There was confusion in Jamie's eyes. "I'm not sure I understand what you mean," he said slowly. "Harry's never talked to Ron about that."

Ginny lowered her trembling hands. She clasped them together, sucked in another deep breath and asked, "What does Harry feel for me? Am I special to him? He's kept me in the dark for so long I can't guess what he's thinking. But I just have to know, I don't want to wait anymore. I need you to tell me if you can." She looked up at him earnestly. "Does he...does he love me?"

There was a stillness in Jamie's eyes, and his face had an unreadable look. He was quiet for a long moment, then he leaned forward. "Ginny..."

Ginny found herself leaning forward as well.

"Ginny," he said, "Ginny, I'm sorry. I don't know how to tell you this..."

She felt something sink inside of her, and cast her eyes down.

"I'm truly, truly sorry," he said, "but I really don't understand your question."

It was all Ginny could do to stop herself from picking up an oar and knocking him into water. "I think. It's time. We got back." Each phrase was said through gritted teeth, and punctuated by a flick of her wand. The oars began rowing them ashore.

Jamie was watching her face with a look of apprehension. "I'm really sorry, Ginny. I promise to get back to you on that once I understand it better. Love, and all that. Harry didn't have, well, he never thought about it much and I've little to go on...um, are you all right?"

"Yeah. Just. Peachy." Ginny grumbled. Three more beats of her wand, and the oars rowed faster.

"Ginny?" He sounded a little more scared.

She didn't answer, keeping her gaze fixed on a spot somewhere over Jamie's shoulder.

"Ginny? I think we should slow down..."

"It's fine. Really fine. I'm fine, you're fine, everything's fine. I really need to get back already. Fine with you? Fine."

"Um, Ginny?"

"WHAT?"

"Look out for that--!"

There was an almighty crash as the boat struck a rock protruding above the water. Ginny squealed, grabbing the sides of the boat as it lurched sharply to the left. Her reflexes saved her, but her ink bottle, the Creampuffins, and the homunculus pitched over the side and fell into the water with a loud SPLASH!

"Oh, ogrespit!" cried Ginny. As the boat righted itself, she leaned over the water and shouted, "Jamie! Jamie, where are you?" She wondered, in a panic, if he also remembered how to swim.

She needn't have worried. A breath later, the homunculus' head burst out of the surface of the water, blinking and coughing out water. Beside him, floating more effortlessly, bobbed the two Creampuffins. Three pairs of eyes looked up at her in complete bemusement.

"Oh, Jamie, Jamie, I'm so sorry," wailed Ginny. "I didn't see it, I should've listened to you! Are you all right? Here, let me--"

"Er," he said, "I take it you don't want me in the boat? Should I just swim to shore?"

Ginny stared at him for a moment. His face and tone seemed so earnest and deferential, that at last she could not help herself--she laughed out loud.

The homunculus blinked up at her. "When Dumbledore told me not to laugh at jokes made at the anyone's expense," he said slowly, "does that include me?"

---

When they made it ashore, she casted a Drying Charm on his robes and hair. The homunculus tilted his head from side to side to get rid of the water in his ears, then finally sat down on the shore beside Ginny. "Thanks for helping me out. I didn't have that spell..." He gestured at his wand.

"No problem," came her reply. "Just correcting one of my little injustices. Look, I'm really, really sorry, all right? I had this terrible moment when I thought you'd drown, or your body would dissolve in water, or something."

He smiled at her. "You don't have to worry about that, I'm as insoluble as any human. That's a good thing--I mean, people at the dorm would be suspicious if I didn't bathe everyday like they did."

"Or if you started melting in the shower," she giggled again. "So, you can do pretty much everything a human can? You really are amazing."

He paused. "Oh, there are some things Dumbledore forbade me ever to do, because they'd give me away."

She peered at him curiously. "Like what?'

He looked around again, making sure they were alone. "Firstly," he said in a low whisper, "I must never let myself bleed. And second, I must never cry."

"Why not?"

He opened his mouth to answer, but then stopped himself, looking over Ginny's shoulder. Ginny turned at the sound of running feet and saw someone running full tilt towards them.

"Hermione?" cried Ginny as her friend came to a stop, sweating and breathless, before them. "What's the matter?" It was not so much Hermione's haste than the look of urgency on her face that pushed Ginny to ask. But some part of her already knew the answer.

"Professor Dumbledore," Hermione gasped. "He's calling a meeting."

---

The headmaster had been explicit with his instructions. Leaving her things in the care of the homunculus, Ginny and Hermione hastened back to Hogwarts and proceeded to the fifth floor. Turning left at a branch from the main corridor, they approached the broom closet situated in the middle of the right wall. They came here because Dumbledore believed that the main entrance to his office was too open, and going there would not go unnoticed by watchful eyes. An alternate route was needed.

They acted as nonchalant as they could, but Ginny could feel Hermione's tension from the way she squared her shoulders and how her eyes flicked from side to side. Ginny felt her own heart thrumming loudly in her chest. Dumbledore would have no reason to call them just a few days before Harry was scheduled to return, unless something had happened. Unless there was trouble.

"Well," breathed Hermione, staring at the door. "Here we are. He said he'd enchanted it, so I expect we shouldn't have trouble."

"He didn't say why he wanted to talk to us?" asked Ginny.

"Not a word. I just received a written message telling me what to do and to bring you with me. Ron would be informed as well. The message vanished as soon as I finished reading it."

The mention of her brother gave Ginny a sudden jolt. Ron had no idea that Harry had visited her the night he left, nor any idea why Harry would do something like that. He'd be wondering why his sister would be present in this meeting, and at the moment Ginny could not think of a good explanation.

It was too late anyway. Hermione, after looking both ways to make sure no one was coming from either side of the corridor, tapped the doorknob twice with her wand and said, "Eciffo S'erodelbmud!"

Nothing happened, or at least Ginny thought nothing did. But when Hermione pulled the door open, what appeared before them was not the cramped insides of a broom closet, but the spacious confines of the headmaster's office. Bewildered, they stepped through the threshold. The door clicked shut behind them and vanished into thin air.

"A Trans-Portal," marveled Hermione, "and what a clever disguise for it!"

"Why thank you, Miss Granger. I'm glad it still works after all this time. We are fortunate the Black Barrier's influence does not extend to the systems confined within Hogwarts."

Dumbledore emerged from behind a bookshelf, wearing a pale gray robe decorated with the deep blue silhouettes of nightingales. His tone was even and friendly, but Ginny noticed the trace of shadows beneath his eyes.

"Welcome," he said. "Let's sit down while we wait for Ronald, shall we?"

With a flick of his wrist, four chairs zoomed out from the shadowy corners towards the headmaster's desk, jostling each other as they vied for attention. Ginny chose the cushiest one, while Hermione sat down on the one with a straight back. To their surprise, Dumbledore did not sit behind his desk as usual, but chose a third chair beside Hermione. They sat together in a small semi-circle.

He started to offer them sweets, but Hermione could not wait. "Please sir, has something happened? Is Harry all right?"

Dumbledore paused. "You will know everything in a moment. Rest assured, I will answer your question as best I can. However, for the sake of efficiency, Ronald should be present--but here is now..."

Another click of a shutting door, and Ron's voice floated over to them. "Sorry I'm late, Professor, we were about to start Quidditch practice when I got your message, and I had bit of a moment explaining to the captain--Ginny?"

She turned her head to see her brother striding over, still dressed in his red and gold Quidditch uniform. He eyed her quizzically.

"Nevermind me," Ginny said, trying to buy time. "The Professor's about to tell us something important."

"Indeed," said Dumbledore as he activated the Security Charms of the office. "There will time for explanations later. Please take a seat, we won't take long."

Ginny looked away as Ron sat down, but from the corner of her eye she could tell his gaze lingered on her for some time.

"Now then," Dumbledore began, "as you may have guessed, I have news concerning Harry's situation. Forgive me for being blunt, but the news is not very good." He proceeded to give a quick and detailed explanation of what had transpired.

By the time he was done, however, Ginny's head was spinning with shock. Ron's face was pinched in worry, and Hermione looked so pale Ginny was scared she would faint.

"An...an ancient vampire?" Ron muttered weakly. "He killed an ancient vampire?"

"Corpulus disease..." breathed Hermione. "And Death Eaters...oh my."

Ginny could not find it in herself to say anything.

"S-sir," said Hermione, "is he all right? Isn't Corpulus...fatal?" Her voice fell on the last word. Ron gave her a look of alarm.

Dumbledore turned her kindly gaze at her. "I don't think we need worry about that. The Healer we sent made sure he would be cured, and in all likelihood he has completely recovered by now."

"So...where is he?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Because of the Black Barrier, we are unable to communicate with them nor transport them quickly to safety. While we are sure Harry and his companions are alive, we do not know exactly where they are. All we can assume is they are heading for the nearest place of safety. That would have been Dunwick, but now it can be any number of places. Continuing the search is all we can do for now."

"But with the Death Eaters after them..."

"Sirius and Remus will not stop until they find Harry first and deliver him to safety. And Harry's bodyguards are not behind with their combat skills. Bringing him home is top priority for the Order and its allies."

"But sir," interjected Hermione, "the Death Eaters shouldn't have known he was there! If everything has been planned in secret, how could You-Know-Who have found out about it?"

"I am not certain, but I believe the Dark Lord does not know," the headmaster said, "or to be more accurate, he does not know he knows."

Ron and Hermione exchanged confused looks. "Er, I'm not getting you, Professor," said Ron.

"If he was certain that Harry would be in Hillsdale, there would not have been four Death Eaters there to capture him, but four dozen. No, those men were spies, sent to investigate a lead."

"But where would they get the lead? Unless a spy had been feeding them information..."

"That is possible, but not likely, since we have done this mission with utmost secrecy. And none of you knew of Hillsdale save for Alastor Moody and myself."

"Then how could he have known?" asked Ron, completely stumped.

Dumbledore steepled his fingers. "Most likely, through a hunch."

Ginny, Ron, and Hermione goggled at him.

"It is simple enough, once you think deeply about it," Dumledore said. "Harry is known to have dreams of the Dark Lord. He often has nightmares, and his scar aches in conjunction with whatever intense emotions the Dark Lord experiences. This is due to the psychic link forged between them by a Killing Curse that failed.

"Yet this link can certainly work both ways. If Harry can sometimes see things through the Dark Lord's eyes..."

"Then the opposite can also be true!" said Hermione, comprehension dawning on her face. "He can see through Harry's eyes!"

"Or see Harry's memories," added the headmaster. "The Dark Lord is skilled in Legilimency, the art of drawing emotions and memories from another person's mind. Admittedly, this is something unexpected, and will be dealt with accordingly from now on. But before any of that, we must bring Harry to sanctuary. Nothing can be done before then."

Ron spoke up. "So, You-Know-Who isn't sure if Harry's really out of Hogwarts, right? He's just guessing?"

"That is what we believe, yes."

"But we have that homunculus here! Isn't that good enough proof?"

"The Dark Lord has a powerful intuition, Ronald. There are times even his guesses, though far-fetched, prove to be accurate. He is well aware of that."

"Then, what good is having a double for Harry?"

"It will do us good still," Dumbledore said. His face remained calm, yet

his voice carried a tone of finality. "Now, more than ever, the three of you must continue to pretend Harry is here in Hogwarts. In time, the Death Eaters may give up their chase and turn their attentions back to the war. That, after all, is what we of the Order want them to do. Yet even here they have eyes, and we must do nothing that will let Lord Voldermort know of our plans, nor let him confirm his own suspicions."

The mention of that dread name cast a pall over their gathering. Hermione paled again, and Ron nearly leaped out of his chair. Ginny, however, stayed stock still.

The look in Dumbledore's eyes softened. "I am truly sorry," he said, "but in all likelihood, Harry will not be able to return in the time we agreed on. We may hope, of course, for the Black Barrier to be somehow dispelled or for another means to bring Harry here to present itself...but as things lie: it is not likely."

---

They left the office together, through the same broom closet they entered. For some time, no one said anything. The air felt heavy with gloom at the thought of Harry not being with them, at least not anytime soon. For Ginny, it was not so much a thought as a weight upon her heart. How much longer did she have to wait?

"Well," said finally Hermione. "Well."

"He's alive," said Ron in a distracted manner. "As long as he's alive, we're good."

"And it might not take that long to find him, really," added Hermione. "I mean, the Order's looking for him, right? And they've got Sirius and Remus, don't they? And Mad-Eye Moody. And another bodyguard."

"Yep," said Ron, "good hands. He's in good hands."

Ginny stared at them astonishment. "Don't talk about it here," she admonished. "Who knows who might be listening!"

Her voice seemed to snap Ron out of his torpor. He turned to her and said, "I don't understand why you're involved in this, Ginny."

Ginny opened her mouth to reply, only to shut it again. What exactly could she say?

"Ginny's a friend of Harry too, Ron," Hermione explained. "Professor Dumbledore just thought it would help if she could..."

"Why'd he ask her?"

"Why do you think? Because she's your sister, and can be trusted with this!"

"Look, I already told you not to talk about it," interrupted Ginny. "We're putting Harry in danger by--"

"It's because she's my sister's the reason why she shouldn't be part of this," Ron argued, as if he hadn't heard her. "She's too young for this sort of thing! What am I going to tell Mum if she--"

"Oh, drop it Ron!" Ginny shouted. Right now that was the last thing she wanted to hear. "Just drop it, okay?"

Both Ron and Hermione looked taken aback, but Ginny turned and stalked away.

"I've every right to be where I want to be," she muttered as she walked, "considering what I've been through on Harry's account." She was so focused on thinking about him that she didn't realize where her feet were taking her. She was slightly surprised to find herself standing in front of the portrait hole of Gryffindor Tower, with the Fat Lady peering expectantly down at her.

"Um..." Ginny demurred. She tried to call up the password, but her mind kept drawing blanks. "I...uh...I'm really sorry, I can't seem to remember..."

"Well, you know what to do, right?" the Fat Lady said kindly.

Ginny sighed. "Find someone who does." But before she could turn around, a familiar voice behind her spoke up. "Salamander Skittersweets."

The door popped open, and Ginny turned to see the one face she least wanted to see at the moment.

"Hi Ginny," the homunculus said, smiling brightly at her. "I've decided to get started on the list you gave me. I borrowed these--" he lifted the stack of books in his hands a little higher "--from the Library. It's more than half the list."

"Oh," said Ginny. "Right."

"I suppose I'm 'excited' to start reading then," he added, relishing the word. "Say, wanna go through them with me? You've probably read them dozens of time before, but..."

"No. Thanks."

He looked confused, and slightly hurt, by her aloofness. "Oh... all right," he said. "I'll go right up to bed and get started. See you later, okay?" And he strolled past her into the common room. She heard his steps receding as he climbed up the stairs to the boy's dormitory.

For a long moment she remained where she was, facing away from the entrance, gazing at nothing. Only when the Fat Lady cleared her throat did she finally turn and make her way into the common room.

Only a handful of people were present. Three first years busied themselves doing homework in one corner, Seamus and Dean were playing Exploding Snap near the stairs, and Lavender and Parvati were warming their hands near the fire and laughing about how Professor Cowl managed to put even Nearly-Headless Nick to sleep during their last Potions class. The usual liveliness of the Gryffindor Tower had been dampened somewhat ever since the Barrier went up, but people did their best to stay cheerful. No one, thankfully, noticed her come in. She chose a high-back chair near the window, faced it away from everyone, and slouched into the cushions.

Outside, the sun had finally begun its slow descent through the treetops of the Forbidden Forest. The Black Barrier had turned it to amber, like the last glow of a spent campfire.

Everything will turn out all right, she thought, watching the dusk arrive. Dumbledore said it will all be all right, and he's never failed us before.

But these only echoed Jamie's words, and they offered her no comfort.

"What makes you so sure?" she whispered. "As far as my family's concerned, we don't even have a home. The Burrow's now in Dark Army territory. Mum, Dad, Bill and Charlie, they're all in the Order, fighting both the Dark Army and the Ministry of Magic. Who knows what will happen to them? And Percy, the utter git, breaking Mum's heart by not lifting a finger to help. And Harry..."

She felt misery permeate through every inch of her skin. The thought of Harry out there somewhere in the wilderness, without food or shelter and hounded by an army of Death Eaters, made her sick with worry. And to think that just an hour ago, she'd been more concerned about something so trivial as his feelings for her! For all they knew, he could be dead by now! From disease, or the elements, or a Death Eater's curse, or...

This was how she felt the night Harry left--so helpless and small, easily crushed by sudden a change in her life. She hated the thought that Harry was beyond her help. What use was she? What was her place in all this? What could she do other than worry?

I want to see him, she thought, shutting her eyes tightly and trying not to cry. 'I just want to see him; not a dream or a memory, not some double who can't even figure out what feelings are. I want to know Harry's all right. I want him to rest and not bother with war, even for a little while. But most of all, I want him near me.

I want Harry.

She stayed there with her eyes closed, undisturbed in her little space. Sounds began to fade around her; people were retreating to their respective dormitories. Some unknown time later, she opened her eyes to the gentle sound of approaching footsteps. Through the window, she could see that the sun had long quit the sky, and dim moonlight illuminated the forest canopy. Only the brightest stars were visible through the Barrier.

Hermione appeared on her right. "Hi, Ginny," she said quietly. "Are you all right?"

Ginny simply nodded.

"Oh, who are you fooling?" Hermione bent down and hugged her. "I know you're not. Neither are we. And it's okay."

There was really nothing to be said, no real words of comfort. Hermione understood that. Ginny hugged her back, and this silent act eased the ache inside of her.

After a while, Hermione let go. "I'm a little tired," she said, "I'm going up to bed. You ought to as well, after..." She smiled and nodded to someone on the other side of Ginny's chair.

Ginny looked to her left. Ron stood there, towering over her.

"Heya," he said. He grinned an uncomfortable grin.

"Hi," said Ginny tentatively.

They fell silent as Hermione's footsteps faded into the background.

"Not feeling too well either, are you?" he asked.

She shrugged. "What time is it?"

"Just a little after nine."

Ginny wanted to get up and follow Hermione to the dormitory, but Ron knelt beside her chair. Surprised, she stayed where she was.

He said, "Hermione and I...we've been talking..."

"Yes?"

"About Harry mostly. Then a little about you. Hermione tried to explain a lot about what's been going on."

She sighed. "Let me guess, you didn't like much what you heard."

"Let me finish, why don't you?" he grumbled. After taking a deep breath he said, "We don't talk a lot, do we?"

She stared at him, trying to figure out what he was getting at. "No, I suppose not."

"I don't keep track of you anymore, not like I used to. And it looks like a lot of stuff happened to you that I never had a clue about. I guess that's kind of expected, it's

just that I never thought you'd, ah..."

"Grow up?"

He grinned. "Yeah, a little. No, the way Hermione talked about you, I guess

a lot. But my point is, I didn't think you'd have your own problems, that you're probably having a hard time of this too. Then I started thinking, you know, 'what's my little sister going through?'"

He looked so earnest, so open, that for once she didn't mind the term 'little sister.'

"It's kind of overwhelming, you know?" he went on, turning his gaze down. "The world's at war, and I don't know if we're ever going to see the Burrow again. Or Mum and Dad, or our brothers, come to that. Sometimes I feel so stupid and small and helpless. Sometimes I think I'll go mad."

"I...I feel the same way," whispered Ginny. That made him look into her eyes.

"But I get by somehow," he said. "I get past it."

"How?" she asked. To her surprise he averted his eyes, his face flushing.

"Hermione," he said. "Hermione makes all the difference.

"Somehow just being with her and talking about it...somehow it makes things easier. None of it all goes away, we're still pretty miserable. It's just that, when I'm with her, our lot's somehow bearable. There's a reason to get up in the morning and think, 'maybe today won't be so bad.' And sometimes, it isn't."

He looked back at her. "But then I wonder, how does Harry get through it?

"He's got a lot more to face than I do. He wakes up every day knowing he's connected to You-Know-Who every moment he's alive. The Dark Army's out to kill him, and lots of people think he's a liar or a nutcase. What keeps him going? And who's he got to keep him going?"

Ginny said, "He's got you and Hermione, of course."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. And we help him out however we can, but...you know, it's kind of not...not the same between us anymore, is it. Not since Hermione and I got together." He shrugged vaguely. "You understand?"

"I...think so..."

"Hermione and I've both got someone to lean on. There are things we talk about that Harry can't be a part of. But who's Harry got? No one. Well, not yet." He gazed at her intently.

"Ron..." she stopped, not knowing what to say. "What in the world are you getting at?"

He sighed. "What I'm mean is...oh, what the hell do I mean?" He scratched his crown of red hair. "I think it's a good idea, you and Harry being together."

"Ron, of all the..." She grasped for words, off-balanced and utterly embarrassed. "W-why are we even talking about this? It's-it's really not important now. It's all so trivial--"

"What are you talking about?" said Ron hotly. "Of course it's important! Haven't you heard a word I said?"

Ginny blinked.

"Didn't I say that the only reason I can get up in the morning is because I've got Hermione? Didn't I say that being with her makes it all better? Don't you get it?"

At her confused expression, he muttered, "I thought you girls are supposed to be experts on these things. All right, listen. Like I said, I was talking to Hermione, and when she told me about you two, I was surprised. Really surprised. Yes, to be honest, I didn't like it. I mean, this is my little sister we're talking about--I know, I know, you're not a kid anymore, don't bite my head off." He shook his head. "I honestly wasn't thrilled by the idea.

"But then I got to thinking...what's really important, anyway? Harry's life is hard enough as it is, especially now. It's so hard he can't even talk about it with anyone. I guess because he thinks no one can really understand him. But he can't go on like that. He's got to have someone to make life easier for him. The way Hermione and I make life easier for each other." He fell silent, then added, "I reckon...I reckon everybody deserves to feel like we do at least once in their life. And, well, if you two feel that way...that's good, right?"

Ginny stared at him, speechless. She'd never thought she'd live to hear Ron say something like this.

"Well, you do feel that way for him, don't you?"

She said, "I feel so much for Harry, it hurts. But I-I'm not sure how he feels about me."

Ron crossed his arms in thought. "It didn't sound like that from the way Hermione told me. It sounds like he fancies you..."

She glared at him. "You're his friend. Don't you know?"

"I, well, no...honestly, I never noticed."

"You ought to know these things!"

"Don't blame me, I was busy with Hermione, okay? I-I mean...busy...well, uh, besides, I never really thought you were old enough to start dating!"

"And now?"

"I still think you're not old enough. But then, Mum and I'll probably think that for the rest of your life. So...well...just go ahead and prove us wrong, all right? When he gets back, sort out whatever needs to be sorted out and carry on with it. I mean, life's too short and all that." His voice dropped a notch. "If you can, make him happy, even just a little. The git needs it. You both do, I guess."

Ron may not have noticed, but Ginny was seeing him now in a new light. Today, perhaps for the first time, she had absolutely proof that her brother really did love her.

He pursed his lips. "You're not going to cry on me, are you?" he asked.

"No, you dork." Wiping her moist eyes, she whispered, "Ron...thank you."

"Don't mention it. I mean that. Especially to Mum." He sighed. "My little sister and my best mate. Oh well, it could've been worse. Imagine if you fell for Malfoy..."

They both shuddered. "Not if he were the last breathing man on earth," she vowed. "I'd sooner marry the giant squid."

"And I'd be the best man," Ron averred, and they laughed.

"That Harry," he said when they recovered, "I swear, he's nothing but trouble. He promised Hermione and I we'd be having butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks after two weeks. And where is he now?" He looked sadly out the window. "Where is he?"

"Harry isn't really very good with keeping promises," said Ginny. Part of her felt bad having a go at someone who wasn't around to defend himself, but Ron only laughed again.

"Yeah," he said. "It's probably not his fault. But you know, he does keep a lot of stuff secret, and that really pisses me off."

"I know." She followed his gaze out the window. "But we have to trust him. He has to realize we do, and that he can trust us."

"Yeah," Ron murmured. "If that's all we can do for now to help, all right. I'll trust him."

And for a little while, Ginny felt at peace. After a moment's silence, she said, "Just one question."

"Yup?"

"Aren't your knees aching?"

"Kind of." He got to his feet with some effort, and stretched. "Ouch. Ah well, it's getting late. I'm off to bed. G'night, Ginny."

Then Ron did something he almost never did. After making sure no one was looking their way, he bent down and gave her a hug. He was quite brief about it, but not so brief that Ginny didn't have time to hug him right back.

---

It was nearly ten when Ron, weary but content, finally climbed up the stairs to the boys' dormitory. He changed and went straight to bed, and as usual did not even spare the homunculus a glance.

The homunculus did not notice him, though. He sat in his pajamas by the nighttable, idly writing by candlelight. Having done all his homework, he had come up with an entertaining way to end the day. A minute later, he put down his quill and admired his handiwork.

He had spent a good while writing the name 'Jamie' over and over, till finally he had filled both sides of the piece of parchment. His reason for doing this was simple: he wanted the pleasure of seeing it written, his very own name, the one thing that, at least for a little while, truly belonged to him.

"Jamie," he murmured, a soft smile crossing his face. "Jamie." It was his treasure, something he could keep at his bedside to look at every night, and something to whisper to himself every day till the moment he had to return to his jar.

He slipped the parchment into his drawer and turned his attention to the list of books Ginny had given him. Which one should he read first? They all looked so interesting, each an open portal to the human mind. He picked one at random, selecting the book from the bottom of the stack. Then he got into bed, settled himself, and began to read.

The title on the flyleaf was The Little Mermaid, written long ago by a Muggle author so famous his works were read through the years by many open-minded wizards. In the long days to come, the homunculus would read this story over and over, and eventually would know it by heart. And though he did not yet realize it, this story would come to shape his life, his dreams, and for good or ill, his final fortune.

To be continued

Chapter XVIII: "Medals and Scars"