As It Once Was

It was a glorious day. Ginny Weasley ran from the front door of the Burrow at break neck speed. The wind blew back her hair and the magnificent breeze tickled her features. Ginny threw back her head for a moment to enjoy the sweet smell of the fresh, green grass under her feet. September 1 couldn't have started in a more glorious way.

Ginny was very excited to start her fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Fifth years were respected upperclassmen. She was a teenager who had earned her mother's trust and the friendship of the school the previous year. That year, traces of the shy, awkward girl who had started her schooling five years previously had still lingered. Now, Ginny was a young lady, with smooth red hair and the most perfect figure that a fifteen year old was ever graced with.

Don't get bigheaded, Ginny, the scolding, yet familiar voice that Ginny carried in her head. You've still got a long way to go before you are a woman, before you have discovered your true being. The scolding companion could not have bothered Ginny that morning. She was simply too happy. Happy to be off to school, happy that she would take her O.W.L.s and prove to everyone that she was as smart as any of her older siblings. To join the Quidditch team and make her mark on Hogwarts school. I don't care if I'm not my true being. I couldn't be happier. Nothing can go wrong this year. I don't think that You-Know-Who will try and attack Hogwarts this year at all. You are so simple, so naive, Ginny. You know that Voldemort will not leave your life because you have developed greatly in mind and body since you encountered him in your first year. In fact, you have two brothers who are going to start training to become combat wizards. Don't remind me, Ginny thought with bitterness. Why did things like Voldemort have to come to her mind when she was nothing but happy. When she was nothing but joyous and looking forward on life?

"Ginny! Come on dear, we have to get moving or we'll be late!" Ginny was yanked from her thoughts by her mother's irritated screech. There were two Muggle taxis sitting on the dirt road in front of the Weasley home, waiting to drive them to London. Ginny remembered how her mother had done the same thing two years ago, after the Quidditch World Cup, and had been very irritated at the cramped conditions in the small, yellow cars. This year, only two taxis were needed to transport all the people that were coming to Kings Cross and their luggage. Mrs. Weasley had offered to stay with the trunks so that Ginny and her friends were able to sit together.

Ginny started to walk across the lawn slowly, savoring the last moments of summer. As much as she was looking forward to school, she always missed the Burrow when she was away. The Burrow would always be her home, no matter what happened to her. This was where she had performed her first act of magic, (turning one of the walls in her room bright green), where she had learned to walk and talk and met the six people who would always be her best friends in the world. Her brothers.

"Ginny, come on! Hurry up!"

"Mum, I can't run in these shoes! What if I get mud on them!" Ginny yelled back at her mother and she stopped to make sure that her black, leather, calf length boots were still as flawless as they had been when she had put them on that morning. They were.

"Ginny, you're the one who insisted on wearing a skirt! You look like a prostitute!" Mrs. Weasley yelled irritably, and Ginny ran around to the taxi nearest to her. There were already three people seated in it, Ginny's sixteen-year-old brother, Ron, his best friend, Harry Potter, and his girlfriend, Hermione Granger. Hermione was sitting on the edge, and moved over to make space for Ginny.

"Don't worry, dear, I think that you look nice," Hermione said in a comforting voice.

"Mum is terribly old-fashioned. She doesn't recognize good fashion sense," Ron said sarcastically, jabbing Harry in the ribs.

Ginny knew that he was making fun of her, so she simply turned to take a final glance at the Burrow and did not reply. She was wearing a knee length, denim skirt with a slit up the back that reached to the middle of her thighs, a cap sleeved yellow t-shirt, and a jean jacket. Ginny's older brother George's girlfriend, Morgana, had lent her the ensemble when she had remarked that she wanted to look really nice for her first day of school.

"I don't know why you bother, Ginny," Ron said. His tone was slightly apologetic, but more filled with reason. "You're just going to have to change into your robes for the feast anyway."

"I know," Ginny said. "I just wanted to look..." Ginny was at a temporary loss of words. She wanted to look mature and attractive, but she could never tell Ron that.

"I think that you've been spending too much time with Morgana and her ditzy fashion guru friends," Ron said. Ginny scoffed at the insult.

"Morgana is not a ditzy fashion guru! You were infatuated with her practically all last year, if I remember correctly," Ginny spat. Ron's cheeks reddened visibly and he began to mumble. Ginny felt guilty immediately for her stinging comment. Morgana McGregor was very pretty. It was not unlikely that any boy would be groveling at her feet for her attention. Hermione turned away from Ron for a moment with a look that said very well that she didn't like the fact that she was not the only girl on the planet that Ron found attractive.

This made Ginny laugh inwardly. Sometimes, she wondered why people fell in love with the people that they did. Hermione and Ron could be as different as night and day, but she knew that they loved each other very much, despite their disagreements. She pulled a makeup compact out of her purse to make sure that she didn't have toast or other unbecoming features on her face. Then, she applied pink lipstick and smiled into the minute mirror. Nothing was going to ruin her day. Nothing.

Harry, who had been silent for sometime suddenly addressed Ginny. "Are you looking forward to going to the Sage Academy, Ginny?"

Ginny was yanked from her happy thoughts by Harry's question. She had almost forgotten about her impending trip to the Sage Academy. What with everything else that was on her mind. The thought made her sick to her stomach. Her head began to swim and she spat a few muddled words. "They say that it's really hard. I don't know if I want to go."

Harry laughed. "You're a Sage! You practically have to go!"

"No, I don't. No one can make me."

Ginny silently cursed Harry for bringing her being a Sage up. She didn't wish to think about it. It was true, Sagan Training wasn't mandatory, but it was illegal to use Sagan Powers without it.

The Sage Academy. The place where mystical, individuals highly gifted in Divination, prophecy, Transfiguration, Charms, and particularly Defense Against the Dark Arts, wizards who can perform magic unconsciously, without a wand, are trained to control their powers. Sages were not like humans, yet they were humans, unlike any other creatures to ever walk the earth. Magic was born from the Sages in Ancient Egypt. Sages were also prominent in Greece and the Amazon rainforests. There were now very few Sages in the world, and there were less in Europe than any other continent. And Ginny was a Sage.

It disturbed Ginny, knowing what Sages could become, what they will become, once they have been properly trained. Sages were the most powerful wizards on the planet, maybe even in the universe. And Ginny was one of these people.

Ginny's powers were a fluke. That was the way that it was described, at least. There had never been a Sage on either side of Ginny's family. None of her siblings were Sages. They were smart and powerful, Percy was even striving to become Minister of Magic, but they weren't Sages. They couldn't do spells without wands. Ginny thought for a moment and decided to be friendlier towards Harry. He was just trying to be nice. He needed her company. They were the only Sages in Hogwarts, not counting Dumbledore.

"What do you learn at the Sage Academy? Is it important?" Ginny immediately felt a lump grow in her throat. She didn't want to go to the Sage Academy. And, shockingly, she didn't need to. It was totally unheard of, but Ginny could control her powers without the proper training that makes all Sagan magic legal. Harry had been having lots of problems controlling his powers the previous year. When he once got angry, all the windows in the Gryffindor common room burst into a thousand pieces and one of the tables caught fire. Ginny was glad that nothing of that sort had happened to her before. She would have died of embarrassment.

"Well," Harry started to say. "They make it sort of like school, teaching you lots of little things and then working it up to you trying to control griffins and dragons without wands, all within a matter of a month and a half. You get to know other Sages, which is really neat. There was, of course, no one else from Hogwarts, so I roomed with this guy from Romania, who was really nice. I think that you'd like it, Ginny, quite honestly."

"How do they teach you to control your magic?" Ginny whispered. She had to talk over Hermione, which was annoying. She kept on leaning eagerly at Harry so that Ginny couldn't hear him. Ginny knew that Hermione wished with all of her heart that she could be a Sage or at least visit the famed Academy in Egypt. "Is it hard?"

Harry shrugged. "It was sort of hard. The beginning was really difficult, we started with the really simple stuff that you do at the beginning of a regular wizard's training, only without a wand." He stopped, and laughed. "I remember, my first day, we had to try and turn a toothpick into a needle, like you do in Professor McGonagall's class the first day. I set the table on fire!"

Ron began to snigger and Harry mumbled, "Shut up."

"Anyway, there's this really odd ceremony at the end of the training, they extract your Sagan powers and put them into this." Harry put his hand down his shirt and pulled out a tiny, glass bottle that was filled with a dark blue substance. It had a tiny loop strung on the top, hooking it to a thin, delicate chain.

"What is it?" Ginny asked. She took it in her hand and stared.

"It is my Ampulla of Gaase. That is basically my essence in its purest form, Ginny. Without it, I cannot keep consciousness. Before a magical substance that cannot be destroyed was invented in the thirteenth century, if you wanted to kill a Sage, it was an easy task. You grab the chain and rip it from their neck. Then, you simply perform an Explosion Spell, or if you're going to be even simpler, take a hammer to it, and it shatters. The Sage dies in a most gruesome way."

"How?" Ron said. Ginny groaned. Only Ron would be interested in the horrible way the Sage would die.

"Their innards are thrown over the room that they are in. It's like a bomb going off beneath them, but none of it is scorched. It's horrible. That's how Salazar Slytherin died," Hermione said, cringing.

"Who killed him?" Ginny asked.

"He killed himself for reasons unknown to us," Hermione answered with a look that said, 'Let's change the subject.'

Ginny sighed and looked at the window of the taxi, at the English countryside flying by them. Ginny loved living in the country, the green of the meadows, the trees, flowers, and fresh air, it all made her so happy. City life must be incredibly boring, she thought to herself, and, as usual, the voice answer back in a very matter-of-fact way. Oh, no. Not to those who live in the city. You are suited for the country, but someone who makes his or her home in London would find the Burrow a drag, Country Mouse. Country Mouse? What is that supposed to mean? You are so unlearned sometimes, Town Mouse. Exactly like the mouse in the story. What story? What are you talking about? Ginny thought angrily. There's a Muggle story called Town Mouse, Country Mouse. It's about two cousins who visit each other in their homes and switch place, and end up feeling very out of place in their new homes. Humph. It's a Muggle story. How am I supposed to know what it is? Never mind. The name doesn't have any meaning unless you've heard the story. Ginny angrily crossed her arms across her chest and tried to force the voice out of her mind, before realizing that she was practically fighting with herself.

"Is something wrong, Ginny?" Hermione said, her brow furrowed.

"Oh, no, nothing's wrong," Ginny said quickly. She hoped that Hermione would drop the subject quickly; she didn't want to explain that she was angry at a tiny, ridiculing voice in her head.

"Don't get mad at me, Ginny, you just looked upset all of a sudden," Hermione said. She was the one who looked 'upset all of a sudden.' Hermione didn't say anything else, but instead changed the subject to who might be their new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

"It would be nice if it were another female," She said thoughtfully and Ginny nodded.

"Just as long as she's nothing like Miss Harris," Ron said.

"Ron! I liked Professor Harris," Ginny said indignantly. "She was really nice, always giving me advice and things."

"She was so timid, Ginny," Ron said, rolling his eyes. "I mean, it's not as if I didn't like her or anything, but it's not really a surprise that she disappeared like that."

Harry and Hermione nodded in mutual agreement. Hermione shook her head with a sad look. "She was probably kidnapped. Hopefully she didn't meet the same end as Bertha Jorkins did two years ago..."

There was a very awkward silence in the taxi. Hermione obviously saw that her words had upset her friend. Ginny felt her throat close tight and tears come to her eyes. She fought to keep herself under control and bit her lip so hard that blood trickled into her mouth and swished over her tongue, making her shudder. She tried to ignore Harry, Ron, and Hermione, but when she looked at them, they were staring at her in a curious, expecting way. She forced a few simple words from her lips while trying to keep the tears from spilling onto her cheeks. The words came with difficulty, her throat was so tight and her lips and voice box quivered with her efforts to keep calm. "She wasn't kidnapped. She's not dead; she and Mr. Fletcher eloped. They wanted to get married and no one thought that should because he was rich and she was a poor orphan girl who's parents had been killed in the fight against Voldemort. So they eloped. They're in Cancun right now, sipping Pina Coladas and sunning on the beach. Or maybe in Majorca, soaking up the hot Mediterranean sun, or on the Rivera, touring a vineyard or... or..." Ginny stopped, trying to force finally words out, but none came. She body shook with a sob that rang through the car. Tears spilled onto her cheeks and she sniffled miserably. Her friends knew what she was saying wasn't true, and so did she. She just couldn't bring herself to admit that her beloved professor was dead.

Professor Harris. Ginny gulped the rest of her tears down her throat. She didn't want to think about Professor Harris. She was the greatest adult friend that Ginny ever had. She was young, not yet thirty, but shy. Ginny had gotten to know her well the previous year. She had known Harry's dead parents distantly; she had been a Gryffindor first year when they had been Head Boy and Girl. A young, timid thing, but open about her beliefs, she had always said that Ginny was an altered version of herself, from the quiet disposition hiding a horrible temper, to the fact that she was a Sage.

"Well, Ginny, I was shy and awkward, like you, only much, much more. I had shaggy, black hair and bangs that grew quickly and hung in my eyes. I was, in some ways, nothing like you. You are so comfortable with people that you know, a really great person, Ginny. If you would open up like that to everyone, there would not be a soul in this school that did not love you. They admire you, Ginny, because you are a Sage. But they do not love you, Ginny. I know that some day, they will. You will be the most loved person in Hogwarts history. I know that you will."

Ginny again felt hot tears of sorrow fall down her cheeks at the memory of one of Professor Harris's more meaningful conversations with her. She had said that she would be the most loved person in Hogwarts history. Professor Harris was a Sage, she had the Gift of prophecy, but she did not misuse it, as Professor Trelawney did. She would have never told Ginny something that she did not believe with her whole heart. Ginny knew that.

Harry is the most loved person in Hogwarts history. Everyone knows that. He made Voldemort disappear, when he was only a child. He saved the school what, five times? No, he only 'saved' it four. And his luck and friends saved him half the time, Ginny. Harry is a wonderful person, a great Sage, but he relies on luck much. Harry is so brave. More brave than any other person that I have ever met. Bravery and stupidity can easily be confused. Oh, really! You know that Harry isn't stupid! Stupid, no, he is not. But he is decidedly foolish. I also notice how quickly you jump to his defense. Oh, really. Harry is a great wizard and a good friend. It's not as if I have a crush on him! Any more. Shut up. Your feelings for Harry are deeper than they were when you set your elbow in the butter in his presence four years ago. What is that supposed to mean? I mean that you love Harry. Ginny felt an animosity grow in her chest, took a few deep breaths to keep from crying out, and growled in her head. I do not! The voice gave a small sigh, and Ginny could have sworn that she felt a gentle touch on her shoulder. But perhaps some day you will come do what you say that you shall not.

* * * * *

It was still sunny and pleasantly warm when Ginny, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Mrs. Weasley arrived at Kings Cross Station in London. A breeze fluttered with Ginny's hair, swirling it across her face as she stood in the parking lot, the two cab drivers unloading the trunks. Ginny claimed her trunk and thought of the familiarness of it, what dragging the trunk through the parking lot of Kings Cross mean. There was a comforting feel of familiarity in the unpolished wood grain under her white, slender hand. The roughness made bittersweet memories arise in her mind. The day when Mrs. Weasley had taken Ginny up to the unknown attic so that she might bring Bill's old trunk down. And so his initials were etched in an unsteady hand into the top, the letters W.A.W. Ginny had been so excited that day, and her mother said that she reminded her of Bill.

"Oh, Ginny, he was so excited too. He was an eager thing, but shy, not very outgoing. Like you, my dear. What a coincidence it would be that my oldest and my youngest would be somewhat the same."

Ginny couldn't remember Bill being shy, ever. He was cheerful and open-opinioned and a bit rebellious. She had missed Bill so when he was away at Hogwarts, and even more when he was in Egypt. That land was so distant, so far away from English civilization. A land of fates and mysteries, not like Ginny's home. It did not hold that thrill that she had experienced. She remembered fondly the trip that the Weasley family had taken to visit Bill before Ginny's second year. She had been so fascinated by the pyramids and the genius of the Ancient Egyptian wizards. The tours had mentioned that most of those who had developed the great structures had been Sages. This had meant so little Ginny at the time, but now she wished that she had been more attentive when the guide had told about them. The Egyptian Sages were her magical heritage, her origin and the place that she had spiritually come from.

However boring Ginny might have found the Sages, the pyramids were a spectacle of fascination for her. They loomed in the distance, dominating the skyline with such a sweeping, perfect magnificence. The final pyramid that was open to the public had been that of a Pharaoh called Menkare. Her brothers had run ahead, before Ginny, who was being held back by her mother's protective arm. Mrs. Weasley had stopped because she was suffering from overheat and Ginny had stayed with her to make sure that she would be alright, though truly wishing that she could be with Fred, George, and Ron. The trio had run out of the passage at breakneck speed a few moments later, to tell Mrs. Weasley and Ginny of skeletons in the final chamber, mutated Muggles who had broken in and grown extra heads. Ginny's mother had been mortified and dragged her children away, to the spot where Bill, Percy, and Mr. Weasley were standing and talking about the mathematics involved on the building of the pyramids. Mrs. Weasley asked Bill a complicated question, and Ginny slipped out of her grasp and ran back to the pyramid, unnoticed. She slipped into the tunnel, which was darker and steeper than any of the others that she had been in. A few tunnels lighted the narrow passage, and Ginny crept through the corridor towards the last chamber. As her brothers had said, there were three skeletons, deformed and lying on top of a great golden sarcophagus, molded and painted into the shaped of a great pharaoh. This did not frighten Ginny, but rather fascinated her, and she stood in the empty chamber, wondering what exactly the people who were lying there had experienced before they had died.

Ginny hadn't stayed long. She could sense it getting cooler and ran back to the pyramid entrance and from there to the spot not far away, where her family stood. Her mother had not taken note of her absence, but Bill had. He winked at her when she returned to Mrs. Weasley's side, trying to hide the fact that she was pink faced and out of breath.

The wind fluttered Ginny's red hair playfully, whipping it gently into her face. She sighed and walked into Kings Cross Station, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Mrs. Weasley trailing behind her. It felt as glorious as ever to be in the station. She took a deep, exhilarating breath, between the many bodies that flooded the platforms. If it had not been such a public place, she would have danced and sang. She was happy. The happiness, the knowing that this year would be great, great in spite of Voldemort and Professor Harris's disappearance and every other bad omen, was deep, racking her brain and coursing through her bones, deeper than the lack of assurance that hid in uncontrollable corner of her body, with her scolding voice. But no, the voice was gone, gone for now, and it wouldn't come back until she was being stupid, or at least Ginny hoped so.

"Now Ginny, I want you to have a good year, but I also want you to be careful," Mrs. Weasley said softly, placing a hand on Ginny's shoulder that wrenched at her stomach. This calm worry of her mother's, it stirred her. Mrs. Weasley was a panicker; she went hysterical when she thought that something was wrong.

Or does she only go hysterical at minor threats, Ginny? Ginny tried to ignore the voice and the wrenching in her stomach to no avail. It was obvious enough that the voice wouldn't go away. You just want to be happy, eh, Ginny? Well, be happy. Be happy for now. It won't last as long as you think. Those final words sent shivers down Ginny's spine, and as much as she tried to throw them from her head, they would not leave.

"That means all of you, you hear?" Mrs. Weasley said, hints of irritation creeping into her voice. "I don't want anything to happen to all of you, and it could be dangerous..." Her voice trailed off. Her face was spacey and passive. "Have a lovely time at school, dears. I don't think that I need to walk you onto the platform, do I? You're getting to be so old."

Mrs. Weasley sighed as each of the departing students gave her a hug. Ron grumbled and was forced into this, claiming that he was to old for this sort of "mushy nonsense."

"Do you want to take the barrier at a run with me?" Hermione asked, tucking a frizzy brown curl behind her ear. Her eyes reflected excitement and her breathing was quick. It was just like Hermione to look forward to school. Ginny had wished as long as she had known her that she could be so studious, so thirsty for learning.

Ginny nodded and the two girls ran at the familiar, solid looking barrier and immediately, Ginny got a huge rush of invigorating energy as she felt herself be transported to the wizarding world. The scene changed to the witches and wizards, greeting their friends, bidding good-bye to parents. Oh, how Ginny adored that first glance at Platform 9 3/4. The huddles of familiar people, the hoots of owls and the meows of cats, all colors, species, and sizes of each.

"Ginny!" At the sound of her name, Ginny spun around to face her best friend, Lorelei Kensington. "Darling, you look amazing!" She cried, running over to Ginny and giving her a hug. The petite brunette swung her hair over her shoulder cheerfully.

"Hey, Lorelei," Ginny said in a forced way, Lorelei was smashing her ribs together.

"Let's get on the train, I have soo much to tell you! Like how Nora is getting married, can you believe it? And I'm going to be her bridesmaid! Or one of them, anyway..."

* * * * *

Ginny was, as she expected in a very good mood when she, Lorelei, and a few of her other friends arrived at Hogwarts Castle that evening. The feast was, as always, amazing. The Gryffindor fifth year girls were stuffed full when they walked up to their dormitory, telling of their summers. Everyone seemed to have a story of great romances with unknown boys at the beach. Ashamed that, at fifteen, she had never dated, unlike all of her friends, Ginny pulled her bed curtains around her, blocking the sound, and feel asleep.

* * * * *

Why was Ginny standing in the middle of the desert? How strange. Hot, scorching air, filled with desert sand blew into her face, tangling her bright red hair. She sheltered her exposed face and neck from the harsh winds, sinking down onto the huge sand dune that she stood on. Her body sank into the weak ground and sand poured over her knees and into the lap of her floaty white robe.

Ginny took a deep breath and the air cracked and singed her throat and lungs, sand and filth filled her mouth. She was all alone in the desert. She stood and stumbled, her bare feet burning on top of the tiny rocks that were burning underneath the merciless desert sun. The wind still blew around her, a cloud of visible air wavering over her head.

Peering over the horizon, she saw two figures, robed all in black walking towards her. Where had they come from? They hadn't been there moments ago. She heard one of them call out, but couldn't distinguish the words through the wind. Groping for another word, she walked forward, dragging her feet through ankle deep sand.

"Come here, child!" The one on the left called, it was a woman's voice. She was taller than her companion and carrying a greatly colored box. The two were moving faster than Ginny, so she just stood there, waiting for them to come to her.

The one who had called out was taller than the other woman, with curly hair blonde and a malicious smile. Her companion's hair was straight and black. Her smile was kind, but her eyes were like two dark pieces of coal, glinting and anxious.

"Who are you?" Ginny asked in a nervous voice. She swallowed the dirt that billowed into her mouth and it burned and ground into her throat.

"The real question is who are you?" the black haired woman asked.

"I'm Ginny Weasley. Why are you here, in the middle of the desert, without provisions?" Ginny asked and the women laughed, mocking her.

"We are not without provisions. We have you," the taller said, touching Ginny's chin gently. Ginny relaxed at the soft touch, and once her muscles lost their intensity, the woman snapped her hand against Ginny's jaw, and she winced, more in shock than pain. "That is what is in store for your world, 'Ginny Weasley.'"

"What do you want of me?" Ginny asked. "Can I help you?"

The black haired woman grinned, her soft smile gone and replaced by an evil smirk. "As a matter of fact, you can.

"Raise your lips to mine and I shall anoint you will the blood of the one you call your savior. Your body lies in filth but your soul shines through light perpetual. Together we shall rule the world, bonded by human sacrifice, my blood, your blood, in a pool of power. I shall bring the good of you and use it for my cause, and you shall out your purity into my workings. Together, we are strong. Stronger than those who came before us and stronger than those who will follow. Amongst the fairies we shall fly, remembered forever, in darkness and in light. Those who forget will pay, and those who pay do not forget, dear."

Ginny shivered despite the heat of the sun, and stepped back in fright. What did that mean? Were they going to kill her and use her as a human sacrifice to a pagan god?

"Do not be afraid," the tall one said, putting out her hand for Ginny to take, but she took another uncertain step back and fell against the hot sand. Dust mixed with her hair and fell into her clothing, making her itch uncomfortably.

"Kneel," the tall one said forcefully and Ginny, shaking with fear, obeyed. The dark one took Ginny's face in her hands and grinned.

"It won't hurt, dear. Not as much as what is coming. Hah! The Sagan Prophecies are nothing against us, for we will go against them in an uprising of what is believed to be true." Her cold laugh echoed through the emptiness of the desert and racked Ginny's soul. It was familiar, all too familiar, and she hated what it reminded her of. The tall one opened the box that she had been carrying, which Ginny now saw was covered in strange markings, unfamiliar and unreadable. From the box exploded a swarm of locusts, biting and stinging at Ginny's skin and buzzing in her ears. They were centered on a dark, shadowy eyed woman robed all in scarlet and floating in the air.

"Mine breath blesses thee for thy cause," she called and she exhaled strongly, covered and surrounding Ginny in a cool, scarlet mist. Ginny took in a deep breath, sand and dirt free. Then, she flew away, taking the locusts and mist with her. All that was left was the desert gust and the two women dressed in black.

The tall one with the box pulled a final item from its depths, a golden cup, carved with the same symbols as the box. It was filled with a half congealed, crimson substance that looked and smelled horribly like blood. Together, the women began to chant in a strange language. As they did so, Ginny shut her eyes and tried to place it. Was it Greek? Latin? Perhaps the language of the Ancient Egyptians?

The chanting ceased, and the tall one began to tilt the cup and Ginny shivered as she did so. The substance inside, which Ginny was now sure was blood, fell onto her head, mixing with her fiery hair. Ginny couldn't catch her breath, the feeling of the thick blood made her shivered. It trickled down the back of her head and onto her forehead, down her face. She closed her eyes and mouth to avoid it entering either opening.

Something heavy, that slithered and moved fell onto Ginny's head. She screamed out, and blood entered her lips, she tasted its horrible flavor on her tongue. The thing that had fallen onto her head was a red and orange cobra, it's head flared. Ginny stood as still as she possibly could, trying to control her shaking. It glided down her face and squeezed around her neck. Turning, it looked her straight in the eye. It seemed human, with its staring, livid eyes and almost sensible hissing. Ginny shut her eyes, calming down. Maybe it wasn't going to kill her.

And it crawled down her body, ignoring she who was now making efforts to ignore him.

And sank its tiny, but lethal fangs into her white, delicate neck.