To Cross the Bridge of Death

To Cross the Bridge of Death

Prologue: Caveat Emptor

Prophecies don't come with a warrantee or an instruction manual. They are the ultimate example of caveat emptor, "let the buyer beware". That isn't to say that there wasn't some use in them, but some of them are just flat out wrong. Others were altered during their course by the participants, and never really came about the way the prophecy outlined it. Most were simply unclear and either provided no useful insights or lent themselves to misinterpretation. Even among the accurate ones and concise ones, none would give the full story.

"Either must die at the hand of the other..."

That's what this one had said. It seemed clear in some ways, but it definitely failed to give the full story.

At the age of 25, Harry Potter had faced the Dark Lord and killed him in battle. The prophecy said that would happen, so to that extent it was true. The prophecy promised that he could not live while Voldemort survived, but it never promised that he would live. After the Dark One was vanquished, the Death Eaters surviving the fight had been consumed in agony as they were consumed by their Dark Marks. In their resulting throes, they thrashed about with magical power as much as with their physical bodies and it was this that resulted in Harry's death by bringing the ruined castle down on his head.

Of course, the prophecy could not be faulted since it had not been Voldemort that had killed him, but rather the death throes of his minions. The prophecy hadn't lied, but it hadn't told the whole truth, either.

For her part, Ginny Potter had been forced to watch from afar. Her husband had frozen her in place and thrown his invisibility cloak over her, an echo of another death, to keep her safe while he went down to finish the battle. She knew that he had been uncertain of the outcome, and he was often seized by a need to protect her. It was the same need that almost tore them apart a decade before. They had reconciled... well, he had reconciled. In her mind, they had never really broken up. The boy had just been stubborn and stupid. It took her eight years from there to get him to marry her, but he had.

Some Muggle-born wizards and witches often wondered why there was no such thing as divorce or remarriage in the magical world. In fact, the concept was completely foreign and few ever questioned it because of the very nature of a magical marriage. When a couple said their vows over a wand, it bonded them permanently together. The bond provided some security by giving each spouse a sense of the other's condition, but it was also a burden in its own way. Even death could not sever the bond, which was why few would even consider attempting a second marriage and bonding, not that many wanted to.

Ginny was well accustomed to feeling that Harry was struggling for his life or in mortal peril. What she wasn't accustomed to was the feeling of breaking within her as she rushed to the scene of the carnage. She knew that Harry had won when she saw the Death Eaters overcome with the backlash of their Dark Marks, but she could no longer feel him through the bond that they shared.

By then, other allies were Apparating to the scene, including Ron and Hermione who had taken charge of the Order in the last few years being among the scant survivors of it. Together, they unearthed Harry's body and only then did it truly get to Ginny that he was dead. She felt as though half of her soul had been ripped from her and screamed her anguish.

Days later, her grief had not abated, though it was quieter. They buried Harry beside his parents, and Ginny felt that a large portion of her had been sealed inside the coffin with him. After that, she lapsed into a deep depression and it fell to Ron to take care of her. He had Hermione were married by that point, as well, and the pair shared Ginny's grief, though not as pointedly.

For five years, the red haired girl did little but move despondently from one day to the next. She began to dream about her own death so that she would, once again, join the man she loved. She had aged considerably in those years, going from youthful lass to a haggard matron and skipping all of the steps that should have been in the middle. She could think of little outside of seeing her husband again.

In the meantime, Ron had made sure she was cared for, even while he and Hermione had rebuilt Hogwarts and brought it to life once more. They were the only Weasleys to survive the war, and he could not refuse her or bring himself to be harsh with her. As the school was completed, Ron had taken over teaching flying and Hermione moved between classes as an expert in many fields. For those five years, Ron tried desperately to bring his sister out of her malaise, with little success. Finally, it was Hermione that had the answer. She was one of the brightest witches of her own or any age, and there were ways to harness magic that had never been fully explored. Using her Muggle-born instincts for innovation, she set off to do that.

When she presented the answer to Ginny, the young widow came around quickly and began to prepare. The wages of the war had been heavy. The magical community in Europe had been all but decimated, and a scant few of their friends had survived. Changing that was impossible, according to convention, but what Hermione was researching wasn't exactly conventional. The older witch thought she'd found a way to meddle with time, and Ginny didn't have to ask any questions to know that if anyone was going to be sent back, it would be her. There's no way she would take no for an answer.

The magic would only be possible if the spell were completed at one precise moment in time, the instant that Ginny had been born on her forty ninth birthday. That left nineteen years for her to prepare, and prepare she did. To cast the spell, whatever form it might take, she would need to have power. A lot of power.

To gain it, she left England and traveled to the deepest parts of Africa where she learned tribal chants and the art of fetish crafting. In the Middle East, she picked up something of astronomy and the crafts for creating enchanted rugs. In India, she spent time with monks who showed her how to protect her mind by becoming one with nothingness. In China, she traveled with skinchangers, who inducted her into an order older than the animagi that spoke of spirit animals and taking the shapes of other beasts through their heart's blood. In Japan, she was inked with magical tattoos and learned many esoteric techniques. Australia saw her to the outback where she learned of the dream walking art as old as the continent itself. In between the human realms, she spent time with the goblins and the merfolk, learning their ways and magic as well as with many smaller tribes of creatures, some of which had gone undisturbed by humans for centuries.

Each place had many other arts to offer, of course, but she quickly discovered that there was an element of heritage associated with most. For instance, in Japan, many of the magi could call upon the spirits of their surroundings to take material form. Ginny tried to learn the art, but it was impossible for one who was not of the people whose worship brought the small gods into being. There was also physical combat, which she picked up in bits and pieces. It was highly useful for dealing with Muggles and even for some wizards and witches. There was magic for enhancing that, as well, which she learned.

The most interesting of all places, however, was the United States. In stark contrast to Europe, pureblooded magicians were a rarity there. Because of this, the magical world existed almost on top of the world of the Muggles, and magic was tailored to work well for those with relatively little power. Ginny found that there were hundreds upon hundreds of small spells to be learned there, and though each was very specialized, it was also highly efficient. Unfortunately, the Yanks lacked a coherent magical culture and actually finding a way to learn the spells was tricky.

When she was forty five, Ginny felt she was ready and returned to help Hermione finish the spells and rituals. On the night before her fourth ninth birthday, Ginny had almost finished the spell. In a few hours time, she her age would be seven years seven times and it would be the most acceptable moment for the spell to complete. She had to do it alone and it was complicated and had already gone on for four days. There were potions and scrolls and runes to be used, and though she was weary, she pressed on.

She felt the sweat beading on her forehead as she forged ahead, trying to get the chanting complete in time for the moment of her birth. She knew that she was dead, whether or not the spell worked. That had been one of the conditions of the magic, that after the first five hours I would be impossible to stop. The spell would use the gateway of death itself to send her soul back to another time when she had gazed upon the gateway of death. As the last word was said, her back went rigid and she slumped forward, lifeless.

When Ron and Hermione found her, they didn't know whether or not her spell had worked. In fact, that was something they would never truly know, because if she succeeded, it was likely that their world would simply cease to be. Ron teared up at the sight of his dead sister but knew that she had been lost to him twenty years before when Potter had died. He held on to his wife and whispered, "Even if she fails to save him, I hope she beats some sense into us. I can't bear the thought that something might happen and we'll never have..."

Hermione nodded and kissed her husband lightly, echoing his fears and wanting to hold on for as long as possible.

+++++++++++++++++++++++

Ginny moaned softly as she awoke and put her hand to her forehead to stop the pain. Her eyes fluttered open and she sat up only to see the dead basilisk and a young Harry Potter in bloody robes heading for her. "It worked!" she cried, immediately forgetting about her pain. "Harry, it worked! I'm back and now you won't have to die and everything is going to be okay and..."

Relief and the aftereffects of the spell hit her and she sobbed uncontrollably. "Harry, I'm so sorry. Everyone else was dead and it was horrible and..." she sniffled and struggled to her feet. Harry reached out a hand to help her and when they touched, there was an odd sensation as though a coil that had been wound too tightly suddenly sprang free.

She had no time for further thought as she was suddenly overcome by agony. Harry apparently fared no better as he fell to the floor beside her, writhing. She gasped out, "Harry... I'm... sorry..." before she lost consciousness, trapped in a world of nightmarish pain.

+++ End Prolog +++