It May Be Raining

Chapter Ten

The Gray Clad Girl

"Your prison is walking through this world all alone..."

Harry stepped out into the snow-covered expanse of the school´s grounds. It was desolate and lonely. The leafless trees quaked desperately in the chilly mid-January wind that raked the frosty expanse in front of him. Harry pulled his cloak in closer around him to shelter himself from the icy chill.

He sought out places for quiet reflection in the comfort of the warmer castle but found none sufficient enough. He wanted more than just to be alone; he wanted to be miserable and alone. So he came to the conclusion that the forbidding landscape before him should provide just the place.

If he could find it underneath all of this godforsaken snow, there was a tree stump down by the lake that he was fond of, it afforded a nice view of the water and the gates beyond that, both likely covered in snow at the moment.

Harry wasn´t alone at this particular time because he´d been deserted or had lost all of his friends. No, he´d taken great pains to subtly alienate himself from them (and not so subtly in Ginny´s case--she´d helped a lot by avoiding him flat out, it seemed).

By the start of the next term, Harry had decided to do what all normal students facing extremely difficult end of the year tests would do to avoid unpleasant encounters with others--he immersed himself in solitary study. When the library was too crowded, he withdrew to other, more unconventional study spots. The lake was one he particularly liked. The clearing behind Hagrid´s hut was another. It was cold at that time of year, but quiet.

Ever since the night that Ginny had given him that amulet he´d been trying to find out more about it, without actually confronting its maker personally. This meant that Harry would rather sift through passage after passage in dusty old volumes than ask Ginny how she had made it and for what purpose, etc.

If Harry had been honest with himself, which he hadn´t at the moment, he would admit at once that when he´d gone out on a limb, like when he had and kissed Ginny, he never expected that she would be the one person that could truly hurt him. Or had he placed her on that pedestal and gotten angry with her when she´d fallen off? That scenario had never entered his mind. He chalked the whole scene up to the fact that being in close proximity to him was a dangerous and possibly fatal move. Look at Cedric--he´d been standing next to Harry in a maze one moment, harmless right? The next moment, flash of green light. Thud! Dead.

It would become an epidemic with him. He couldn´t blame Ginny for getting out while the getting was still good. She was the smart one.

Ron and Hermione where a little harder to convince and, indeed, Harry was still working on the two of them. It was getting easier, however, to shrug the two of them off as they were always ready and willing to take any opportunity of privacy. Harry was happy for the two of them, really. None of that third wheel bollocks for him, it was safer for all concerned if they would just leave this marked target to himself.

Only he wasn´t alone at that moment, as he rounded a dark corner of the castle, bound for the lake, he was met with a peculiar sight: the dark-haired Slytherin girl that had occupied the majority of his thoughts at the end of last term. He´d given up on ever finding out the identity of this mystery girl long ago. But now, as the opportunity presented itself, he was not going to pass it up. He would talk to her this time.

As he neared her, sitting on his stump by his lake, he noticed that she was reading something--a worn paperback whose title, Harry could not see from this vantage point. The next moment, he was almost sorry for his bold determination. She heard his footfalls that crunched in the snow and turned around to face the intruder, hurriedly wiping tears from her eyes and closing her book. Harry stopped mid-stride.

"Er, hello," he said timidly, now positive that he should have left well enough alone.

"Hello, Harry," the girl said with a smile, placing her book neatly in her lap and distractedly straightening her fur-lined cloak.

"Are you all right?" Harry couldn´t help asking, she really had looked miserable when he happened upon her.

"Oh, yes," she said looking slightly embarrassed. "Yes I´m fine, it´s just this book. I can´t help it. Does that to me every time." She smiled self-consciously holding up the novel, Tale of Two Cities. Harry had never read it so he would take her word for it. Anyway, he wasn´t interested in a chat about classic Muggle novels at the moment. Muggle, she read Muggle literature. Was she out to break every Slytherin stereotype thrown her way? Harry began to grow incredulous, slightly. Surely she wasn´t a Muggle-born or half-Muggle. Would they even let you into Slytherin house if you weren´t pureblooded?

Growing uneasy in the silence that passed while Harry was assessing this growing enigma, the girl offered more information, without being prodded.

"I´m Imogen, by the way. Imogen Spencer. I already know who you are." She smiled again, a warm pleasant smile, also very uncharacteristic of Slytherins.

Harry realized that if he continued in this vein it would drive him crazy and he would probably miss some interesting information about Imogen. No more keeping track of her odd, un-Slytherin-like tendencies, he agreed inwardly and sat down on a rock nearby as his tree stump was already occupied.

Imogen sat playing with her bracelet, which was far more beautiful close up. It had and emerald encased in platinum surrounded by smaller sapphires on it. As she noticed him studying it while she twisted it around her wrist, she immediately dropped her hands in her lap as if not sure what to do with them.

Harry decided not to make this a wasted conversation and plunged on with the investigation as to who this girl really was. "I´ve never seen you around before this year," Harry began innocently.

The girl´s smile widened as she found something about him exceedingly hilarious.

"Are you grilling me because you find me suspicious or threatening?" She beat him to it. He was slightly taken aback.

"No, just curious," Harry feigned innocence.

She smiled again and continued, "Very well, my name is Imogen Spencer. I am thirteen years old, transferred from a private school on the continent near Yverdon-les-Bains on Lac de Neuchatel--that´s in Switzerland in case you were wondering. I enjoy reading and horseback riding and I am not a Death Eater." She kept the same amused smile on her face as she ended on that sarcastic note. Harry didn´t mind that she was mocking him. He found it all as amusing as she did.

"In that case, I´m Harry Potter and I am not a Death Eater either," he joined in as she laughed at the ridiculousness of it.

"Oh come on, is that all you have to say for yourself? You´re supposed to introduce yourself with thoughtful details. Let me show you," she began. "Hello. My name is Harry Potter. I am a fifth year student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I enjoy flying and picking on defenseless students from Slytherin House. I enjoy History and am rubbish at Potions." She smiled again as she finished, finding herself very funny indeed.

Harry couldn´t help but laugh as well, even though it sounded like her understanding of him came from Malfoy himself--he didn´t mind, he knew she was just teasing him and he found it very amusing.

"I don´t like history," he added as an amendment to her summary of him.

"Oh very well then, Divination."

He was enjoying their talk very much. He only realized that it was growing dark outside as Imogen pointed out that she was beginning to lose feeling in her toes and should really be getting inside and to the library.

Harry said a reluctant goodbye and watched her retreating form as she hurried off toward the school.

***

"She won´t talk," Wormtail admitted timidly dragging the prone form of a gray clad girl. An unearthly and detached voice spoke from some place unseen.

"Wormtail, I said extract the necessary information from her not her last breath. We need her alive. I need her!" the voice practically screamed this last bit.

The girl remained unrecognizable. All that could be seen of her really was the hem of a non-descript pleated gray skirt, knee-high gray socks and black shoes that buckled. It was the basic uniform of every girl that attended Hogwarts.

What happened next was in typical Voldemort style and Harry would have been shocked if his scolding Wormtail didn´t follow with the traditional punishment through the Cruciatus Curse.

Of course, this was the moment that Harry woke up with a searing pain in his forehead and only a half-memory of the events that had taken place in his dream. He was frustrated at the fact that more was not revealed, perhaps something that could save these wretches Voldemort and his pathetic henchman were pursuing.

Harry had guessed that whoever the man was in his previous string of dreams, the one that Wormtail was strangling, he was an important person to the cause. Maybe it was someone close to Dumbledore, but this girl, why would she be important? Why did Voldemort need her?

Harry mulled over this strange enigma, late one night as he watched delicate flakes of snow cascade gracefully through the winter air, melt on the window pain and then freeze again.

Maybe he couldn´t help these people at all. They could already be dead. The old man that Harry had seen in the first of these dreams had died before Harry could even sort that dream out. Why was he seeing these people if he couldn´t help, do something? It was cruel to watch them suffer and even more so to be powerless to stop it.

***

The morning of the Ravenclaw-Slytherin match, Harry found himself in the Headmaster´s office, dutifully explaining his recent visions and surmising their portents with the wise old wizard.

Dumbledore gave him some little glimmer of hope: unlike that of the old man, this young girl and the man that Harry had seen recently might have a chance. Their fate might not be entirely sealed. These could all be future events, a very weak theory in Harry´s opinion.

As to the mention that Voldemort gave to Wormtail about needing the girl, Dumbledore could not venture a guess. He only took off his glasses and wiped them with the hem of his long purple robe and urged Harry for details; the color of the room, any visible light source, other figures present. Harry could offer none and left Dumbledore´s office feeling more frustrated and useless than ever.

He made his way down to the pitch to join his friends in the stands, silently hoping that the Ravenclaws would finally beat Slytherin House and give Harry something to smile about today.

Ravenclaw did not start out too promising, but Terry had almost managed to knock Malfoy from his broom.

Harry looked around the audience for Imogen, finding her a few levels below him, Ron and Hermione. She did not look too enthusiastic about Terry´s attack on the Slytherin Seeker. She held her hands up near her mouth as if to ready them to shield her eyes should something horrific happen.

Harry also noticed the absence of Ginny. He knew that she wasn´t a big Quidditch enthusiast, but really, hiding in the infirmary and pulling extra duty just to avoid him was not Ginny´s style. He hoped that she wasn´t taking up the not eating and not sleeping lifestyle that she´d adopted during last term. He would have to get her on her own soon and talk to her, whether she wanted to or not. After that she could avoid him all she wanted to, he just wanted one chance to explain.

Harry returned his attention to the game just in time to notice that Terry was getting very brave out there. Malfoy´s broom was far superior to his and yet he was pulling all the stops. He wasn´t just tailing Malfoy, he was weaving, blocking and blindsiding the opposing Seeker, reminding Harry of a rather slimy player that he´d run up against occasionally who´d usually result to such tactics. Who was that again? Oh, yes it was Malfoy. He was getting a dose of his own dirty game ethic and Harry was enjoying every second of it. Then Terry had ducked a Bludger one of the opposing Beaters had shot his way. It hit Malfoy somewhere around his right ear, Harry guessed, knocking him from his broom. He didn´t have far to fall as he was already into a pretty precarious dive. The fall wouldn´t hurt him nearly as much as that blow from the Bludger. Blood was everywhere.

Imogen leaped to her feet with a startled shriek and ran for the field, pushing students out of her way very forcefully for her size.

Terry caught the Snitch winning Ravenclaw a twenty-point lead over Slytherin and a victory that would be talked about for quite some time.

Harry watched with the rest of the students as Malfoy was rushed inside along with a frantic Imogen.

As much as Harry loathed that particular Slytherin, he didn´t want him dead or permanently eating his food through a straw. He would ask Ginny about him later as she would surely be assisting Madame Pomfrey at the moment and would have details.

***

"How is he?" Harry asked a weary Ginny as she climbed in through the portrait hole. Everyone else was down to dinner. Harry couldn´t eat unless he´d known for sure that Malfoy was all right. After all, he did wish that Ravenclaw would win, and was feeling guilty that his hatred for Malfoy had run that deep. He didn´t hate Malfoy that much, really.

"Not awake yet," she said, not looking his way. She made a direct route for the stairs. "I´ve volunteered to sit up with him tonight. I need to change out of these bloody robes and then I´m heading back there." Her voice was clipped and impatient. She looked very tired.

Harry knew how much this assistant opportunity meant to her. She hoped to begin an internship at the prestigious Medical Acadamie at St. Maurice´s in Paris the summer after next. Harry felt that she was pushing herself too hard. Maybe a little bit of it was because of him, he thought.

"Did you want something Harry?" Ginny said reappearing in jeans and a t-shirt, carrying a cardigan in one hand. He was still standing where she´d left him.

"Gin, I need to talk to you," Harry admitted instantly, feeling that she wasn´t going to wait around for him to get to the point.

"Well, walk with me and talk, I´ve got to be back now," she said with authority. Harry immediately followed.

"Ginny," he began, "I´m sorry for everything that happened on Christmas."

"What Harry," Ginny asked looking thoroughly confused, "what are you sorry for? The kiss? I´m not. I hope that´s not what you mean." She looked hurt and offended at the suggestion.

"Well, you ran off. I thought I had scared you," he admitted.

Ginny placed a hand on his arm, "No, Harry. Don´t be sorry. You don´t scare me in the least. It´s just timing--it sucks. I can´t explain it all now, but someday you´ll understand." She smiled comfortingly as they stopped in front of the infirmary doors. She stepped closer and kissed him gently on the forehead and assured him, "I do love you, Harry. Don´t ever doubt that. I just can´t be with you is all. I´ll always love-,"

They both heard it and stopped.

It was the voice of Professor Snape.

"Sorry excuse for a Qudditch player. You´ll never amount to more than a shoddy second place. Always outshone by that Mudblood lover, Potter."

Harry leaned closer and exchanged a stunned look with Ginny who shrugged to say that she had no idea what was going on. He chanced a look through the glass and noted a groggy and bandaged Malfoy and an irate Snape, who turned to the door.

Harry grabbed Ginny and pulled her forcefully into a nearby closet, eager not to be seen by the angry Professor as he stalked by.

Checking that he had gone, Ginny hurried into the infirmary and over to Malfoy, who was stirring. Harry looked around for Madame Pomfrey, curious as to why Snape was allowed to carry on the way he had to a student--a critically injured student, nonetheless. She was nowhere to be seen.

Harry came over to the bedside where Ginny was standing muttering an incantation that immediately knocked her bandaged invalid out.

"Is he all right?" Harry asked breathlessly, slightly worried in light of the scene he´d just witnessed. Professor Snape had been as out of temper as he usually was after he´d returned at the beginning of term, but Harry had never, in all of his years as a student here, seen him this angry, at one of his prized students, nonetheless--and an unconscious one at that.

"Would you like me to stay?" Harry asked tentatively, knowing full well that Ginny would refuse him. She did.

"No, Harry. I´ll be fine. I don´t think he´ll be back tonight and besides, Madame Pomfrey should be back soon." She smiled to reassure him. Really, he was just as overbearing as her brothers, even as bad as Ron.

Harry left her reluctantly. He didn´t want her there alone with Malfoy, but did as he was told and headed back to Gryffindor Tower.