Harry Potter 1. Chapter 1 Hogsmeade Attack

**Chapter One **

**The Hogsmeade Attack**

This weekend started out perfect: I'd saved up money from babysitting and working for Fred and George over the summer to afford a few new sets of robes, and I was headed to Hogsmeade with my friends. We spent the morning window-shopping in some of the more expensive stores, and spent a few galleons in some of the cheaper ones. We ate lunch at the Three Broomsticks, and started down High Street to the theater to see Macbeth.

That's when perfect turned into disastrous.

Screams ripped the air, people started pushing, running in every direction except towards the end of Main Street. The air, which moments before had been showing signs of Indian summer turned cold as ice. I froze where I stood. My friends had already run off in the direction of Hogwarts. Within seconds, the reason why everyone was running became clear.

Dementors were pouring into Hogsmeade, along with masked and cloaked wizards.

"Death Eaters," I gasped. The Death Eaters started firing off curses willy nilly. A man to my left got hit in the back with a jet of green light.

"Ginny!" someone screamed my name. I ran in the direction of the voice, pausing only to throw a stunning spell over my shoulder. I could see my brother Ron, Hermione, and Harry crouching behind an upended picnic table. I darted across the road to them, and slid to a stop beside Ron.

He grabbed my arm.

"Are you okay?" he asked. Harry straightened and cast a curse towards the Death Eaters.

"Fine," I breathed. "Have you any idea what's going on?"

"We're being attacked by Death Eaters," Harry panted. I ducked as another jet of green light soared over my head, and glared at him.

"I gathered that, Potter," I snapped. "Why?"

"Why don't you ask them?" Harry snapped back.

"Now isn't the time to bicker," Hermione said, while Ron cast a jinx over our heads.

"This attack doesn't make sense," I continued. I jumped up, and hurled a hex at the Death Eaters, muttering "Nasum Vespertiliones Insectaria," as I did. I heard a satisfying scream of shock and terror as the hex made whose ever I hit bogies attack a multitude of Death Eaters.

"Yes it does. Death Eaters attack. That makes sense."

"But why Hogsmeade?" I hiss. "It doesn't make strategic sense."

"It's connected to Hogwarts," Harry growled. "They probably think they'll be able to get in through here. Cover me." He jumped out from behind the table, rolled over the ground towards Zonko's while Ron and Hermione cast hex after hex towards the enemy. Harry ducked inside the joke shop, and stayed there.

The Dementors glided forward, passing through the deluge of spells like they were nothing more than a few annoying gnats. I felt nausea stir in my stomach, and I immediately regretted choosing fried fish for lunch. My brain grew fuzzy, my reaction time slowed. A stunning spell passed two inches from my right ear as I cast a Reductor Curse at another table the Death Eaters were using for cover. A Dementor separated from the group, and glided along the ground toward us, its rattling breath sending shivers up my spine.

"Expecto Patronum!" I yelled, conjuring an image of Christmas dinner at the Burrow last year in my mind. Silver vapor poured from my wand tip. The Dementor brushed it aside effortlessly. "Expecto Patronum," I repeated. Vapor again. Christmas dinner with my family at Grimmald Place turned to my first Halloween at Hogwarts. Paint and feathers covering my robes. Mrs. Norris petrified. "Expecto Patronum!" I said, thinking of my eleventh birthday, when I received my Hogwarts letter. Silver vapor again, but the Dementor slowed as the vapor reached it.

I heard Ron yell the incantation, and saw a silver terrier burst from his wand, and charge the Dementor. It halted as the little dog reached it, yapping and growling. But the Dementor waved a rotting, gray hand, and Ron's Patronus dissipated. Hermione tried. Her silver otter didn't even make five feet away before it too, faded. A second Dementor joined the first, and the two of them slowly approached us. I shut my eyes, and focused on my memory of the Yule Ball, two years ago. I focused hard on the feeling of dressing up and going, the elated feeling I received when Neville asked me to be his date. Keeping my eyes closed, I pointed my wand, and whispered, "Expecto Patronum."

Even with my eyes closed. I knew it had not worked. Ron tugged on my arm, I looked. He and Hermione were standing, Hermione running for safety, Ron pulling me up. The sounds of the battle died. The Dementors' rattling breath filled my ears. Ron's lips moved, but I could not hear him. Hermione, now standing in the doorway to Zonko's shouted something. Ron gave me a look of fear, and pleading, before turning, and running to join Hermione. I stood. Curses, hexes, and jinxes sailed past me, not one hitting me.

The Dementors hovered over the ground not fifteen feet away.

One drifted closer. I raised my wand, my arm trembling. The Dementor hissed, baring long fangs. No, no, it wasn't the Dementor.

It was something much worse.

Tom Riddle whispered in my ear, his breath raising goose-bumps along my skin, complimenting me. Tom took my hand.

"Come with me," he said. "We'll rid the world of the unworthy together."

I flashed back to my first year at Hogwarts. The feeling of being alone. The way I felt like no one understood me. No one but Tom. Tom understood. Tom knew what it was like. His words were soft, comforting. Then, the sick, resentful feeling of the person who disrupted my fantasy.

"No," I said. "No, go away."

The Dementors crept closer. They soon were joined by more, and they surrounded me. Tom put his arm around my shoulders, a handsome smile curling his lips.

"You can be my Queen, Ginevra. You can stand at my right hand, ruling the world."

"I- I don't want to."

"Yes you do," Tom murmured. "You want to be praised. You want to be wanted. You want someone to call you beautiful. I can give you that, and more."

"No."

"You are beautiful, Ginevra. You deserve what I'm offering you."

I trembled as Tom cupped my cheek. His touch was cold, and uninviting. His dark eyes were alight with desire and ambition. Also with malice.

"I'm offering you what no one else can. I'm offering you the world."

My body shook with fear. I fell to my knees, looking up at him.

"You needn't bow to me, Ginevra. We are equals."

I looked away. His dark, handsome features, enticing voice, and smooth words were too much. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying the Dementors would leave me. I opened them again, to see Tom kneeling beside me.

"I need you with me, Ginevra," he whispered. "You are my Queen."

In the back of my mind, I heard my name being called. I heard people outside of my ring of Dementors calling me.

"I promise to be faithful," Tom said. He was moving closer now. "I promise to fulfill your every desire."

"Ginny!"

"Don't listen to them, they want to discourage you," Tom said, returning his palm to my cheek. "They are jealous of your potential."

"Ginny, get out of there!"

"They're afraid of you, of what you can do," Tom said.

"I'm afraid," I whispered.

"I know," Tom said. "I can show how to forsake fear. I can teach you things others could never imagine."

"Ginny, I'm coming for you!"

My mind registered these words, and I realized it was Harry's voice. Tom's handsome features flickered from cool persuasion to anger, and then back to the former.

"Follow me," Tom said. "Pledge your life to me!"

The Dementors shifted. I heard voices yelling the Patronus Charm. One voice rang out above the others. Harry's voice.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

A bright, silver stag burst through the circle of floating horrors, scattering them like splinters. Tom's features twisted with rage.

"Pledge yourself!" Tom insisted, grabbing my arms and shaking me.

"No, no, I can't. I mustn't," I whimpered. The stag charged Tom. He stood, and fled.

The stag nudged me. Get up, it said. Run, it said. I stood shakily, my eyes on Harry's Patronus. Harry himself ran up to me just then.

"What you doing, come on!" he yelled. My eyes drifted away from the stag, to the line of Death Eaters advancing on us. Tom was leading them. Except, he didn't quite look like Tom. No, he was older, less handsome, more frightening.

"We have to get out of here, let's go," Harry insisted. He turned to follow my gaze, and his face paled.

"Get out of here, Ginny," Harry said, stepping in front of me. My mind clicked. I stepped out from behind him.

"You're coming with me," I said.

"I have to fight him."

"Then I'm fighting him, too."

"No! Run, get to Ron and Hermione, they'll protect you."

"Harry, you're not my father, you're not my husband, you're not my boyfriend," I snapped. "You can't boss me."

He turned to me. "That's Voldemort, Ginny. Not a regular Death Eater. Voldemort!"

"I've fought him too! I can fight him again!"

"That wasn't him, it was a memory! Now run!"

The Death Eaters were twenty feet away now. Part of me wanted to run, but the rest of me was filled with anger. Anger directed towards the beast of a man before me, that had single handedly ended my childhood. The man who stole my heart.

"I'm staying, and there's nothing you can do about it."

Voldemort stopped, ten feet away from us.

"Well, well, well," he purred. "What have we here? A damsel in distress and her brave knight in shining armor?"

Harry moved forward slightly, putting himself between Voldemort and me.

"Leave her alone, Voldemort," Harry snapped.

"Ah, chivalry, is it? Risking yourself to save her pretty little neck?"

"I'll die before you hurt anyone else to get to me!" Harry yelled.

"Oh, is that so?" Voldemort murmured, his voice silky, his tone dangerous. "I can arrange that, you know. With one teensy flick of my wand." Voldemort raised his wand, turning it in his long, skeletal fingers.

"I'll fight you," Harry growled, holding his own wand aloft.

"And of course you will," Voldemort said, his eyes narrowing and his already slit pupils dilating. "But, can you fight two?"

Tom stepped out from the ranks of the Death Eaters; handsome and young, his dark, brooding eyes rested on me. The look on his face was one of pure evil, pure lust.

And he was looking right at me.

Harry faltered. Voldemort and Tom both smiled.

"Yes, you feel it don't you, Potter," they said in creepy unison. "The Angel of Death approaches."

And then, Voldemort and Tom opened fire. Harry pulled me behind him as he shouted "Protego Maxima!" Two curses hit his shield at once, and it shattered. I shot a stunning spell at Tom, but his deflected it easily with a quick shield charm. Immediately, our targets were made. I was after Tom, and Harry was after Voldemort. Time around us slowed, even other the combatants lowered their wands to watch the firefight that burst into existence between the four of us.

My sights were set on Tom. Cast a curse. Dodge his. Throw a stinging hex at him, and throw up a shield charm. Fling a Bat Bogey Hex at him, another shield. My brain shut down, my gut took over. I moved on instinct, dropping, dodging, and rolling out of the way of each of Tom's jinxes and curses. With my each evasive move, Tom grew more and more frustrated. His hexes grew more erratic, his aim sloppy. He was drunk on power, but his bottle was empty.

Tom glared at me, and cast a curse. I side-stepped it, but a fragment of red light brushed past my hand. One fragment.

I dropped to the ground, pure agony erupting in my arm, spreading up to my shoulder, to my chest, to the rest of my body. It felt like someone had dumped me into a vat of white hot boiling acid. My skin felt like it would melt right off my bones. Tom laughed. I screamed. I opened my mouth and shrieked to high heaven. The pain was too intense; I was going to die.

And then it stopped. I opened my eyes, not knowing I had closed them. Tom stood over me, a maniacal and triumphant grin twisting his features grotesquely.

"Wouldn't want you to miss the curtain call, now would we?" he hissed. He grabbed my shoulder and pulled me roughly off the ground. My eyes fell on Voldemort, laughing, as he pointed his wand at Harry, who stood stock still, staring at me, an expression of complete horror on his face.

"It's time for you to die, Potter," Voldemort crooned. Harry didn't move. My heart cried out to him, begging him to move, but my lips and tongue lacked the energy to form the words.

I leaned on Tom's shoulder, praying that Voldemort would gloat a little longer, so I could gain back some strength, and fling myself between Harry and the Dark Lord, so I could protect him.

But I didn't have the chance. Dementors had gathered around us, as those accursed lips formed the curse that, while Harry survived it once, I was sure he could not live through again.

"Avada Kedavra!"

I screamed again. The light left Harry's eyes. He crumpled.

I shook. I shoved Tom away from me, shock pouring through me. Tom and Voldemort laughed while I screamed. I staggered to Harry's side. He lay still.

"Harry," I whispered, brushing his hair out of his eyes. His glasses were askew. He was…

Dead.

I stared blankly at him. Tears dripped onto his face. Shock turned to grief. Grief turned to anger. Anger turned to rage. I blinked away my tears, and rose to my feet. My vision suddenly tinted red, and I turned to face Voldemort. He was still laughing.

"CRUCIO!" The incantation left my lips before Voldemort even realized I was pointing my wand at him. He gasped, and dropped to his knees. Tom barked an order. Voldemort straightened, glaring at me.

"You could have been powerful," he panted. His eyes were bloodshot, and red. "You could have been Queen over everyone, everything." He leveled his wand at my heart. "Now you must die."

And we dueled. It was more intense than the fight with Tom, partly because now both Tom and Voldemort battled me, partly because of my rage. My brain focused on one thing. Harry was dead by Voldemort's hand. By Tom's hand.

I cast curse after curse, with no regard to their content. I yelled "Crucio!" three more times. I never tried to disarm them. I was set to kill.

"Stupefy! Crucio! Pertrificus Totalus!" Hex, curse, jinx, charm. I spat incantation after incantation from my lips. Voldemort and Tom did the same. In the end, I was one girl, up against two men.

My back was to the door of a shop. Tom and Voldemort, flanked by Dementors, had their wands aimed at my heart.

"Any last words?" Tom asked.

I panted, and glanced around. All I could see were Death Eaters, and Dementors. I saw no one on my side. I was alone.

"I surrender," I whispered.

"What makes you think we'll spare you?" Voldemort spat.

"Nothing."

"Good. Because we will kill you."

Tom nodded his agreement.

"Then allow me this," I said. I was playing for time. "Let me die with Harry by my side."

Voldemort frowned, but Tom shrugged.

"Bring her the body," he ordered a near-by Death Eater. They nodded, and left. Another Death Eater approached.

"My Lord?" he said.

"What?" Voldemort snapped.

"My Lord, the village is secured."

"Good. Send a party to test the boundaries of Hogwarts."

"Yes, My Lord." The Death Eater bowed, and left.

The first Death Eater returned, floating Harry's body in the air beside him. He dropped Harry's body at my feet. I cast a quick weightless charm on him, and lifted him up.

"Now, you die," Voldemort said.

I closed my eyes, waiting for death to come. Something touched my shoulder. I heard Voldemort speak the incantation, but at the same time, I felt a slight tug at my navel, like I was taking a Portkey.

Was this dying?

I opened my eyes. I sat up against a tree in a forest. Harry was sprawled in my lap. But I wasn't alone.

Someone stood before me, holding a small carpet bag, and looking quite calm, flanked by two others.

Fear struck me. These people wanted me dead just as much as Voldemort.


	2. Chapter 2 The After World

**Chapter Two**

**The After World**

"If you try anything, I swear to God, I will show no mercy," I growled, pointing my wand at Lucius Malfoy's chest.

"I do not wish to harm you. If I wanted you dead, I would have left you with the Dark Lord."

"Where I am, and what do you want?"

"We're inside the Forbidden Forest, about three miles to Hogwarts. As to what I want, I want protection. For me, and my family," Malfoy gestured to a woman standing on his left, and to Draco Malfoy, standing on his right.

I blinked in confusion. I didn't lower my wand. "You- what?"

"I want protection for my family from the Dark Lord."

"But, but I thought you were his greatest supporters?"

"We were," Mrs. Malfoy said. "We thought he had the right idea, putting purebloods in charge. But then he started killing everyone who stood in his way, even his own servants. We were relieved when Potter defeated him. But when he came back, we had bow to him. We were afraid he'd kill us if we didn't."

"But now, we have a way out. And you are it," Mr. Malfoy said.

"What makes you think I can help you?"

"You're close to Potter, therefore you're close to Dumbledore."

"Harry's dead," I said. Tears filled my eyes as the words left my lips. But there was nothing I could do to change that.

"I can do something about that."

"What? Bury him? Fund a memorial project? Create a monument? That won't change the fact that he's dead!" I shouted. My gaze fell to his face. Terror still twisted his features.

"Not completely."

I looked up. Draco was looking at me with such determination in his eyes.

"What the hell does that mean?"

"I mean he's still anchored to this world. He hasn't crossed to the next one."

"What?"

"He's stuck in limbo," Lucius said. "Stuck between this world, and the next world."

"He's still gone!"

"But we can bring him back!" Lucius said. "All you have to do is promise we'll be granted asylum."

"No magic can raise the dead," I said.

"No magic can pull a soul from the After-World, to this one. But Potter isn't in the After-World."

"The what?"

"The After-World. Where souls go after all their ties to this world have been severed. Where they go to be judged."

"And Harry's soul is there?"

"He's between our world and the After-World," Draco said.

"Why?"

"Because he's still tied to this world," Lucius said.

"How do you know?"

"Promise us asylum, and we'll tell you how to get him back."

"I can't promise you anything," I said. "I'm not close to Dumbledore. I wasn't even close to Harry!"

"You have more influence than you believe, Miss Weasley," Mrs. Malfoy said.

I gulped, and looked down at Harry's body. The look of terror on his face twisted my heart, broke it. He died because of me.

"How can I trust you?"

"I swear, we are not deceiving you," Malfoy said. I clenched my jaw.

"Swear on your magic you won't harm me, any of my allies, or relay information about the Order of the Phoenix to Voldemort."

The Malfoy's flinched at the name, but Lucius nodded.

"I swear on my magic."

I closed my eyes. The weight of Harry's body suddenly increased. I felt like the weight Harry had shouldered had suddenly dropped into my lap.

"I'll do my best," I said finally, looking up. The Malfoy's visibly relaxed.

"We'd better start walking," Mr. Malfoy said. I stood up. The weightless charm I had put on Harry's body had worn off. I grunted, and quickly replaced the charm. I pulled one of Harry's arms around my shoulders. He was still heavy. Cursing under my breath, I cast another weightless charm. He was still too heavy.

Draco, obviously sensing my frustration, moved forward, and draped Harry's other limp arm over his shoulder. He gave me a tight smile. I did not return it. I still didn't trust them, no matter how strong a swear Malfoy gave me. But the possibility that they could bring Harry back was too tempting, too alluring.

Doubts chased each other around my head. No magic could re-awaken the dead. But if Harry wasn't truly dead, then maybe he could come back. But how? I had heard of necromancy, but it was a dark and dangerous branch of magic. How could I bring Harry back without compromising my morals?

The walk to Hogwarts was long, and dominated with a tense silence. I kept my eyes ahead, but Draco's presence, aiding me with Harry's body, was strong. I didn't need to look around to know that he was watching me.

Mrs. Malfoy stayed on my other side, head held erect and proud. Lucius brought up the rear. I kept my wand out, ready to fight off anything that dared pose a threat to me. Soon, I lit its tip to cast a glow over the ground, for no light pierced the tightly laced branches of the trees.

Once the trees thinned out, I saw that the sky was dark. No moon was out, but the stars lit up the sky. Hogwarts gleamed with lights despite the hour of night. I glanced around. Hagrid's hut was dark.

"He must be up at the castle," I muttered to myself. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Draco glance over at his hut too. His expression was unreadable.

"We should hurry," Malfoy said. "The Dark Lord is surely attacking Hogwarts defenses as we speak."

I nodded, but said nothing. I lengthened my stride, and Draco hastened to match me. His parents crossed in front, half walking, and half running. We reached the steps soon. I let Draco take the full weight of Harry's body, and hurried to the door. I tried the handle, but it would not give. I grabbed the heavy brass knocker, and banged it against the wood three times. I stepped back, waiting for someone to hear me.

Seconds passed, with no one answering. I knocked again. I could now hear voices on the other side of the thick oak.

"Who's there?"

My heart leapt. That was my mother's voice.

"Ginny Weasley!" I called, then glancing at my companions, "With some others."

"Ginny!" Mum cried. The door opened a crack, but then it slammed. I could hear someone else speaking hurriedly.

"… could be an imposter," they said.

"I know my daughter's voice!"

"Still, ask her a question only she could answer."

"Fine!" my mother spat. "Ginny?"

"Yes?"

"At your seventh birthday, what did your brother Bill give you?"

"A book of muggle fairy tales."

The door opened. Mum crossed the threshold and grabbed my in a tight hug. Tears that I had been holding back all day fell as I buried my face in her shoulder.

"Oh, my baby," Mum crooned. "We thought you were dead!"

"I almost was," I whispered. She let go. A man I did not recognize stepped forward.

"How-" then Mum's eyes found Malfoy. She drew her wand, and pushed me behind her.

"Mum, it's all right!" I said quickly.

"They're Death Eaters!"

"They're the reason I'm alive!"

Mum glanced back at me. Malfoy nodded.

"Molly," Mrs. Malfoy started forward, "we intend you no harm."

"How did you get inside Hogwarts grounds?"

"We pose no threats," Lucius said. "The enchantments allowed us safe passage."

Mum searched their faces, and her gaze settled on Harry's body. She let out a gasp.

"What happened to him?"

"He's dead," I said.

"What?"

"Voldemort killed him. But Mr. Malfoy says he can bring him back."

Mum looked back at me with a look of terror on her face.

"No magic can raise the dead."

I turned. The unknown man spoke in a deep enchanting voice. He moved into the light.

"No magic can call a soul back from the After-World," Malfoy corrected. "The Potter boy's soul is not in the After-World. Thus, he can be recalled to this world."

"How?"

"I will tell you how, and help you bring him back on one condition. That you grant myself, my wife, and my son a safe asylum from the Dark Lord."

Mum and the man glanced at each other.

"We'll bring you to Dumbledore," Mum said. Mum took my hand and led me inside. The Entrance Hall was packed, it looked like Madam Pomfrey had turned it into a hospital.

I glanced back at the Malfoy's. Draco looked strained under Harry's weight. I let go of Mum's hand, and resumed my place supporting Harry's body. Draco smiled in appreciation.

"This way," the man said. He led us up the stairs to the fourth floor. Mum stayed behind. The corridors were empty. It looked like everyone was in the Entrance Hall. We walked to Dumbledore's office. The gargoyle guarding the entrance to his office leapt aside as we approached.

Draco and I awkwardly traveled the narrow staircase up to Dumbledore's office.

Inside his office, the heads of all the houses were talking in hushed voices to the Headmaster, who sat in his chair behind his desk. The man cleared his throat. The professors turned.

"The Malfoy's have requested asylum," he said.

"Have they?" Professor McGonagall said. "And why have they done that?"

"We dislike the Dark Lord's methods," Malfoy started.

"We all do," McGonagall snapped.

"We want freedom from him."

"Why should we give you protection? How do we know you are not going to turn on us?"

"He swore to me that he was not lying, Professor," I said. Professor McGonagall turned to me, and her face paled as she saw Harry's head lolling onto his chest.

"What- Potter- is he?"

"Dead," I confirmed. "By Voldemort's hand."

Dumbledore, who had said nothing since we entered the office, pressed the tips of his fingers together, and closed his eyes. He seemed tired, and windblown.

"Professor?" the man said.

"I grant them asylum," Dumbledore said. Professor McGonagall made a sound as if to argue, but held her tongue.

"Thank you, Professor," Lucius said.

"Professor Dumbledore?" I said in a quiet voice.

"Yes, my dear?"

I glanced at Malfoy, and then said in a rushed voice, "Professor, Mr. Malfoy said that he can bring Harry back."

Dumbledore's eyes flew open.

"He said what?"

"I can bring Potter's soul back to this world."

Dumbledore stood up, and he moved out from behind the desk. He crossed the room to stand before Malfoy.

"How?" he said.

"When a person dies, their soul crosses from this world to the Waiting Realm, the realm between our world and the After-World," Lucius said. "Usually, the soul goes onto the After-World immediately. But sometimes, the soul is tied to this world and cannot cross over until all ties are severed. In Potter's case, his tie to this world is that the entirety of his soul is not in the Waiting Realm."

"How do you know?" Dumbledore asked.

"Before I married Narcissa, I worked for the Ministry as a Magical Genealogist. I studied family trees and their magical abilities. As a hobby, I studied death and souls. In my studies, I discovered a book written by the Founders of Hogwarts on the subject. I learned that a person's affinity with magic depends on one thing: their soul match.

"Normally, a soul has seven potential soul matches. On a rare occasion, there is only one match for a soul, or there is no match. The Founders called the first type of soul a Magis Compar Anima. The second a Fidelis Anima. The third Impares Anima. Fidelis Anima's are the strongest of the three types, and from what my research shows, all Fidelis Animas are wizards and witches. The Potter family tree is full of Fidelis Animas, and when a person's parents are Fidelis Animas, then that person is most likely to be a Fidelis Anima. From what I know of Lily and James Potter, I conclude that they were Fidelis Animas. Also, the stronger a person's magic is, the stronger the possibility they are one of the two rarer kinds of souls. And so my research shows that Potter is a Fidelis Anima."

"But how does that affect his soul?" I asked.

"When a Fidelis Anima is born, a part of their soul detaches from the rest, and goes to their match, and they receive a part of their match's soul. So a part of Potter's soul is still in this world, inside his match."

"But what if Harry isn't a Fidelis Anima?" I said.

"Then he is lost."

"How can we bring him back?" Dumbledore asked.

"We must find his match. Once we do, we can use the part of Potter's soul that is inside her to pull Potter back."

Dumbledore let out his breath, and crossed back to his desk.

"If what you say is true, then we have a chance of defeating Voldemort."


	3. Chapter 3 The Potion

**Chapter Three**

**The Potion**

"How do we find Harry's match?" I asked. "She could be anywhere, anyone!"

"The book listed a spell to locate a person's match. I used it to find Narcissa."

Mrs. Malfoy smiled at her husband at this.

"Do you have the book?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes, it's here," Malfoy pulled from an inside pocket of his robes an old and decrepit looking book. The covers were frayed and coming away from the pages. The spine was worn. The pages looked stained and well thumbed. He handed it to Dumbledore, who took it and looked it over.

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. I will further examine this later." He turned to the unknown man. "Alasdair, take Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy to my quarters. They can occupy my guest room."

The man, Andrew, nodded, and gestured to Lucius and Mrs. Malfoy to follow him. Once they had left the office, Dumbledore set the book on his desk, and turned back to me.

"Miss Weasley, you should go to bed, I am sure you are tired. You may leave Harry's body with me. Mr. Malfoy, you should return to your dormitory as well."

I nodded, and Draco and I laid Harry's body down on the floor. I wish we could have put him somewhere other than the floor, but there was nothing else to do.

"Good night," Dumbledore said.

We echoed him, and left the office.

Outside, Draco and I both headed downstairs. At the Entrance Hall, we separated. Draco disappeared down the steps to the dungeons, I went in search of my family. The Hall was divided up into cubicles made of the screens from the Hospital Wing. Beds held injured students and villagers. Madam Pomfrey had definitely turned into a hospital. I found my mother bending over a young girl who was crying. Mum was trying to comfort her. I let her be. I kept going. I found my father and my brothers Bill and Charlie outside a set of screens, talking quietly and seriously.

I ran to them. Dad saw me, and then his face broke into a relieved grin. I flung my arms around his neck, and hugged him. Dad held me tight for a long moment, then let me go, and cupped my cheek.

"Are you all right?"

I plastered a smile onto my face. "I'm fine," I lied.

"How did you get away?"

"I had some help," I said. "It's a long story. I'll tell you in the morning. Where's Ron?"

Dad glanced at the set of screens. "He's in there," Dad whispered.

I frowned, looking between each of my brothers and my father. The grim expressions on their faces revealed the worst. I pushed past Dad through the curtains, and covered my mouth in horror.

Ron lay on the bed inside, his face bloodless. Madam Pomfrey stood by him, her hands covered in blood, Ron's blood. The left side of his body was ripped open. I could see his ribs.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Madam Pomfrey said when she noticed me. "It's mostly a surface wound. None of his major arteries were cut, nor were any of his internal organs damaged in any way. But one of his ribs has been completely shattered, and I've got to clean out the particles of bone before I can seal the wound."

I nodded, feeling bile rise in my throat. I backed up, and ran into Bill. He guided me out, and led me to a chair outside Ron's sickbed area.

"Madam Pomfrey reckons she'll be able to put him right quickly," Charlie assured me.

"It's only a matter of time before he's back out here," Bill said, putting an arm around my shoulders. I nodded again, still with my mouth tight shut.

"What happened to you?" Dad asked.

"I…" I hesitated. I didn't want to talk about it, but they'd find out soon enough. "I was trapped. Voldemort had me backed into a corner. But then the Malfoy's used a Portkey, and rescued me. I brought them back to the castle in exchange for… for…"

"The Malfoy's are here?" Bill said.

"Why?"

"They said they could help us," I muttered. "Lucius Malfoy said he could bring him back."

"Bring who back?" Dad asked.

"Harry," I whispered. "Harry's dead. And Mr. Malfoy said he could bring him back. So I brought them back here."

"He's dead?" Dad repeated, his voice trembling. I nodded slowly.

"Voldemort killed him. He nearly killed me too, and would have if the Malfoy's hadn't stepped in."

"But- but no magic can raise the dead!" Bill protested.

"It's complicated," I sighed. "I already feel like bursting into tears, so leave me alone!"

Dad moved over to me, and pulled me into his arms again. I went, feeling tears well up in my eyes. Harry was dead, my brother was bleeding to death, and my worst nightmare had come true.

"Come on, love," Dad whispered. "You ought to get some sleep."

"I don't want to leave," I mumbled.

"You need to sleep," Dad insisted. "I'll take you up to Gryffindor tower, all right?"

I nodded, and let go of him. But I held his hand all the way to Gryffindor tower. Once we reached the painting of the Fat Lady, Dad kissed my forehead, and left for the Entrance hall. The Fat Lady didn't wait for the password, but swung open immediately.

The common room was empty. I put my hand on the door to the girls' dormitories, but hesitated. I turned, and without thinking about it, I opened the door to the boy's dormitories and climbed the stairs to Ron and Harry's dorm. I opened the door, pleased to find it empty like the common room, and crossed the room to Harry's bed. The curtains were open. The bed was unmade. A photo album sat open on the bed side table. I picked it up. The right hand page was taken up by a large picture was of my family, Harry, and Hermione. We were all sitting in the living room, smiling and waving, Fred and George enchanting Percy's hair to turn a violent shade of violet and back again. I was sitting on the couch with Ron, Harry and Hermione. We all had our arms around each other. I was next to Harry, and as I watched, I kissed his cheek. He turned beet red as Ron, Fred, and George laughed. I smiled faintly. Hermione had dared me to kiss him during the photo. I had gotten ten galleons for that kiss. I set the photo album down and sat down on the bed. I drew my knees up to my chest, feeling tears slip down my face. What if Malfoy was lying? What if he couldn't bring Harry back? What if he stayed dead?

Suddenly feeling very tired, I pulled off my shoes, and jacket. I lay down on the bed, and buried my face into Harry's pillow. It smelled like him. I pulled the blankets up over me, and fell asleep.

The next morning I awoke with the sun. I blinked sleep from my eyes and sat up, stretching. Just then, someone banged on the door to the dormitory. I slipped out of bed, and walked across to the door. The stone was cold beneath my feet. I opened the door.

"Good morrow, Miss Weasley," Lucius Malfoy bowed to me, smiling genially. "How are you?"

"I'm going to ignore the fact that this situation is entirely creepy," I said. "I'm okay, though."

"No, you're not, but that is all right. Shows you truly cared for Potter," Malfoy sighed. "I thought that here would be the best place to begin the search for Potter's match, as it is full of his aura. Professor Dumbledore agreed with me."

I nodded slowly, and stepped back so Malfoy could enter. Draco entered behind him, looking at his feet. He was carrying a cloth sack of some sort, and leaning to one side, as if the sack was extremely heavy.

Malfoy stopped in the middle of the room, and took the sack from Draco. He reached into it, a pulled out a wooden stick. Connected to that stick was a wooden top. He pulled a low wood table from the sack and set it on the ground. I was too tired to even raise my eyebrows. He began setting up a potions station using things from the bag. Once the bag was empty, he tossed it aside, and waved a hand at Draco, who nodded and left the room. When he came back, he was pulling a floating stretcher behind him. On it, lay Harry's body. I raised a hand to my mouth, biting my lip. The sight of Harry lying there so still and so pale made an ache rise in my chest.

"Put him there, Draco," Malfoy commanded, gesturing to Neville's bed, which was right in front of him. Draco maneuvered the stretcher onto the bed. I took a shaky breath, and turned to leave. Surely they didn't need me.

"Miss Weasley, you must stay. I will need your help."

"Why?" I asked.

"I need one of his friends, and as your brother is incapacitated, and Granger refuses to leave his bedside, you are the best candidate."

"Fine," I snapped, and crossed the room to Harry's bed. I dropped onto it with a huff. Malfoy gave me an un-amused look.

"When I said I needed your help, Weasley, I didn't mean I needed you the room. I need your active help."

I gave him a scowl. Malfoy gave me a tight smile. "If you could please come over here, I'll need you to help me with the potion."

"What potion?" I asked, now curious.

"The Finding Potion," he answered.

"Wow, whoever named it had a very large imagination," I muttered sarcastically.

"Do not be sarcastic, Weasley, it does not suit you."

I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at him.

"Over here, now, Weasley, my patience is growing thin."

I stood, and joined Malfoy at the table. I glanced over at Draco. "What's he supposed to do?"

"Stand there and wait for me to ask him to get something," Malfoy responded distractedly. I smirked. Draco scowled.

"Paper boy," I mocked him.

"Weasel," he snapped.

"Ferret!"

"Gnat!"

"Stop it!" Malfoy cried. "Draco, do not provoke Weasley. Weasley, leave him alone."

"Fine," Draco muttered.

"I can promise nothing," I said darkly.

"We can all tell you are in a bad mood, Weasley," Draco snapped. "You don't have to force it on us."

I glared at him, but chose not to reply.

"Now, if you two have finished your petty bickering," Malfoy said in a exasperated voice, "we can begin the potion."

"How long will it take to complete it?" I asked, trying not to think of how I had bickered with Harry just before his death.

"Fortunately for us, not long," Malfoy said, pulling from his robes the book he had shown Dumbledore. He set it upon a stand and pulled out his wand. "The potion itself is not complicated, but there is very difficult spell work to be done once it is complete."

"But how long, exactly?" I repeated, frustrated with him.

"It will be ready by the full moon," Malfoy said, sounding frustrated himself. He turned a page in the book, and tapped the caldron with his wand. It filled with water.

"Draco, take these scissors and cut off some of Potter's hair," Malfoy commanded, conjuring a pair of scissors with a wave of his wand. Draco snatched them out of the air, and crossed to the bedside where Harry's body rested. I looked away, and focused on Malfoy's potion. He was starting a fire beneath the caldron. The wood soon caught fire, and Malfoy coaxed it into a blaze.

"The fire must be hot because Potter's feelings for his match will be passionate," he explained. I nodded, trying not to think about Harry feeling passionate about any girl. Like the pink elephant in the room, I thought about it. I wondered what it would be like to be the girl he was passionate for.

Malfoy opened a small drawstring pouch and pulled dried rose buds from it. He dropped them one by one into the potion, and soon the sweet smell of the roses filled the room. He added fireseeds, and the potion hissed as the water turned red. Draco set a vile full of black hairs on the table. I avoided my eyes.

"Weasley, take this and pour seven drops into the caldron," Malfoy said, putting a black glass jar in my hands. I uncorked it, and wrinkled my nose at the heavy scent. The jar was full of dark liquid that smelled strongly of gasoline. I tipped the jar over the caldron, and let out seven droplets. The potion's bubbling surface settled.

"What is this stuff?" I asked.

"Re'em blood," he answered. "The feelings between Potter and his match must be very strong."

"Isn't that the same as passionate?"

"No, no, it's quite different," Malfoy muttered, now squinting at the page. "Oh, of course. Ashwinder dust."

Malfoy added this and that to his caldron, muttering to himself and yelling for Draco to fetch him something from Hogwarts greenhouses or for me to measure out foul-smelling liquids.

By the time noon had rolled around, both Draco and I were sitting on the floor in front of Neville's trunk. Him panting- he had just run to and from Hagrid's hut to get unicorn hair, as Malfoy did not have enough- and me breathing through my handkerchief. Malfoy was in his own little bubble, serenely adding ingredients to his potion. At half past two, the door opened, and a little army of house elves staggered into the room, each carrying trays stacked with food and some other inedible substances that I hoped were for the potion. Draco went to help them, while Malfoy stirred the potion and I crushed more flower heads: larkspur and delphinium, according to Malfoy. The house elves bowed, and left the room. Draco had just picked up a red apple, and was about to bite into it when Malfoy walked over to him and plucked it out of his hand. Draco scowled at his father while he took a knife to it and carved something into it. I caught a glimpse of the single word, Harry, as Malfoy dropped it into the caldron. The potion began to boil, and the apple slowly disintegrated, turning the potion a fall leaf type red.

Then Malfoy took the vile with Harry's hair in it, and emptied it. The potion turned gold.

"Help me put the caldron by the window," he said. Draco came over, grumbling, and we helped Malfoy heave the caldron over to the window. Malfoy pulled the curtains aside so sunlight fell through it into the caldron. The warm hue of the potion turned a darker shade of gold. Malfoy waved his wand over it, and the potion began to bubble gently.

"We must let it sit until the full moon," Malfoy announced. "Then we shall discover the identity of Potter's match, and the location of the rest of his soul."

Malfoy looked up at me, and my spine began to crawl. I looked away. The intensity with which he stared me down was just downright creepy.

"Draco, stay here and watch the potion. When twilight falls, add the powdered flower heads," Malfoy said abruptly, and he left the room, grabbing a sandwich from the table of food as he went. I followed him with my eyes, wondering why Draco had to watch the potion.

"Yay," Draco muttered, dropping onto a nearby bed. "Potion watching. How fun."

"Don't forget the dead body," I reminded him. My gaze wandered from the door to the bed where Harry's body lay. Draco muttered something under his breath.

"I have to go check on my brother," I said, and hurried from the room. It had just been weird when Malfoy was in there, now the room had an aura of disturbance.

My feet carried me from the dormitory, down to the common room. It was empty, like the night before. I gave it no second thoughts as I pushed through the portrait hole, and left Gryffindor tower. The corridor beyond was empty as well. I wandered aimlessly, down from Gryffindor Tower to the Entrance hall. Like the common room and the corridors above, it was empty. Guessing that they had moved to the Hospital wing, I turned, and walked back up to the first floor. I passed no one on the way. Now, the lack of people was starting to alarm me. It as a Sunday afternoon. Surely not everyone was out of the corridors.

I reached the Hospital Wing quickly, but so lost in my thoughts was I, that I walked right past it, and had to double back. I pushed open the door, and stepped inside.

Unlike the rest of the castle, the Hospital Wing was rather full. Most of the beds were occupied, and people were going up and down the wing, checking on patients and speaking to each other. I spotted my family right away. They were standing in the very back, outside a set of screens. Madam Pomfrey exited the screens as I began to approach. As I passed her, she gave a tiny nod of her head, and a smile. I smiled back, the muscles in my cheeks protesting at the movement. I pushed past people, whispering "Sorry, excuse me, pardon," whenever I brushed against them. I reached my family soon, and my mother threw her arms around me. I staggered back slightly, patting her back awkwardly.

"Where have you been all day?" Mum asked once she stopped attempting to strangle me.

"Up in Gryffindor Tower," I said, rubbing my ribs. "Malfoy needed my help with the potion to find Harry's match."

"What potion?" Mum asked while the rest of my family cried out "MALFOY?"

"Malfoy says he can bring Harry back," I said. "Making the potion was one of the steps."

"No magic can raise-" Percy began.

"Raise the dead, yeah, I know," I snapped. "The way Malfoy explained it, Harry isn't one hundred percent dead. Part of his soul is still in this world."

"Ginny, you mustn't partake of such evil magic," Percy said.

"It's our only hope of bringing him back!" I said. I could feel a tear slip down my face as I said it.

"Necromancy is, and has always been, one of the darkest arts-"

"Dumbledore approved the plan! Malfoy insists that a bit of Harry's soul is inside someone, a girl, in this world. The rest of his soul is stuck between our world and the next one. And Malfoy says that he can pull Harry's soul out of limbo using the bit that's inside his match, and I believe him. He swore on his magic that he isn't trying to trick us."

Percy opened his mouth to argue more, but I shouldered past him and pushed through the curtains.

Hermione was in there, sitting by Ron's bed. Ron was unconscious, a blanket pulled up to his waist. His chest was wrapped up in a white bandage. Hermione smiled tightly at me when I sat down on the other side of Ron's bed.

"Where've you been?" she asked, though in a completely different tone than Mum. "I thought you would come before now."

I drew a shaky breath. "With Lucius Malfoy."

Hermione frowned. "Why?"

"He needed help with a potion."

"Why's Lucius Malfoy here?"

I locked eyes with her. "Haven't they told you?"

She shook her head. "All I know is that Ron's on the edge of death. Oh, have you seen Harry? He hasn't dropped by either."

At that, I burst into tears. Hermione jumped up, alarmed, and hurried over to my side.

"What's the matter?" she asked, putting her arm around my shoulders.

"They haven't told you anything!" I said shakily. "Hermione, Harry can't just drop by. He- he…"

My eyes fell on Ron's face, so pale, so peaceful. Harry didn't look like that. He still looked horrified.

"What?" Hermione asked. "What's the matter with Harry?"

"He's dead."

Hermione's face registered shock. She sat down on the edge of Ron's bed, her face growing as white as Ron's.

"How?"

"Voldemort killed him. Yesterday, in Hogsmeade," it all came gushing out, right there, with Ron unconscious and tears still flowing freely from my eyes. "We- we were fighting, together. Harry was dueling with Voldemort, and I was fighting Tom. Tom, he hit me with the Cruciatus curse, and Harry got distracted trying to stop him. Voldemort put him in a body bind, and then he killed him. Tom stopped the Cruciatus just to make me watch. After he was killed, I attacked Voldemort. I was up against him and Tom. They cornered me, and I begged to have Harry's body with me when they killed me. But before they could, Malfoy touched me with a Portkey and saved me…"

"Where is his body?" Hermione asked softly.

"Up in his dorm. On Neville's bed," I laughed softly. "They didn't put him in his bed because I was there."

"There?"

"In his bed. I slept there last night."

Hermione nodded, and an ironic smile twisted her lips. "Betcha yesterday morn, you wouldn't even be dreaming of sleeping in Harry's bed."

I nodded. "Betcha yesterday morn, you wouldn't even be dreaming of watching Ron die."

"He's not dying. Madam Pomfrey fixed him up. He'll sleep a while longer, but he should wake up in a few days. His body still has to replenish blood, and that cut needs to rest."

I nodded again. "Maybe we'll have Harry back by then."

"What?"

"Malfoy says he can bring Harry back," I said again, for the umpteenth time.

"But-"

"Before you say 'no magic can raise the dead,' listen to me," I said. "According to this book Malfoy's got, Harry is between our world, this world, and the After-World. He's stuck because he has to wait until all of his soul in the waiting realm. Part of his soul is still here, inside of his soul match. Malfoy called him a Fidelis Anima: that means that he's a really strong wizard, and he's got only one person out there destined for him. Part of his soul is inside her, and part of her soul is inside him. Malfoy got this information from a book written by the Founders of Hogwarts, and from Harry's family tree. He says the Potter family is full of Fidelis Animas, and since Harry's parents were Fidelis Animas, then he is too. And Malfoy says we can bring Harry back using the part of him that's still in his soul match."

Hermione opened her mouth, said nothing, and then closed it. She seemed lost for words.

"Let me get this straight," she said, shaking her head as though to try to clear it. "Harry's dead, but not all the way dead. And we have to depend on Lucius Malfoy, a Death Eater, to bring him back."

"Yes."

Hermione looked over at Ron. Then her expression hardened, and she turned back to me. "What do we have to do?"


	4. Chapter 4 A Prophecy

**Chapter Four**

**A Prophecy**

"Well, this morning Malfoy, Draco, and I made a potion to help us find Harry's match. Right now the potion is brewing. We have to wait until the full moon to complete it."

"Good thing that's tonight, then," Hermione said. "What else?"

"There's some complicated spell Malfoy has to perform at the full moon, and then we know who Harry's match is. After that, Malfoy hasn't said."

"Ginny," Hermione paused, then plunged on, "remember this: whoever Harry's match is, you are still one of his greatest friends," Hermione said. "His very greatest, even."

"No, I'm not. You and Ron-"

"After Sirius died, Harry stopped talking to us for months. We'd send letters, and he'd send back one sentence replies. But he didn't ignore your letters, did he? He always replied to them, didn't he? Ron was shocked when he found out that you and he were pen pals all of a sudden. He told me. I wrote to Harry about it, and he sent back a letter saying that it was none of my business, but that you were helping him get out of his depressed mood. He said your letters were like a light on a starless night. You are his best friend now, no matter what."

I looked away. I had no idea that Harry held me in such high regard. Just then, Ron let out a grunting snore that made Hermione and I both jump. Hermione reached over, and brushed his hair away from his face. He shifted, turning his head and shoulders to face us, and slept on. We sat in silence awhile longer.

"Ginny, is there anything else you have to tell me?"

I started to shake my head, but hesitated. "Yeah, yeah, there's something else. Hermione, can there be two of someone?"

"What?"

"Can there be two of someone, like two me's, or two Ron's."

"If you're asking if there's a second Harry-"

"No, not him."

"Well," Hermione thought for a moment. "Yes, I guess so. I mean, if you use a time turner, there's two of you, but that's all I can think of."

"Hermione, in Hogsmeade, there was Voldemort, and there was Tom."

"Tom?" she repeated. Then her eyes widened and she gasped. "Tom from…"

"The diary, yeah," I said. "He was there, and very alive. But Harry destroyed the diary, in the Chamber. He destroyed Tom, but Tom was in Hogsmeade. I fought with him. He put the Cruciatus on me."

Hermione stared at me in silence. Then she sighed. "I haven't got an answer for you. But, Ginny, you need to tell Dumbledore this. He needs to know that You-Know-Who's got a second him."

I nodded. Hermione nodded as well, and turned back to Ron. I pulled my legs up to my chest and rested my chin on my knees. I was glad that Hermione had accepted what I said so readily, though puzzled. Maybe her brain was just as overloaded as mine, and she just didn't want to argue. We watched Ron sleep a while, then Mum came in and told me that Dumbledore wanted to talk to me. I stood, and dropped a kiss onto Ron's forehead. He shifted, and a grunting snore slipped from his lips. Hermione waved to me as I left. The man I met last night, Alasdair, I thought his name was, was waiting for me. He curled a finger, and walked away. I followed. He led me from the Hospital Wing up the stairs to the Headmaster's office. Outside it, Alasdair laid a hand on the gargoyle and it leapt aside, revealing the entrance. He held out his hand, gesturing for me to go first. As I passed him, I wondered if he ever spoke. At the door to Dumbledore's office, Alasdair stepped in front of me and rapped on the oak doors with his knuckle.

"Enter," Dumbledore called. Alasdair opened the door. I entered. He pulled the door shut.

I glanced behind me. Then I fixed my eyes on Dumbledore. He was standing in the middle of the room, hands folded behind his back.

"Please, Miss Weasley, come sit."

I stepped forward hesitantly. I'd never been alone with the Headmaster before. He gestured to a chair in front of his desk and I took it. Dumbledore remained standing.

"I need to hear your account of the attack," he said.

"My account?"

"What you saw," Dumbledore confirmed. He crossed to his chair behind the desk.

"Why me?"

"My dear, I have heard many stories of yesterday. Few could tell me exactly how Harry died."

I clenched my jaw. Of course. He wanted to hear about Harry. Dumbledore looked at me, with such a strange expression, so akin to pity.

"I know that it will be difficult to speak of. Believe me, I know. But, my dear, it gets better. And if what Mr. Malfoy says is true, then we will be able to speak to young Harry again. Perhaps soon. I must hear your account. I once said to Mr. Potter, numbing the pain will only make it worse once you finally feel it."

I nodded, my teeth still clenched together as if I had eaten one of Hagrid's rock cakes. How could he know? How was it possible that he knew what it felt like to see someone you love shot down before you?

"Well," I began, trying to keep my voice clear of all emotion, "the Death Eaters attacked at about half past four. They flooded High Street with Dementors, and they caught us off guard. Harry got into a fight with Voldemort and Voldemort killed him. I attacked him, and he nearly killed me, but Malfoy touched me with a Portkey, and took me and Harry's body to the Forbidden Forest. Then we- the Malfoy's and I- walked back to Hogwarts." I finished quickly, proud that I had not let my voice quaver nor my eyes leak.

Dumbledore pressed the tips of his fingers together, looking at me curiously. Again, his expression was something akin to pity. I looked down at my lap, and was surprised to find my hands clenched in fists so tight, that a trickle of blood seeped from beneath my left middle finger. I relaxed my hands quickly, and wiped away sweat and blood onto the leg of my jeans.

"Is that all?"

I hesitated. Hermione said I should tell him, but it was easy to tell Hermione. I didn't need to explain to sense of irrational fear, nor the strange relief. I didn't need to explain about the nightmares…

"It- it's not all," I said after a few moments tense silence. I attempted to steady my voice, for it had trembled. "Dumbledore, there are two of him."

"What?"

"There are two Voldemort's," I said. My efforts to calm my self failed, and my voice betrayed my fear. "One normal Voldemort, and one young…"

"Tom Riddle," Dumbledore whispered. I nodded.

"Does he look the same as he did in the diary?"

I nodded.

"Are you sure?" Dumbledore leaned forward. "Are you absolutely sure? There are no differences in his appearance now than his appearance in his diary?"

"I- well, he did look a little older. His eyes were more red, and his hair was longer, sort of."

Dumbledore nodded slowly. Then he stood.

"Ginevra, what I am about to tell you must not leave this room," he said, walking over to a cabinet near his desk. He opened it, and pulled from it a shallow stone basin. He returned, set the basin on the desk, and sat down again.

"This is all speculation, mind you. Like Harry, I believe Lord Voldemort's body does not contain all of his soul. Unlike Harry, Voldemort has purposefully shattered his soul, severed parts of it, and hidden the parts inside objects. One of those objects I believe to be the diary you encountered in your first year. These objects are called Horcruxes. I have been trying to find the rest of Voldemort's Horcruxes all year; and I have been teaching Harry about Lord Voldemort's background. And I am going to tell you why I have been teaching him these things."

Dumbledore pulled his wand out and tapped the surface of the silvery contents of the stone basin.

"This is a Pensive," he said. "It contains many of my memories, one of which is the memory of a prophecy. You will remember that the Death Eaters lured Harry and you and your friends to the Department of Mysteries to recover a prophecy. This is that prophecy."

The silvery substance swirled, and from it rose the figure of a woman, draped in shawls and wearing glasses that severely magnified her eyes.

Professor Trelawney spoke, though in sharp harsh tones very unlike her normal mystic voice.

"THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD APPROACHES… BORN TO PARENTS THAT HAVE THRICE DEFIED HIM, BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH… AND THE DARK LORD WILL MARK HIM AS HIS EQUAL, BUT HE SHALL HAVE POWERS THE DARK LORD KNOWS NOT… AND EITHER MUST DIE AT THE HAND OF THE OTHER, FOR NEITHER CAN LIVE WHILE THE OTHER SURVIVES… THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD SHALL BE BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES…"

I looked up. Dumbledore waved his wand and Professor Trelawney sank back into the basin.

"It means Harry."

"Yes," Dumbledore sighed. "Either Harry was destined to die at the hand of Voldemort, or he is destined to kill Voldemort. Now I think the former is true."

"But we can bring him back!"

Dumbledore nodded slowly. "Yes, but should we?"

"Of course we should!" I said. "He has to defeat Voldemort!"

"Yes…" Dumbledore sighed. "But I am beginning to think that he WAS destined to die."

I gaped at him. "What the hell are you babbling about?"

Dumbledore gave me an annoyed look. I muttered, "Sorry."

"It is my belief," he said, "that Harry's match's piece of soul wasn't the only bit of soul in him that did not belong to him."

...HGHGHGHG...

White. All white. I do not understand why it is all white. I feel strange, like I'm out of my body. I can't move. Each time I try, I feel like I'm under a full body bind…

I see something in the distance, a fleeting image, a shadow, a faded figure, clothed in red and golden light, but each time I try to catch it, each time I reach out to touch it, it darts away from me. I hear laughter, sweet and musical, but I do not know why the laughter is there. Had I done something amusing? But the laughter changes, morphs from sweet confusion to screams. I am startled. Screaming, terrible, horrible, gut-wrenching screams of agony overload my senses. I hear sobs and I want to reach even harder, to catch this figure that screams and laughs and cries, and comfort them. The screaming gets worse. I feel pain running down the left side of my body, spreading until white hot needles pierce each and every cell of my body. I scream along with them, and then the white oblivion returns, and I forget the screams as laughter rejoins me…

...HGHGHGHG...

Draco Malfoy always thought he had the best of everything. Money, excellent broom, pretty girls, etc. But now, sitting on the floor of the Gryffindor boys' dormitory, he felt very depressed. It didn't help that there was a dead body not ten feet from him.

Here he was, heir to the vast fortune of the Malfoy Family, watching a stupid potion. All day he'd been running all over the castle to get things for his father, like a common house elf. Draco felt very much like knocking over the caldron in front of him, but didn't knowing that if he did, then his father would have to make it all over again and everyone would hate him more because his father wouldn't be able to complete the potion again before sunrise, and then they'd have to wait until the next full moon, and Weasley would probably cry again, and his father would be disappointed with him.

Draco stood, feeling hungry and angry, and walked over to the table laden with the food brought up by the house elves. He grabbed a turkey leg, and bit into it. Juices leaked from it and dribbled over his chin to his shirt. He picked up a napkin and wiped his mouth. He walked over to the bed where the body lay. He looked down at Potter, pondering why Weasley was so desperate to bring him back. He wasn't all that good looking, and honestly, just as arrogant as he was. Potter, precious Potter, everyone's hero. Draco turned away with a sneer, and returned to his seat by the caldron. He ate the turkey leg, watching the potion bubble.

After the sunset, Draco remembered what his father had said. He grabbed the mortar, full of the crushed flower heads, and stood over the caldron until he was sure it was twilight. He tipped the mortar and spilled the crushed flowers into the caldron. The potion began to boil, and the color changed from dark gold to match to sky outside. Draco, satisfied that his job was done, left to tell his father of the developments of the potion.

Now the room was empty of all living persons. Steam began to rise off the surface of the potion. It drifted through the air to where the body lay, and settled over it. The surface of the potion calmed, and slowly, the color began to darken.

...HGHGHGHG...

I am cold. I don't know how long I've been here, wherever here is. The laughter is gone again, and I hear nothing but screams. I feel drowsy, like I've taken a sleeping draught. I don't know why.

Now I am warm. The screams fade back to laughter I smell something sweet, like flowers. I can't place the flowers, but I am reminded of someone… someone with long red hair that smells sweet and flowery…

The figure draped in red and gold light dances tantalizingly close to me, and I reach out to grab it. But it ducks away from me the very second my fingers go to close around its arm. Then the light reaches out to me, and runs a finger down the side of my face. My eyes close and I hear a whisper, as soft as the beat of a hummingbird's wings, a whisper in my ear.

'Come home.'


	5. Chapter 5 Fidelis Anima

**Chapter Five**

**Fidelis Anima**

I stared open mouthed at Dumbledore. He took my silence as a plea for explanation.

"If, when, we bring back Harry, we will also bring back the part of his match's soul, yes?"

"If you say so," I mumbled.

"And if we bring back a part of soul that isn't his, then it is logical to assume that we will bring forth an alien soul."

"What? As in, things from outer space?"

"No, alien as in foreign. Because Harry's soul, and the part of soul that belongs to his match aren't the only bit of soul in him."

I blinked at him. Dumbledore sighed.

"When Lord Voldemort traveled to Godric's Hollow to kill Harry, he had the intention of creating another Horcrux. I think that he already had five at this point, and was intending to make a sixth by killing Harry and his parents. You see, the way to make a Horcrux is to kill another person. By killing, the ultimate act of evil, the soul convulses, and tears. There is a spell to rip a part of soul from your body, and contain it inside something else. A diary for example. Or," Dumbledore held up his right hand, showing the blackened fingers and dead skin. On his middle finger was a ring, made of gold and clumsily set with a black stone, "a ring."

I shuddered. "You-Know-Who turned that into a Horcrux? And you're wearing it?"

Dumbledore looked at it, and then smiled at me. "I have destroyed the bit of soul that was in it, and this artifact was already magical and mystical before Voldemort defiled it."

"What was it then?"

"That is a lesson for later, my dear," he said. I scowled. "As I was saying, Voldemort intended to create another Horcrux after killing Harry. As we know, he did not succeed in murdering our friend. But he did manage to kill James and Lily Potter, and countless others. So when Voldemort went to kill Harry, his soul was damaged and fractured beyond repair. When the Killing Curse rebounded upon Lord Voldemort, a piece of soul severed completely from him, and latched on to the first living, breathing thing it could find. As Voldemort was neither dead nor alive, but in state of limbo, similar to what Harry is in, that bit of soul detached from him and clung to Harry. When Voldemort succeed finally in killing Harry yesterday, the bit of soul belonging to Voldemort went with Harry and his match's soul to the Waiting Realm. And it is there, now, waiting for the rest of Voldemort to join it."

I finally closed my open mouth, and drew my legs up to my chest. The idea that both Harry and I had been exposed to Voldemort, but that he had a piece of him inside him, while I had just been controlled and possessed, horrified me.

"Ginevra," Dumbledore said softly. "I know that you are desperate to bring him back, but I fear that if you do, the piece of Voldemort that was connected to him will return as well. It has been in him so long, that it is a part of him. You know of the excursions into Voldemort's mind Harry took in his sleep last year?"

I nodded.

"Voldemort and Harry have a link through the piece of soul that is in him, and they have the ability to see into one another's mind. I assume that his match will have that ability as well, but the link between Voldemort and Harry is dangerous, dark and disturbing. Harry has been having nightmares that aren't nightmares, that are real, and if we bring him back, the link between his soul and Voldemort will only aid in bringing along the piece of soul that is Voldemort's."

I blinked again. The words seemed to take a long time in reaching me. _Voldemort and Harry can see into each other's mind… His match probably can too… If we bring back Harry, we risk bringing back bit of Voldemort… "I assume that his match will have that ability as well…" His match can see into his mind? _

"When you say 'see into each other's minds,'" I said, choosing my words carefully, "do you mean that they can read each other's minds?"

"Well, no, just sense emotions, see snippets of what the other is seeing, hear the strongest thoughts, things like that."

I nodded. "And you think we shouldn't bring back Harry?"

"I'm afraid so."

"But to bring back Harry, we have to use the bit of his soul that's in his match. And to bring back his match's soul, we have to use the soul that's in her. So we have four parts of two wholes, and there's a part of Voldemort that you think will piggy-back onto Harry's soul to get out of the Waiting Realm?"

"Yes."

"The way Malfoy explained it to me, we have to use the part of Harry's soul that's in his match to pull the rest of him out of the Waiting Realm, and use her soul to pull the bit that was in Harry. But we can't pull on Voldemort's soul because we haven't got a sample to pull with."

"But because Harry and Voldemort have been connected for so long, their minds are linked for now and forever. There is nothing I or you can do to break that link. The only way to is to kill Voldemort."

"I still don't understand, why can't we just pull Harry's soul, and his match's soul, and leave Voldemort's?"

"Because Harry's soul has mixed with Voldemort's! Souls are like a liquid, mixed in a glass or bowl, not pieces stuck together with glue."

"If that's how it worked, then we wouldn't need to pull on the bit of his match that's in him!"

Dumbledore clenched his jaw. I could guess that he was frustrated with me. Then, his brow furrowed, and his face took on a perplexed expression.

"Perhaps you are right, Miss Weasley," he said. "Perhaps you are wrong. I will think this over, and discuss it with the other Headmasters, and with Lucius Malfoy. If you are incorrect, as I suspect, then Harry will have to stay in the Waiting Realm. If you are correct, then we will go ahead as planned."

I nodded again. I seem to be doing a lot of nodding today.

"Is there anything else?" I asked.

"No, you may leave," he sighed. "Thank you for seeing me. And about the two Voldemort's you saw," he smiled grimly, "I will find an explanation."

I couldn't think of anything to say, so I nodded. Again. I stood, and turned to go. Then, I remembered what Tom had said to me, about my being his equal…

"Professor, when I first saw Tom, I thought he was a hallucination, because I was surrounded by Dementors; he was talking to me, about how we could 'rid the world of the unworthy,' or something like that. And he said that he wanted me to be his queen, and that I was his equal, and something about the others being jealous of me, and afraid of me, of my potential. I don't understand that: isn't Tom the kind of person who thinks everyone below him?"

Dumbledore touched the tips of his fingers together, an expression of puzzlement on his face.

"What you say is true, Lord Voldemort trusts no one, and thinks of no one as equal. Probably what he was trying to do is trick you, to charm you into changing sides. Why, I cannot be sure… unless…" he trailed off, his eyes locked on mine, the intensity of his gaze so strong, I looked away.

"Unless what?"

"Perhaps… but no… then again, it could be…"

"What?"

Dumbledore stood, and lowered the tip of his wand to touch the surface of the silvery memories, when the door behind us opened, and Alasdair entered.

"Professor, Lucius Malfoy asks that you and Miss Weasley come to Gryffindor tower, to see the last stages of the potion being completed."

"And we shall respond to our summons," Dumbledore said, standing. "We will continue this later. Come."

I scrambled to my feet, and followed Dumbledore to the door. Alasdair inclined his head as we passed, and shut the door behind us. We traveled from Dumbledore's office to Gryffindor tower quickly, no one passed us, no one slowed us down. Alasdair went with us, and as we walked, I found myself studying him. He held his head high and proud, his handsome features sliding in and out of the light of the torches. His hair was a dark brown, falling in waves over his forehead, reaching down to his collar. His eyes were the color of the noon sky, like Dumbledore's. Now that I looked, there were subtle similarities between Dumbledore and Alasdair. Their eyes for one. Their jaws were the same, and their cheekbones situated just so.

"Professor," I said, moving closer to my teacher. "Professor, are you and him related?"

"Alasdair is my nephew," Dumbledore said.

"Nephew?"

"My brother's son," he turned to me with an understanding smile. "He takes after his father in looks mostly, but he is more like his mother. Quite like young Mr. Potter."

I glanced back at Alasdair, and his eyes flicked to mine. I looked away, to my feet.

"Most young girl's are smitten with him when they first meet him, but you do not appear to be affected."

I looked up at Dumbledore, my cheeks warming to match my hair. Dumbledore smiled again.

I kept my eyes determinedly fixed on the ground until we reached Gryffindor tower. The Fat Lady swung open without hesitation as we approached, and Dumbledore led the way into the common room. Draco sat slouching in one of the armchairs before the fire. I felt hatred boil up inside at the sight of him sitting in the very chair Harry would occupy every night. Draco looked up lazily at us.

"He's upstairs," he drawled. "With his mad potion. You'd better get up there before he goes ahead without you."

Dumbledore mounted the stairs to the boys' dormitories, and Alasdair followed him. I lingered in the common room glaring at the back of Malfoy's head. He glanced around to me, and drew his lips back in a sneer.

"Better go, little weaselette, your precious dead Potter awaits you."

I turned away, squeezing my eyes shut as I climbed the stairs. I pushed open the door to the dormitory, and stepped inside. Dumbledore and Malfoy stood over by the window, talking in hushed tones. Alasdair stood by Neville's bed, looking down at the body. My eyes wandered without permission to land on Harry's face. Pale, twisted, horrified; my heart tore in two at the sight. My feet carried me unbidden to the bedside. Alasdair glanced up at my approach, and stepped aside. My hand reached out, and, shaking, brushed a strand of hair away from his brow. His skin was ice cold. I jerked my hand back, and stepped away, to the center of the room.

"Ah, yes, Miss Weasley," Malfoy said. "Come here; are you ready for the completion of the potion?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"No guessing. Either you know or you don't."

"Right," I muttered. My dark mood of this morning had returned. Malfoy frowned at me.

"Come," he repeated.

I stepped forward, and Malfoy extended the book to me. I took it with a frown.

"Don't you need this?"

"No, Wesley, you must perform the spell."

"Why me?"

"The instructions are that Harry himself must perform the spell, but as Potter is, well, dead, you are the best substitute."

"Okay," I said slowly, ignoring the blunt reminder that my best friend was dead. "Right, spell…" I opened the book, and found that a ribbon marked a page. I looked up, Malfoy nodded with an encouraging smile. I flicked through the pages until I reached the marked page. I frowned.

"Malfoy, this is all in a different language."

"French, yes."

"I don't speak French!"

"That does not matter, as you sing the spell, the words will change on the page. I do not know what languages they will form, but I am sure that it will eventually become English. Not only that, but by the time it changes to English, the words will describe Potter's match. Then, an image will form in the steam of the caldron, and form her name."

"Sing? I have to sing it? I don't sing either!"

"My dear, I am sure you have a lovely voice," Dumbledore said.

"Just sing it, Weasley!"

I let out my breath in a shuddering gasp. I focused my eyes on the page, and a melody entered my head. More modern than I expected, with a slow beat, but with the cords of a guitar. Piano played along with it, and before I knew it, the words on the page were pouring from my mouth.

"Qui êtes-vous qui sourit si doucement à moi dans mes rêves?" Then, the structure of the words changed, right before my eyes, to form Spanish. "¿Quién eres tú que ríe en la noche? Oigo tu voz, oler su perfume." Again, it changed, to what I thought was Irish. "Ach féach mé tú. A thabhairt dom do íomhá. Taispeáin dom do aghaidh." Then it changed again, to something that I guessed to be Latin. "Sentio ardens hoc desidérium. Libidinosa ignis." After that, it returned to Irish. "Cé go bhfuil tú go whispers de prophecies thab?"

"Beautiful! Keep going!"

I smiled faintly, and looked back to the page. The Irish words had changed, and now were English. The melody vanished, and now my words came out without the melody. I sighed, and plunged on. "Who are you that speaks of destiny? Bring me your image, show me your face? I take on the power of the moon, its glistening silver, I cast out my soul to find you. More than my own life, I wish to find you. Oh, silver coin of the sky, lend me your strength! I seek one whose lips are sweet and dripping with honey. I seek one's whose hair is red as blood and rich as the Goblin Hordes. I seek one whose manner is kind and fiery. Show me her. Caldron bubble, toil and trouble. Smoke curl and twist, Her name will show the name of she whom my heart longs for,

She who completes my soul. Show me. Now."

...HGHGHGHG...

I hear words, but they are garbled, forever shifting and changing. First I think I hear a girl's voice, and then it is the voice of an old man, then a voice sharp and cold as the crashing waves of the ocean. They speak a language that I do not understand. Once it sounded of hisses and snarls, but then they it sounded like birds singing in the sunset. A sweet melody fills my head, and the figure draped in red and golden light danced to it. I want to reach out to her, to touch her, but she dances away every time I try. A beast in my chest, a beast of desire, raises its head and roars in anger. I try harder; she dances farther. I cannot grasp her. She laughs at me, and beckons to me.

'Don't give up.' Her voice is soft, and melodic in my mind. I stretch out my arm, stretching it farther than ever. And I feel her, her skin on mine. Her hand grasps mine, and she smiles, the golden light growing brighter. I cannot see her face, but I know she's smiling a smile so sweet, that I want to kiss it. I reach out to touch her face, and she jerks away. I fall to my knees, she starts to cry, and she's gone, dancing her dance farther away than before. I don't remember how, but I know this girl. I don't remember why, but I care for this girl. Her running from me angers me, and it confuses me.

'Come back,' I want to scream, but the words are lost on my lips, my tongue refuses to obey. She's gone, I cannot reach her. My body is weak; I cannot stand. I hang my head in shame. Her cries increase, and they pull me to my feet. I chase after her, and she runs. I cannot catch her; she's too quick. I try to run as fast as she, but she hides from me. I sink to my knees once more, and let out a scream of frustration. It reverberates throughout the white expanse, and I see a glimmer of red light. I reach out to it, and it fades away. She's hiding from me, why, I do not know.

...HGHGHGHG...

I looked in startled amazement as steam poured off the surface of the potion, twisting and curling in mid-air. The strands of smoke gathered in one place, and formed a single word.

"Is it…?" I started, my eyes fixed on the name.

"It is!" Malfoy said triumphantly. "I was right!"

"I-I don't understand!" I cried. "Why?"

"Did you not expect this?" Malfoy asked. "I knew it from the start."

"Why didn't you tell me?" I cried, flinging the book aside, and waving my hand through the smoke to dissipate the word.

"I thought you knew as well," he said.

"Well, I didn't," I said, my breath heavy. I felt something warm and wet slide down my cheek. "This wasn't supposed to happen… It was supposed to be someone else…"

"Ginevra," Dumbledore said quietly, "it's all right. You-"

"No!" I said. "I thought it would be someone else, anybody else! Not- not…"

"What's wrong with it?" Alasdair called from the back of the room. "Don't like her?"

"No, it's not that…" I trailed off, my words catching in my throat.

"Oh, I see," Alasdair said, coming up behind me. "You weren't expecting this. You were caught off guard."

"Yeah," I said. I brushed aside tears, then pushed past Alasdair, and ran from the room. I ran to the common room, where Draco called out "What's the matter, weaselette? It wasn't you?"

I ignored him, and ran on, out of the common room, slamming the Fat Lady's portrait closed behind me. I ran from Gryffindor tower down the corridors, down the stairs, until I had nowhere to go. I had run to the basement, and now stood before the fruit painting that guarded the kitchen. I reached out and tickled the pear, the painting swung forward, and I stepped inside. The House Elves were just finished the process of cleaning the kitchens. One approached me, and bowed low.

"How may Lemon help you, miss?"

"Uh, just bring me some hot chocolate, please," I said, not really thinking about it. Lemon bowed again, and bustled off to fetch me a mug of hot chocolate. I wandered through the sea of elves, to the fireplace in the very back. Flames crackled in the hearth, dancing and leaping like ballet dancers. I sat before the hearth, and pulled my knees to my chest. Lemon stepped forward, and handed me a mug. I whispered my thanks, and sipped from it. It was delicious, the perfect mix of chocolate and sugar, with a hint of spice. Cinnamon.

I stared into the flames, wishing to forget the whole night. The whole week. Why couldn't it just be a dream? Could I fall asleep here, and wake up the next morning and the Hogsmeade weekend not have happened? Have Harry still here with me, and my nightmares gone?

The flames' dance morphed, from merry leaping to mellow twists and turns. It matched my mood. I squeezed my eyes shut, and wished that it would all just go away.

I opened them, and the flames danced in my eyes. The smoke unfurling from the fire curled in the air, and for a moment, I saw the name in the smoke. But then I blinked, and it was gone.

"Why? Why did it have to be that name?" I whispered. "Why not someone else, I know he fancied Cho. Why not her?"

The words dripped from my lips like honey, unbidden, as the spell had said.

"Why me?"


	6. Chapter 6 Souls and Secrets

**A/N:** I've had a lot of reviews saying that I'm spelling Ginny's full name wrong, whether it's Ginerva or Ginevra. I have truly heard it both ways, unlike Shawn Spencer. I'm posting this story on SIYE, and it bothers them too but you guys seem to favor Ginerva while they favor Ginevra. Please let it go people. I'm trying to make everybody happy and I really don't want to go through having to change the story depending on which site I post it on. On a seperate but related note, thank you for all your reviews, it always brings a smile to my face when I see that people take the time to give me there opinion, whether they liked the story or not. So, thank you, and please enjoy Chapter Six.

**Chapter Six**

**Souls and Secrets**

I hear her before I see her. She's crying harder than before, and her light is pulsing, and growing dim. A moment ago, she was hiding from me. Now she sobs, and cries out 'Why?' I hear her, but I can do nothing. My throat closes each time I open my mouth. Words I intend to give will not come. I form them in my mind, and go to form them on lips. But they vanish before I can say them. Her sobs tear at my heart. I want to comfort her, but she dances away from me still. Her crying pulls tears from my own eyes. Her sobs causes an ache to rise in my chest. A fiery beast that once roared in anger as she danced away now cries along with her. I reach out, trying to grasp her hand, but she pulls away from me, and cries still.

'Why me?' she cries. 'I tried so hard! Why did you have to die before I found out? I tried so hard…'

I want to comfort her, but I don't know why she's crying, and my lips are glued together. They refuse to open. So instead, I crawl toward her, still on my knees, and try to touch her arm. But she dances still, and screams at me 'No!' I am confused, what did I do? Her light grows bright, so bright I must shield my eyes, and she falls to the ground beside me. I extend a hand, to grasp hers. She just sits there, staring at my hand. We sit there, unmoving, I don't know how long.

...HGHGHGHG...

I stared into the dregs of my hot chocolate. They were bitter, and the spices had gathered in them, making them undrinkable. I didn't care; I drank them anyway. They tasted the way I felt: cold, confused, and bitter. The memory of my name forming in the smoke tore at me. I couldn't understand; I couldn't. Why did it have to be me? I had tried so hard to convince myself that I was not going to be his match; that I was an average soul, with seven matches, that we were just friends. I had tried so hard to get over him, and now I was his soul mate. Why?

"Miss, is there anything else Lemon can do for you?" I glanced up, the house elf was standing

there, wringing her hands and looking concerned.

"No thank you," I whispered. "Not unless you can undo today."

"Lemon is afraid that Lemon cannot do that, Miss. Is you feeling upset?"

"Yeah."

"It is not Lemon's place, but… what about?"

"My best friend is dead, and I'm his soul mate," I muttered.

"Lemon is understanding," the old house elf sighed. "Lemon is once being in love."

"House elves fall in love?" I asked.

"Well, of course," Lemon scoffed. "How is you thinking there is being so many of us?"

"I don't know, I never thought about it."

"Humph," Lemon said irritably. She sat down beside me, and tugged her toga like tea towel

farther down her knees. "Youngsters. You is never thinking about such things."

I looked in surprise at the old elf. She seemed more relaxed than any of the others.

"Tell Lemon about your problem."

"Okay, well," I sighed, "you know who Harry Potter is."

"Of course."

"Well, he's dead."

"I is knowing."

"Before he died, he was one of my best friends. After he died, I found out that I'm his soul

match."

"Fidelis Animas?"

"How do you know?"

"Miss, Lemon is being here for many years. Lemon is being the counsel of many students.

Lucius Malfoy is discovering the idea of Fidelis Anima many years ago, he is telling Lemon about

it then. You is Potter's soul match."

"Yeah."

"And he is dead?"

"Exactly."

"That is sad. Don't you be going and killing yourself, now. He'd be wanting you to live."

"That's not it. Malfoy is going to bring him back."

"Lemon is understanding," the elf said.

"You do?"

"Yes. You is having a piece of soul in you that is belonging to Harry, and Harry is having a piece

of your soul. You be going to pull him back."

"Malfoy really explained it to you, then."

"He is being very excited about it. Is you excited to be bringing back your soul match?"

"Yes! Of course I am," I said, "I just… I don't know, I spent so long trying to just be his friend…"

"Tell Lemon," the old elf said. "What is you confused about?"

"Everything," I groaned. "I used to have the silliest crush on him," I said, the corners of my mouth turning up in a small smile. "I loved to hear about the great Harry Potter when I was a kid. And then I met him, and he's this awkward little boy and nothing like what I expected him to be. He was still cute, though. I've been trying so hard to get over him! And now, I don't know what to think. If we're soul matches, we're the worst pairing ever. He thinks of me as 'Ron's little sister', always has," I grumbled.

"Lemon is loving someone who isn't loving her back for a while," Lemon said. "Lemon is thinking he never see her for real. But Lemon is being wrong, and so is you. Lemon is sure he love you back soon."

"He's dead," I said. "How's he supposed to love me if he's dead?"

"The Waiting Realm, Lemon is thinking, can let him. Yes?"

"I don't know!" I groaned. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Lemon is not knowing," the old elf sighed. "What is you supposed to be doing when your heart is breaking?"

"I thought I was over him," I mumbled, more to myself. "I'm dating a great guy, he's sweet, he's kind; I thought I was over Harry! Why can't life just be simple?"

"Life is never being fair," Lemon said. "Life is never being simple. Lemon is not knowing why."

I looked at her, sadness in my eyes. "Harry's dead," I whispered. "I'm his soul match. I don't know whether I'm happy or sad or angry! And he's dead," my voice cracked, and I felt something warm and wet on my cheek. "What if it doesn't work?" I said, reaching up to brush aside the tear. "What if he stays dead? What do I do?"

"Lemon is not knowing."

I stood up, handing Lemon the empty mug. "I have to go," I whispered. "Malfoy will probably want to talk to me about bringing Harry back." I turned away, to go.

"You is coming back," Lemon said. "Whenever you is needing to talk, you is coming back to old Lemon, all right?"

"Yeah," I said, glancing back. "Sure." I turned away again, and my feet carried me swiftly from the kitchens. Outside, the corridors were still empty. I'd have to ask Dumbledore where everyone had gone.

As I walked back to Gryffindor tower, my thoughts were in turmoil. My main thought was: Why did I have to find out that Harry and I were destined for each other after he died?

Back on the seventh floor, the Fat Lady swung open as I approached, looking at me with such a sorrowful look in her eyes. I whispered my thanks, and stepped through the portrait hole. Draco was still sitting by the fire. He looked up as I passed.

"Feeling better, weasel?" he sneered. I drew my wand.

"Back off, Malfoy," I snapped.

"Touchy," he said. "Who was it?"

"That's none of your business," I growled. "Leave me alone if you know what's good for you."

"Fine," he drawled. "Father's waiting for you."

"I know," I muttered, sticking my wand back in my pocket. I turned to the stairs, and climbed them in silence. Back in Harry's dormitory, Malfoy and Dumbledore were talking in low tones, and Alasdair was sitting on Harry's trunk. I hesitated in the doorway, feeling a little embarrassed.

"Ah, Weasley," Malfoy was the first to notice me.

"I'm sorry I ran out like that," I mumbled.

"No matter, no matter," Malfoy said. "We need to get down to business."

He walked over to me, holding the book in his outstretched hands.

"The Returning spell is extremely complex, and, as I have said before, Potter's match, you, must perform it."

"What will it take?" I asked.

"There are four parts to the spell, each doubling in difficulty with each part. Parts One through Three are more like tests than spells, the magic is to gage your worth and your desperation. It seems to me as though the magic has a sentient overseer, almost," Malfoy said, now flicking through the pages of the book. "Part one demands you prove your worth, part three to prove the worth of your match. Part two's design, I believe, is to prove your 'longing' for your match to return. Again, it's as though there is someone waiting for you to pass each of these tests-"

"Tests?" I repeated. "You want me to prove I want Harry back?"

"To bring him back, yes, you must pass all three tests," said Malfoy, glancing up at me. "At the end of each test, the book says you will be given a piece of the magic, and after passing the third test, you will have all three pieces of the fourth part of the spell."

"Doesn't the book say how to bring him back?" I asked.

Malfoy shook his head. "Without the key pieces from the tests, the spell is useless."

I bit my lip, my eyes wandering without permission to the bed where Harry's body lay.

"What do I have to do?" I asked; my voice soft.

Malfoy held out the book. I took it from him, my hands shook.

"The first test, as I said, calls for you to prove your worth. To start it, it requires a specific situation: The time must be right; the place must be exactly as the book says, but other than that, I have no way to prepare you. I do not even know what will happen."

I looked up at him, startled. "We don't know what will happen?"

"I am afraid so."

I looked back to the book. "This is really complex," I muttered, "Half of this isn't even English!"

"That's the part where it explains the test," Malfoy said, "what it supposed to determine, what it will do, et cetera."

"Will it turn to English like the song spell?"

"I doubt it," Malfoy said with a slight smile.

I sighed, and turned back to the book. I frowned. "Malfoy, this says we have to be at Stonehenge…"

"Yes, that is the required place for this test."

"_This_ test?" I repeated. "There a separate locations for each test?"

"Well, yes," he said. "Different times as well."

I glanced back to the book. "We have to brew another potion?"

"For tests two and three, yes," he said.

"How do we prove Harry's worthy of returning?" I asked.

"We will not know unless you pass the first two tests."

I sighed, and raised a hand to rub my eyes.

"Can we do it tomorrow?" I asked softly. Malfoy glanced at his watch, and nodded.

"We will leave then," he said. "Professor, I take my leave. I suggest you and your nephew do the same."

He strode across the room, and opened the door. He looked back to Dumbledore. Professor Dumbledore raised a finger, his eyes on me.

"Lucius, Alasdair, if I might have a moment alone with Miss Weasley," he said. Malfoy shrugged, and left. Alasdair stood hesitantly, but after a look from Dumbledore, he turned on his heel and followed Malfoy out.

"What is it, Professor?" I said.

"I would like to continue our conversation from earlier," he said.

I sighed. "Professor, I'm very tired, and today has been really taxing. I just want to get some sleep."

"I'm afraid it cannot wait," he said.

I exhaled slowly, crossed the room to Harry's old bed, and sat down upon it. "What?"

"While you were gone," Dumbledore started, "I began reading that book. It spoke of many things in addition to the Returning Spell, and the Finding Potion. One of the things it spoke of was the connection between matches."

"And?"

"A Fidelis Anima is connected mind and soul with his match, and when one dies, a part of the other goes with them."

"I already know that, Professor," I whispered, more to myself. Ever since Harry's death, I had felt empty, confused and cold inside. All that had changed in the past few hours was that I now knew why.

"It is the same if one leaves," he continued. "Yesterday, if Tom Riddle had succeeded in charming you over to his side, though I doubt it, and Harry not died, he would be in the same state you are now."

"I still don't see your point."

"I believe Lord Voldemort did not intend to kill Harry during the attack, I believe his intention was to break him. By removing you from Harry's side, he would have sent Harry into a spiral of depression and he would have lost much of his will. He would be just as confused and upset as you are now."

"How is that supposed to help me?" I muttered. "Harry's still dead."

"I believe Lord Voldemort resurrected one of his Horcruxes purely to change your allegiance to him, so as to break Harry's will."

"So what?" I snapped. "That doesn't change anything! Harry's still dead, and we still don't know how Tom came back!"

Professor Dumbledore pursed his lips, and sighed. "We do not know anything for certain, but I do have a theory."

"What?" I said, drawing my legs up to my chest.

"When you gained possession of Tom Riddle's diary, you poured your entire essence into that diary, your very soul, and the diary started pouring itself into you. By the time you were taken into the Chamber, and young Mr. Potter came to rescue you, the piece of soul in that diary was very strong, to the point that it came out of the diary, and was almost solid. I believe that Lord Voldemort used that same process to pull a piece of his soul out of one of his Horcruxes, to create a second him."

"He would have had to suck the life out of someone," I muttered. "But then, when has he ever cared about anyone else?"

"Yes, that is true," Dumbledore said. "Lord Voldemort has never held the life of other beings in high regard."

My lips parted in a yawn. Professor Dumbledore smiled slightly, and backed away. "I shall take that as my cue to leave. I wish you a good night's rest, Miss Weasley." He turned, and walked to the door. At the door, he turned back, gave a little wave, and left, shutting the door behind him. I glanced around. I was alone now, all alone but for the body; all that was left of my best friend. I squeezed my eyes shut, and lay back on the bed. It still smelled like him, like broom polish and the all-spice cologne I gave him for his birthday and something else distinctly masculine. I curled up on my side, hugging his pillow to my chest, inhaling the scent that for so long, I associated with safety and freedom.

I closed my eyes, and fell into sleep's dark clutches.

...HGHGHGHG...

Before, there was nothing but white around me, but now it is dark, like the night sky. Her light pulses a deep purple now, shot with streaks of dark red and streams of gold. She's lying on the ground, and she's sleeping, but crying as well. I am on my knees again. I want to go to her, but my body refuses to obey. She doesn't sob as she did before, but sniffles and shakes silently. I can hear her voice, soft and melancholic; she whispers in her sleep.

'Why did you have to go?' she says. 'Why did you have to be mine after you died? How am I supposed to prove you're worthy if you're dead? I want you here. Why aren't you here?'

It is as if I am waiting for her to say this. I fall forward, so I am on my hands and knees. I crawl forward, towards her, and as I do, her whispers grow louder, and more frantic.

'Where are you? Why aren't you here? I need you with me. I'm scared… I don't understand!'

I am by her side now. She's shaking, her body racked with silent sobs. I reach out a hand, and touch her shoulder. Ever other time I tried to touch her, she pushed me away, but now she reaches out to me, and I pull her up off the ground, into my arms. Her crying halts and she lies still in my arms. I hold her tight to me, trying to find my voice. I want to say something to her, to comfort her, but I will have to settle for just being there, because no words come to my tongue. I cannot think of anything, so I just hold her, and she clings to me for dear life.

...HGHGHGHG...

_I'm lying on cold ground. My eyes fly open, and my heart starts to pound. I sit up slowly, looking around in fear. It can't be, no, but it is. I'm in the Chamber of Secrets again. Water flows all around me, behind me, the sixty foot statue of Salazar Slytherin looks down on me with cold indifference. I hurry to my feet, tensed and ready to run. _

_"There is no point, Weasley." His voice sends shivers up my spin. I turn slowly around, and my hands fly to my mouth. Tom stands before me, his lips curled in a cruel smirk, holding the end of a rope in one hand. The rest of the rope is thrown up in the air, hooked around a carved stone snake, and it dangles ten feet off the ground, its end knotted around the throat of a boy. A chair lies on its side on the ground, beneath his feet, which are a few feet up off the ground his face is colorless, his black hair setting a stark contrast._

_Harry._

_I run forward, reaching up to pull him down, and Tom grabs my arm. His sneer grows wider, and he hisses in my ear, "You strung the rope, Weasley. You helped him onto the chair, and you knocked it over. At least, you caused him to do so. I'm proud of you."_

_I wrench my arm away from him, starring up at Harry, who revolves slowly in the air. His eyes are closed; he looks peaceful, despite the rope around his neck. _

_What did I do?_

_Tom seems to hear my thoughts, for he smiles wider and grips my arm again. "I charmed you so well, Ginevra Weasley, you came running to my side when I called you. You broke that poor boy's heart," he grins at me, and he puts an arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer to him. "You're a good girl, Ginevra, and now my enemy is dead. And it's all thanks to you."_

_I jerk away from Tom, and run to where Harry dangles over the ground. I stand up the chair, climb on top of it, and reach up to loosen the rope around his neck. My fingers brush against his skin. It is cold, clammy, dead._

_The chair breaks beneath me, and I fall. The ground vanishes, and I tumble through dark nothingness. I open my mouth to scream, but no air passes my lips. The rope holding Harry off the ground snaps, and he falls with me. Tom hovers above our falling bodies, laughing cruelly. I reach through the rushing air to grab Harry's hand, and suddenly, he's alive. He flails through the air, and screams. I grab his hand, and he looks at me. His eyes are full of fear, but as I lock my gaze on his, it turns to hurt. _

_Then we are on solid ground again. I can see nothing around us, it's all white. I'm sitting on the ground, and he's on his knees. He's still reaching for me. I for him, and we brush fingers. Then I am being pulled away from him, I yell, I strain to grab his hand, but then I'm surrounded by blackness, and he's gone. My hands and arms tremble as I stand up, and my legs shake uncontrollably. I feel hot tears well up in my eyes, and I blink them away quickly. There is nothing in this black expanse but me, and it isn't the darkness that makes my heart speed up, but the unknown. What is out there?_

_I turn slowly on the spot, trying to find something in the blackness. Far away, to my left I see a spark. A glimmer of something white. I take off towards it, pumping my arms, trying to reach it before it goes out. I am almost upon it. I reach out a hand, groping for the flickering white light, and it goes out. I am alone in the black oblivion again. I spin on the spot, my heart pounding, searching my surroundings for something, anything. _

_There is nothing._

_I bring my hand up over my mouth, stifling a sob. Is this all that's left in me now? Empty darkness that fills my dreams and fears? I'd take the nightmare's over this, over this barren expanse. My hands tremble over my mouth, blocking any sound from escaping my lips. Why this, why bleakness and cold confusion? Why fear and pain, why couldn't I be a normal teenage girl and fear nothing worse than exams and loosing the next Quidditch match? Why? Where was my 'knight in shining armor' when I needed him?_

_Oh, that's right, I think. He's dead._

_I sink to my knees and push my hands up over my face into my hair, pulling at my locks. I open my mouth and let out a loud, long scream of frustration and grief._

_Then, it happens again. Right beside me, there is a glimmer of white light once more. I jump to my feet, startled, as I hear a voice through the white flash._

_"Ginny!" they call. "Ginny, wake up!"_

I opened my eyes to bright sunlight, and blinked.

"Ginny," Hermione stood at my bedside, shaking my shoulder. "Come on, Malfoy says we can do the first test today!"


	7. Chapter 7 A Deadly Dance

**Note: **I had quite a few vocal reviews stating that I should use the proper spelling, as they called it, for Ginevra. I've gone through the story and changed it to please my readers. I just wanted to say one other thing and I'll let you go: "What is in a name?" "A rose by any other name would smell as sweet." Whether you like it as Ginerva or Ginevra, it is still a spelling variation and it does not change the character.

**Chapter Seven**

**A Deadly Dance**

Hermione led me through the corridors, after I had hastily dressed, down to the entrance hall. Malfoy was waiting by the doors with Draco, who had the heavy sackcloth sack slung over his shoulder. Malfoy was tapping his feet and checking his watch impatiently as we approached.

"Good, we must hurry," he said, waving us forward. "If we don't get to Stonehenge on time, we will have to wait a very long time for this window to open again."

"What window?" I asked, shoving my arm through the sleeve of a jacket.

"Halloween is the time where we are most close to the following realms, and there is a certain time window we must exploit to achieve our goals."

"Seriously?" I muttered. "Halloween?"

Malfoy pursed his to me in annoyance. "I do not have the patience for petty mutterings this morn. Say it aloud or don't say it at all."

"Fine," I said, glancing at Hermione. "Is anyone else coming besides Hermione and the ferret?"

Draco glared at me, but Lucius held up a hand to stop him from replying. "Yes, the Headmaster and his nephew will be here soon, and then we may go."

I nodded, rubbing sleep out of my eyes. I glanced around and my eye was caught on someone standing by the stairs, and I blinked. I rubbed my eyes once more, fixing my eyes at a point just past the stairs. He was gone.

"What?" Hermione whispered in my ear. I glanced at her.

"Nothing- I just thought I saw something. It's nothing," I lied, looking down to my feet. Just then, Professor Dumbledore exited the Great Hall, followed by Alasdair, who held a muffin in one hand. They crossed over to us, Dumbledore smiling serenely and Alasdair expressionless.

"Good," Malfoy said, clapping his hands together. "Let us depart." He turned on his heel, and pulled open one of the heavy oak doors. He led the way out, Draco leaning to one side to compensate for the heavy sack, Dumbledore still smiling, and me hugging myself to keep the cold chill that had seeped inside with the open doors out.

Alasdair nudged my elbow, I looked to him. He held out the muffin. "Did Malfoy gave you a chance to eat?"

"No, he didn't," I said, taking the muffin from him, forcing a smile to curl my lips. "Thank you." Alasdair smiled stiffly, and snapped his eyes ahead, to the gates, looming through the fog. I turned my attention to the gates as well, picking off a bit of the muffin and placing it in my mouth. Banana nut, not my very favorite, but in the top ten of most delicious muffins. Thoughtful of him to get me one.

Dumbledore pulled his wand and tapped the heavily padlocked gates with it. The chains receded, clinking moodily, and the gates swung open with creaks and squeaks of protest. We passed through them, and I edged closer to Hermione. The cold chill had grown more intense, more unnatural.

"Will we be passing through the village?" Hermione asked.

Malfoy shook his head, "No, the Dark Lord still has his forces there, we will be travelling through forest mostly until we get past Hogwarts enchantments so we can Disapparate."

Hermione glanced at me, with a small smile. We wouldn't be passing through the village, there was the silver lining.

Malfoy stepped off the path to Hogsmeade, Dumbledore and Alasdair following without hesitation. I glanced at Hermione again, and she nodded. I put my arm through hers, she smiled again, and we followed behind Draco.

We walked for about fifteen minutes before a sudden thought occurred to me.

"Does my mother know where I am?" I asked Hermione in low tones.

"Err," she said. "She might. I don't know if Malfoy told her or not."

I let out a groan. "She's going to be mad as hell when we get back."

"Remember, it's Malfoy's fault if he didn't tell her," Hermione said. I chuckled.

I pushed this out of my mind as the discussed Malfoy stopped ahead of us.

"This is where we Disapparate," he said, turning back. "I do not think it is wise to have any one of us Side-Along Apparate with more than one, so we should divide it up. I will take my son, Professor; I will leave you and your nephew to choose."

Draco grumbled under his breath, and grabbed his father's arm. Professor Dumbledore held out his left arm to Hermione with a soft smile. She let go of my arm, and took his. Alasdair gave Dumbledore an annoyed look, and extended his hand.

"I do better holding hands when Apparating than linking arms," he said. "Sorry."

I shook my head, taking his hand. "It doesn't matter."

Alasdair let out a huff, and nodded to Dumbledore, who smiled, and turned on the spot. With a sharp CRACK, he and Hermione were gone. Lucius twisted where he stood, and he and Draco too were gone. Alasdair gripped my hand tightly, closed his eyes, and spun around.

It was as if I was being pulled through a very tight pipe. My body squished together, my insides squashed. The breath was knocked out of me, I struggled to inhale, but the pipe contracted, squeezing me harder and harder, until I thought I would be like taffy stretched the point of breaking once it was over, and then the piping was gone, and I stood on a hillside, surrounded by rocks. I dropped Alasdair's hand, and stepped back from him. Unlike Hogwarts, the surrounding land was not shrouded in mist, but bright with the approaching dawn, ready to chase away the stars that still light up the sky. On the opposite horizon, the moon cringed away from the growing light, preparing to hide behind the mountains shoulders.

Hermione sat on the ground a few feet from me, looking dizzy and a little green. Malfoy and Malfoy stood off to the left, Malfoy Senior flicking through his book and Malfoy Junior sitting with his back against a standing rock, eyes closed and mouth shut tight. My legs felt like jelly, and I stumbled over to where Hermione was sitting and plopped down beside her.

"I feel like I'm going to hurl," Hermione mumbled, eyes closed.

"I can't breathe," I wheezed. "Beat that."

Hermione let out a shaky laugh, and hastily covered her mouth with a grimace. I leaned up against a stone block behind us, glancing around.

"This is Stonehenge?" I asked.

"Yes," Malfoy said, not looking up. "We must hurry, you need to be in place for the test by the time the sun clears the mountains."

I nodded, and pushed myself to my feet. "What do we do then?"

"You must lie down in the midst of the stone," Malfoy ordered. "Draco, show her exactly where."

Draco opened one eye blearily, gave his father a dirty look, and heaved himself off the ground. He crossed the green to where I stood, and passed me without a word. I turned, and followed him, weaving through the rocks and tall upright stones.

"Kinda makes you wonder why this stuff is here," I said. Draco grunted. I looked to the ground, feeling awkward. Malfoy stopped by a lower, flat-topped stone, and slapped its surface.

"Have a nice nap," he said, and he left. I glanced over my shoulder, and then back to the long, low rock. I sighed, and clambered on top of it.

"Very good, Weasley!" Malfoy called from the edge of the ring of stones. "Now lie down with your head to the east, I'll be there in just a moment to start the test."

"Okay," I called back, and I lay down on my back, staring up into the brightening sky. As I was told, I lay with the crown of my head facing the sun, inching up past the mountains, and my feet at the moon's hiding place. As I stared up into the sky, the stars slowly retreated from the gold and pink streaked sky. I lay in silence, anxiously glancing around and the sun stepped off the mountains and into the sky. Where was Malfoy, wasn't he supposed to do something to start the test? I propped myself up onto my elbows, and craned my neck to see the rest of the group. They all stood, huddled in the shadows of the largest of the standing stones, talking amongst themselves.

"Hey!" I called, frowning. Malfoy glanced up at me and pressed a finger to his lips. I cocked my head, a question formed on my lips, but then, Dumbledore drew his wand, and held it up into the sky. A ball of golden light shot from it and flew up into the sky, lazily tracing its way over the ring of stones, and it stopped above me, pulsing warmly. I looked back to the group. Alasdair had his wand in the air now, and from the tip burst a soft lilac blue ball of light. Like the golden light, it flew through the sky to rest above my body. I turned back, frowning. Malfoy raised his wand into the air as well, and shot a ball of summer grass green light into the air. It joined the gold and blue light, and the three hovered over me, slowly turning in the air, spinning like a baby's mobile.

"Close your eyes," Malfoy called, "lay still, and keep your eyes closed. The spell will take it from there."

I let out another sigh, and lay back down. I let my eyes flutter shut, suddenly feeling weary. The imprint of the balls of light on my retinas glowed against my lids, mixing, swirling, twisting. The glow of the sun stained the inside of my eyelids red and warm.

Malfoy's voice drifted to my ears, and for some reason, my brain refused to translate the words into anything sensible. I fought to open my eyes, but they stubbornly remained closed.

A voice whispered into my ear: "Sweet dreams," and I blacked out.

...HGHGHGHG...

I awoke to a brilliant sky, streaked with reds, golds, pink and purple. I sat up slowly, looking around. I was alone, surrounded by the tall standing stones.

"Hello?" I tentatively called. No answer. I slipped off the stone I had been laying on, and gingerly stepped forward, looking around. If this was the test, then what was I supposed to do?

Just as this thought entered my mind, a flutter of movement caught my eye. I turned, reaching for my wand, scanning the area for the source of movement.

"Don't bother with your stick."

I whipped around, shoving my hand into my pocket to draw my wand. But, my wand was gone! I glanced down, frowning. My pocket was empty. I checked my other pockets, panic beginning to creep into my heart.

"I told you, do not bother with your pathetic stick," the voice called out to me again. I looked up, eyes darting around, searching for the speaker.

"Show yourself," I called, trying to keep my voice from betraying my fear.

"Ah, commanding, in control. I like it. The last one who came here was a sniveling wreck."

"Yeah?" I answered, leaning to the left, trying to see past a broad stone. "Well, I'm not one for sniveling."

"Very good," the voice, I decided it belonged to a woman, chuckled. "You are stronger than most I see. Perhaps it is because the others were honest, and you are not."

This catches me off-guard. "I'm dishonest?" I said, frowning.

"Oh, yes, very much so," the voice replies. It drifts away from the broad stone, moving to the right. "Not to others, of course, but to yourself. To yourself, you have a heart of stone and a tongue that minds not the constant deception. Tut, tut; I thought you would know better."

"What do you mean, I lie to myself?" I said, and a little bit of panic left me, to be replaced by dread. If I was dishonest to myself, that might make my 'tester' deem me unworthy to pull back Harry.

"Do not worry; lying to thyself is not as drastic as lying to others. Oh, silly me, I said 'thy' again."

"Who are you?" I asked, now beginning to feel the effects of annoyance. "And why is my wand gone?"

"I can't answer your first question, but as for the second, I took it!" the voice called out in a sing-song tone. "It is useless in this realm, but I'll give it back when you leave."

"Realm?" I repeated. "Where am I then?"

"Why, the Realm of Dreams, of course!"

"Dreams?" I said, raising an eyebrow. "You're joking, right?"

"I'm afraid I'm not," the voice let out a little giggle. "Welcome to the world of broken promises, crushed dreams, and everyone's worst nightmares. To pass your test, you must face the third. Seven horrible nightmares, each one more terrible than the last, the very last one to be your own!"

"What?" I said, frowning. "Whose nightmares to I have to go through?"

"You were accompanied by five others, yes?"

"Yes," I said, now feeling a little alarmed.

"What are their names?"

"Er, Albus Dumbledore, Hermione Granger, Alasdair Dumbledore, Lucius Malfoy, and Draco Malfoy," I said. "Why?"

"You will go through their worst nightmares!"

"I what?" I gasped.

"You'll go through their worst nightmares, then through a mystery person's, then your own. Are you ready?"

"Wait, now?" I said, my eyes widening in fear.

"Well, yes, and, naturally, I will not tell you whose nightmare it is, and at the end, I want you to tell me who dreamed each nightmare. Now, you shall begin."

"But-"

"No buts!" cried the voice cheerfully, "prepare yourself, and sweet dreams."

The sun-streaked sky above me darkened to a deep inky black. The tall stones stretched into the sky, their stone hue changing to bark and leaves. The ground hardened, the leaves and branches above me linked together, growing at a super-fast rate, blocking out all light.

I spun around on the spot, scanning my new surroundings, as more fear ebbed into my heart. An owl hooted somewhere close by, crickets chirped, and in the distance, I heard a howl.

My heartbeat was loud in my ears as I stepped backward, away from the howls. I glanced up, and through the leaves, I saw a silver glimmer. A larger gap appeared, and my heart stopped.

The moon shone bright white in the sky, yet it was menacing and set my spine crawling. It was full.

A shudder passed through me as another howl sounded, this time closer.

I turned around, and ran. I heard crashes and thuds behind me. Barks and snarls reached my ears, and I pumped my arms as I ran. I leaped over a fallen tree, adrenaline coursing through my veins, pushing oxygen and blood to my muscles. Pounding paws sounded behind me, and I chanced a glance over my shoulder. A dark shape was chasing me, a shape that had just a hint of human in its wolf body. Fear filled my mind, and I urged my legs to carry me faster over the uneven ground.

Ahead of me, the dirt of the path cracked with tree roots, bulging up, threatening to send me sprawling. A root burst from the ground, snaking across the path. More roots burst up through the ground, and the dirt was falling away from the middle of the path, turning to a wide, gaping mouth, the roots becoming gnashing teeth, ready to swallow me whole.

I skidded to a halt, grabbing a low hanging branch to steady myself. The wood beneath my fingers turned squishy, and scaly. It became a snake. I gasped, and flung it away from me, backing up. Behind me, the werewolf stopped, swishing its tail, with its yellow fangs bared.

_"To pass your test, you must face seven terrible nightmares,"_ the voice had said. I gulped. The wolf stepped forward, its huge paws squishing through the mud. I edged backward, my mind moving frantically. How was I supposed to face a werewolf wanting to eat me?

The wolf barked, ending in a snarl. I stumbled over a tree root and fell to the ground. The snake above me hissed and let out its long fangs, glistening with poison. Its tail rattled, and it slid off the branch, and thudded to the ground. I hastily tried to push myself up, but I found my hands and legs bound to the ground by creepers and roots. I struggled against them, letting a scream of terror rip itself from my throat. The wolf let out a barking laugh, its eyes gleamed with blood lust, and it sprang forward. I ripped an arm away from the vines and creepers, raising it up to protect my face. The wolf's weight knocked me back, pinning me to the ground. Its jaw dripped with salvia, splattering onto my clothes. I shut my eyes, and waited for the bite. Its rancid breath warmed my skin, I felt the teeth grip my arm, and it was gone.

I peeked through my lashes. The wolf was gone. So were the creepers and the snake. Trembling, I pushed myself up off the ground, my eyes darting around. I now stood in the middle of a paved road, lined with suburban Muggle houses. The sky was a dark blue, and all up and down the street, children dressed in various costumes ran screaming and laughing, bags dangling from their arms. Adults walked up and down the street as well, some in costume, many in plain Muggle clothes. The majority of the houses were decorated with bed-sheet style ghosts and little plastic graves.

Halloween.

I let my mouth curve in a smile. I thought this was supposed to be a nightmare. What was scary about a bunch of little kids in costumes?

One of the little ones ran towards me, laughing. She collided with me, and her laughter ceased immediately. Her smile fell into a look of fear. Her mouth opened wide in a scream, and she turned on her heel and ran from me. I frowned, confused. I glanced down at myself, and found nothing odd. The children around me stopped running around, and many clung to their parents.

"You're not welcome here," called one man.

"We've done nothing wrong," a middle aged woman called out, her eyes stretched wide with fear. "Leave us alone!"

"What?" I said. "What's the matter?"

"Begone, witch!" yelled an elderly man in a black suit. There was a strip of white in his collar. He advanced towards me, holding a withered hand out to me, his face full of anger and fear. "There shall be no witchcraft committed this night! Begone from this place!"

"I don't understand, how do you know I'm a witch?" I said. I glanced back down at my body, was I wearing a sign or something?

No, but I was wearing robes, and I held a wand in my hand. Not my wand, but a wand nonetheless.

"Go!" hollered the man. "We won't allow you to stay!"

"Kill it!" someone shouted. "It destroyed my crops!"

"It brought bad luck on our town!" someone else screamed.

"Hide the children," a woman shouted. I stared around, open mouthed. What was the matter with these people? Most of the women in the crowd gathered up the children, and they fled down the street to their houses, leaving me alone with the angry mob.

"Burn her!" another man shouted, stepping forward. "Send her back to hell!"

"Burn me?" I gasped. "But I didn't do anything to you! I'm a good witch!"

"There is no such thing as a good witch," the old man said, his voice shaking with anger. "You have poisoned the minds of our children and destroyed our town!"

"Make her pay!"

"Send her back to hell!"

"No!" I called. "I, uh, if you kill me, your whole town will be cursed!"

"She's lying," someone yelled, but they didn't sound so sure.

"No, I'm not," I said. "If you kill me, I'll- I'll come back as a ghost and- err, snatch up your sons and daughters and turn them away from you!"

"Then we shall cast your mangled soul in the deepest pits of hell," cried the old man. "You shall not come back to haunt us!"

"I've got firewood!" a man yelled.

"I've got rope and a wood post!" yelled another.

"You don't understand," I said. "You can't kill me; I'm just trying to save someone I love!"

"You have no heart," the old man said. "You sold your soul and blackened your heart when you took up the devil's art!"

"No, no, it's not like that!" I said, backing away. "I'm a good person, I am; I'm just trying to bring back Harry!"

"Necromancer!" the old man gasped. "The most evil of all the devil's arts!"

"No, no, he's not all the way dead," I said. "I've got a part of his soul in me, and I'm going to pull him back to me. I'm just like you; don't' kill me!"

The old man waved a hand to the rest of the townsfolk. A big burly man lumbered forward with a coil of rope.

"Do we burn her to death or hang her?" he asked.

"Burn her," the old man said. "Her soul is unredeemable, black with her wizardry. We must send it to hell where it belongs."

The burly man stepped towards me, uncoiling his rope.

I decided at that point that I had wasted enough time talking. I turned, and ran.

I could hear the townsfolk chasing me. I lifted my skirts and turned down another street, with the mob of angry townsfolk on my heel. I raised my wand and sent an Impedimenta hex over my shoulder, and the townsfolk in front stopped as if hitting a block of ballistics gel. Others swerved around them, and I sent a blasting jinx at the road in front of them, blowing a hole in the pavement. I turned my attention forward, and gasped. A huge car was thundering down the street towards me, light blaring from its front. I turned to my left and jumped out of the way, into someone's yard.

"Freeze!" a man's voice yelled. I scrambled to my feet, panting. The car had stopped and its lights shone in my face. I squinted, looking around. I was surrounded. A man stood to my left with a long skinny metal thing in his hands, its end pointed at my chest.

"It's loaded," the man warned. "Take one step and I'll fire."

"Fire what?" I said.

"My gun," he said, frowning.

"Err, okay," I said. "If you fire that at me, will it hurt?"

"Of course it will," he said. "What planet are you from?"

"England?" I said, smiling hesitantly in attempt to defuse the townsfolks' anger. "Look, if you'll just let me go, I'll leave and never come back, okay?"

"No!" the old man hobbled forward. "You must be punished for your crimes! Smith, tie her up!"

The burly man with the rope lumbered forward. The man with the gun edged forward, his eyes darting between me and the man with the rope. The burly man snatched my wand out of my hand, and, before I could do anything to stop him, snapped it in two. I clapped a hand over my mouth, feeling desperation enter my heart. Now I was weaponless.

The man cast the fragments of my wand down and they hit the ground with two dull _plunks_. He grabbed my arm, twisted me around, and bound my hands behind me, the rope tight, chafing my skin.

"Good," the old man said. "Take her to the village green, Smith."

The man grabbed my upper arm, and tugged me away from the yard and the man with the gun, down the street. There was a long stretch of grass ahead of us, and the man tugged me to the middle of the grassy area, the mob following.

There were already men there, gathered around a pile of wood and a post in the very middle. The man jerked me forward, towards the wood post, while the men around us laughed.

A single tear leaked from my eye. Was this how I would die? In a dream that didn't belong to me, trying to prove myself worthy and trying to bring back Harry?

The man heaved me onto the pile, and undid the ropes on my wrists, only to push me against the post and retie them. I did not struggle. I gave up. I was going to die, and there was nothing I could do.

The man wrapped ropes around my knees and shoulders, binding me to the post. He backed away, off the pile of wood, and the old man stepped forward, holding a lit torch. The mob of villagers yelled in triumph, and the old man pushed the torch into the wood pile.

I watched the flame lick the bark of the wood, creeping towards my feet. Someone else shoved another torch in, and another Muggle dropped a lit match onto the wood inches from my feet. The hem of my robe caught fire, the flame leaping up my robes. The heat was unbearable, my legs felt like liquid, and had I not been tied to the post, I would have collapsed into the flames.

A single tongue of fire lapped at my hands. I let out a scream of pain as the flame climbed higher up my body, engulfing me completely. My hair caught fire, and the flames licked my face. I screamed again, my throat felt dry and raw, my lips cracked in the heat.

Now I understood why Muggles burned witches back in the medieval days. As I screamed in pain, the Muggle men around me laughed, and whooped in triumph. The flames consumed my robes hungrily, leaving my skin bare and unprotected. Flames caressed my skin in a deadly dance, leaving me burned and blistered. I screamed, begging for mercy, and my captors only laughed. I cried up to the sky, praying for rain, but the sky remained cloudless.

"And so you pay for your black magic!" the old man said. "You pay for the evil deeds you have done, and you reap the pain you have sowed!"

"Monsters!" I screamed. "Bastards! I didn't do anything to you!"

"You are a creature of evil," the old man snapped, "you are the monster, not us."

My hair burned bright against my eyes, I squeezed them shut, letting out another yell of pain. The fire stained my eyelids a deep red, the color of blood, while my own blood poured from the wounds brought by these monsters of men who had set me aflame.


	8. Chapter 9 The Graveyard Again

A/N: This chapter will sound very similar to Chapter 38 of Goblet of Fire, because I wanted to keep as close to the actual scene as possible. Also, when you're through here, you'll be all caught up with SIYE and I don't have the next chapter written just yet so no more three times weekly updates. I'll post the next one as soon as possible. Last thing and I'll let you go: this chapter is bloody and gory and so if you don't like violence, read at your own risk.

**Chapter Nine**

**The Graveyard Again**

My hands flew to my mouth in shock.

"What the hell?" I muttered through my hands. Lowering them, I looked around me. I stood in a graveyard, the sky above me was just moving on from twilight to night. Beside me, a boy crouched on the ground, by a glowing blue like a trophy. On my other side, a caldron, large enough for a grown man to bathe in, glinted dully in the light of the moon and a yew tree stood regal and dignified against the night. In the distance, the silhouette of a large mansion stood out against the dark sky.

"It's a Portkey," he said, turning to me. "Did anyone tell you the cup was a Portkey?"

"I- what?" I stammered. "Where are we?"

"I thought you knew," he said, standing. "Didn't you just say you've been here before?"

"No," I said. "No, I've never been-"

I heard a scraping sound, and turned. A door to our left was being pushed open, and someone was coming through.

"Wands out, then?" whispered the boy to my left. I nodded, and then remembered I didn't have one. I glanced around, and spotted a wand lying a few feet from me. I bent, and grabbed it. The moment my fingers grasped the handle, I felt warmth spread up my arm, not unlike the way if felt when I lifted my own wand for the first time, but there was something different about this warmth. I felt a sense of comfort spread through me, and for the first time since I had woken in the Realm of Dreams, I felt safe.

The figure across the graveyard stepped towards us. I saw it was a short, balding man, and that he was clutching something to his chest. The man glanced around, and his eyes found us.

"Who's there?" the boy beside me called. The little man started towards us; I backed away.

"We shouldn't be here," I whispered.

"You might be right, Potter," the boy beside me said.

I froze. Potter? Why was he calling me Potter? And then I remembered: this was Harry's nightmare. I glanced around, searching my surroundings for something to tell me where I was, when my eyes were caught by a tall gravestone, with a grim reaper type statue standing behind it. The name on the headstone read, in large letters, 'Thomas Riddle.'

My hand flew to my mouth. Graveyard, a trophy, a tombstone with the name of my worst nightmare. I stood in the graveyard where Harry had witnessed Lord Voldemort return.

As soon as I realized this, a voice hissed, "Kill the spare!" The little man drew a wand, pointed it at the boy beside me, and shouted, "Avada Kedavra!"

A jet of green light issued from the man's wand and hit the boy square in the chest. He fell back onto the ground; I gasped, and looked back over to the little man. His chin quivered, but he turned the wand on me.

"Expelliarmus!" My wand flew from my hand and through the air to the little man, who twirled his wand with a flourish, and ropes sprang from them to coil around me, binding me tightly.

I bit back a scream, and struggled against the ropes. I had to face Harry's fear. I had to live through his nightmare.

The little man drew closer, and set down the bundle by my feet. He turned to the caldron, waved his wand, and a fire sprang up beneath it. I fought harder against the ropes. My recent experience with fire still burned bright in the back of my mind. The caldron filled with what appeared to be water. He turned back to me, and I froze as moonlight lit up his face.

He had next to no hair. His eyes were small and watery, like a mouse's. His chin quivered as his eyes met mine, and he looked away quickly. Peter Pettigrew, also known as Wormtail, turned to the large headstone behind me, and raised his wand once more.

"Bone of the father," he started, his voice high pitched and shaky. "Unknowingly given." The headstone cracked and a stream of white powder rose into the air. "You will renew your son." Wormtail directed it with his wand, and it flew into the caldron, staining the water gray.

Wormtail pulled a knife from the inside of his robe. He held his trembling right arm over the caldron. His other hand shook as he raised the knife.

"Flesh of the servant…" he squeaked. "Willingly given..."

I gasped in horror as he brought the knife down, as it sliced into Wormtail's wrist, and dark red blood sprang from the wound. Wormtail let out a cry of pain, but gritted his teeth, and pressed the knife further into his skin. I tried my hardest to close my eyes, but I was frozen in fear as the knife struck bone. Wormtail hacked at his own wrist, and his hand finally detached from his arm, and fell into the caldron with a splash. Wormtail gasped in pain, tears welling up in his eyes, as he clutched his arm to his body.

"You will… re-revive your master," he sobbed as the water in the caldron turned black. Wormtail sank to the ground, holding his arm to his chest. I fought against the ropes. I knew what was coming next.

Wormtail's eyes sought mine. He rose to his feet slowly, gripping the knife with his remaining hand tightly.

"Blood of the enemy," he hissed through his teeth. "Unwillingly taken…" He grabbed one of my arms, and wrenched it from the ropes that bound it. I balled my hand into a fist and punched him as hard as I could, right on his bleeding stub of an arm.

Wormtail gasped in pain, and fell back. Blood dripped from my knuckles. I went to untie the ropes binding me, and Wormtail twirled his wand in the air. The ropes sprang to life, and grabbed my arm, pinning it to my side but leaving the underside of my arm bare. My fingers were crushed by the ropes. I bit my lip, hard. I tasted blood in my mouth. Wormtail approached me with his knife. I did my best to move away from him, hopping back from him, but the backs of my legs collided with something solid, and I fell over backward. I looked to see what tripped me, and bile rose in my throat as I saw the body of the boy laying under my legs. Wormtail flicked his wand, and I rose into the air and dropped down in front of the grim reaper statue. It creaked and its arms lurched forward, grabbing me in a cold, deadly embrace; the tip of its scythe pressed into my belly. Wormtail stepped forward, and pressed his knife into my arm. I bit down harder on my tongue as pain shot through my arm. I kept quiet, but hot tears cascaded down my cheeks.

This isn't real, I thought. It's a dream.

But it had been real for Harry. The tears came faster as my thoughts turned to him. I remember seeing him after the Third Task, and the long cut down his arm. I remembered asking him about it, and his dull voice saying that Wormtail had used his blood to revive Voldemort.

Wormtail pressed the knife deeper into my skin, and blood sprang from it. I looked away, but I felt the blood trickling down my arm. It left a warm, sticky trail.

"You will resurrect your foe," Wormtail hissed in my ear. He turned, and held the knife over the caldron. I blinked tears out of my eyes. He tapped the knife with a finger. A droplet of blood formed on the end of the knife. The droplet quivered as Wormtail shook it, and then, I watched as if in slow motion as it fell and hit the water with a gentle 'plop.'

"Quickly," a voice hissed from the bundle of cloth on the ground. "Do it now!"

Wormtail bent, and opened the bundle. I bit back a scream when I saw the thing inside. It resembled a baby in shape, but that was where the resemblance ended. Its skin was a blistered red in places, in others it was a deathly shade of gray. Wormtail awkwardly lifted it into his arms, and turned back to the caldron. Wormtail held out his arms, his handless one still dripping blood onto the ground, and let the thing fall into the caldron with a splash that made me flinch away.

'Let it drown,' a voice said pleadingly in my head. 'Let something go wrong. Please, let it have died.'

I glanced around, startled. Then, as the voice began to repeat its message, I recognized the voice. It was Harry's.

I closed my eyes and said a silent prayer, that wherever Harry was, he was not seeing this again. I heard a distinct slithering noise, and looked down. Fear constricted my heart as I saw the source: A gigantic snake was sliding through the grass at my feet, its scaly body rippling with the force its muscles were making to carry it to its destination. I drew my feet up, away from the beast as the fear pushed itself through me again.

My arm still dripped blood. My body began to ache with the confinement; the ropes chafed my skin. I ignored all the pain and begged silently whoever was in charge for this to let it end; to let it be done with.

I was not so lucky.

The caldron bubbled angrily, the surface stained white. The wind howled in my ear, sending my hair flying into my face to cut my vision into strips. Through my hair, I saw a hulking figure rise from the caldron, wrapped in a membrane like thing, a sack of goo and other disgusting liquids clung to the figure's ragged body. I closed my eyes as a wave of revulsion spread through me. The caldron seemed to burst into fire, leaving a bright red imprint on my retinas.

The membrane surrounding the thing dripped away, splashing onto the ground and making my stomach turn. The figure inside stretched its arms; it seemed to be glorying in its newfound existence. I shut my eyes and turned away, trying my best to prevent the vomit rising in my throat from spilling out over my lips. When I finally opened them, I discovered why people say that curiosity killed the cat. Curiosity nearly brought up the single muffin in my stomach as the last of the gelatinous goo dripped away from the figure, revealing the bare body of Lord Voldemort.

"Wormtail," his voice came out in a hiss from the newly formed lips, "robe me."

The whimpering rat crumpled at Voldemort's feet, holding out the bundle of robes with his remaining hand. Voldemort took it, and draped it around himself, tying it off at the waist with a single rope. I was given a fleeting image of a monk dressed in similar robes before Voldemort spoke again.

"My wand, Wormtail."

The quivering man drew his wand, and handed it over to Voldemort. The evil beast took it with a look of satisfaction and looked down at the man huddled at his feet.

"Master, please, you promised," Wormtail moaned from the ground.

"Hold out your arm," he said, almost lazily.

"Oh, Master, thank you, thank you, Master," Wormtail said, raising his stub of a right arm.

"The other arm, Wormtail!"

Wormtail's body visibly sagged. He raised his left arm, and Voldemort gripped his wrist. From my place, I could see the white marks Voldemort's fingers were making on Wormtail's wrist. Voldemort pressed the tip of his wand into Wormtail's forearm, and an image suddenly emblazoned itself onto the skin, that of a skull, with a snake curling out of its open jaws. Wormtail let out a gasp, and I had to guess that the image was burning him.

"We shall see who will be brave enough to return, and who will be foolish enough to stay away."

Voldemort stepped past Wormtail, and his eyes locked onto mine. Cold red eyes, with barely slits for pupils. Snake eyes.

"Ah, Harry," he said, as a cold but broad grin spread across his face. "I had almost forgotten you were here."

I bit my lip and closed my eyes to suppress the panic spreading through me with each second.

"You stand, Potter, upon the bones of my late father. A Muggle and a fool… much like your dear departed mother. But they both had their uses, did they not? Your mother died to save you as a child… I killed my father, and now look how useful he had proved himself in death."

Voldemort gave a cold laugh, and turned away from me. The giant snake I had seen earlier approached Voldemort, and coiled itself around one of Voldemort's ankles. Voldemort raised a skeleton like finger and pointed into the distance.

"You see that house up there, Potter? On the hillside? My father used to live in that house. My mother, a witch who lived here in this village, fell in love with him. But he abandoned her when he found out what she was… He didn't like magic, my father…

Voldemort began pacing up and down, continuing his rant.

"So he left her, left her and returned to his Muggle parents before I was even born, Potter, and she died giving birth to me, leaving me to be raised in a Muggle orphanage… but I vowed to find him, I revenged myself upon him, that fool who gave me his name… Tom Riddle."

My heart constricted in my chest once more. I had known Voldemort and Tom were the same person. But there had always been a part of me that refused to believe that my Tom, who had been kind to me in the beginning, could have ever become this monster. Now, I had proof.

"Listen to me, reliving family history," Voldemort scoffed, "why, I am growing quite sentimental." Voldemort looked around as suddenly, a series of pops and cracks split the air, and cloaked and masked wizards began walking slowly but steadily into the graveyard. "But look, Harry! My true family returns…"

The masked wizards filled the area, surrounding me and Voldemort and Wormtail on all sides. I struggled harder against the ropes that bound me. Silently I begged once more for this to all be over. One of the Death Eaters approached Voldemort, slowly, even cautiously, and fell to his knees before him.

"Master," he murmured, and he kissed the hem of Voldemort's robes. I wrinkled my nose at this, but my expression changed to full disgust as the rest of the Death Eaters approached and did the very same thing. Slowly, they formed a circle around us. But there were gaps in the circle; empty places that Voldemort, shaking his head and clicking his tongue, seemed to think ought to be full. He glanced around one more time, as if expecting someone else to pop up out of the gravestones and kiss his robes.

"Welcome, Death Eaters," he finally said. "Thirteen years, thirteen long years it has been since we last met. Yet you answer my call as though it were yesterday… We are still united under the Dark Mark then! Or are we?"

He threw back his head and sniffed the air. "I smell guilt amongst you. There is such stench of guilt in the air!"

A shiver passed through the silent circle, though not one moved. Lord Voldemort sneered at them all.

"I see you all, whole and healthy, with your powers intact- such prompt appearances!- and I ask myself, why did this band of wizards never come to the aid of their master, to whom they swore eternal loyalty?"

No one spoke. A few glanced around at each other shiftily. No other movement was made except for Wormtail's silent shudders upon the ground.

"And I answer myself," said Voldemort in a low, harsh voice. "They must have believe me gone, broken, defeated. They slipped back among my enemies, and they pleaded innocence, and ignorance and bewitchment."

"And I ask myself again, how could they not believe I would rise again? They, who know I have gone further than any mere mortal to guard myself against passing from this world, did not believe I would return to reclaim my place as the greatest wizard of all time? They, how have seen the proof of the immensity of my powers time and time again, doubted me?"

The onlookers glanced around at each other once more. I took the distraction as an opportunity to work at the knots binding my arms. Voldemort halted his pacing directly in front of me, and I froze.

"And then I ask myself once more," Voldemort said, and although he was looking me right in the eye, he was speaking to the Death Eaters, "Perhaps they believed a still greater power could exist, one that could vanquish even Lord Voldemort… perhaps they now pay allegiance to another... perhaps that champion of commoners, of Mudbloods and Muggles, Albus Dumbledore?"

The shiver passed through the circle once more, this time with it a harsh cold breeze floated through the graveyard, brushing my hair into my face once more and setting the leaves on the yew tree beside me fluttering.

"It is a disappointment to me… I confess myself greatly disappointed…"

One of the men in the circle suddenly flung himself to the ground at Voldemort's feet. His body trembled and his voice shook as he spoke.

"Master, forgive me! Forgive us all Master!"

Voldemort let out a cold, cruel laugh. He raised the hand holding his wand, with that leer still set upon his cold, once handsome features.

"Crucio!"

The Death Eater upon the ground let out an ear-piercing shriek and writhed upon the ground where he knelt. I closed my eyes and turned my face away, trying to block out the screams of the Death Eater.

Harry's voice drifted into my ear once more, pleadingly. 'Let the police come… anyone, anything. Please, make it stop.'

I turned my eyes up to the sky, as Harry whispered his words again. I shut my eyes and begged the person in charge to let it end. The screams stopped, and for a moment, I wondered if my prayer had worked. I looked around, to find the Death Eater lying upon the ground, with his face in the dirt and Voldemort standing over him, laughing still.

"Get up, Avery," said Voldemort softly, almost in a croon. "Stand up. You ask for forgiveness? I do not forgive. I do not forget. Thirteen long years… I want thirteen years' repayment before I forgive you. Wormtail here has already paid off some of his debt, have you not, Wormtail?"

Voldemort looked down at the man still huddled upon the ground crying over his lost hand.

"You returned to me, not out of loyalty, but out of fear of your old friends. You deserve this pain, Wormtail. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes, Master," moaned Wormtail pitiably, "please, Master… please, you promised…"

"Yet you helped me return to my body and my glory, Wormtail," crooned Voldemort cruelly. "Worthless and traitorous as you are, you helped me…and Lord Voldemort rewards his helpers…"

Voldemort raised his wand once more, gave it a flourish and a streak of silver light burst from the tip of his wand and flew through the air towards Wormtail. In mid air it fashioned itself into a perfect replica of a human hand and attached itself to Wormtail's bleeding wrist. The man upon the ground immediately ceased his sobbing, and rose to his feet, staring at his new hand in bewitched awe. He flexed the shining fingers, a look of disbelief crossing his face, and turned to Voldemort.

"My Lord," he whispered in an awed voice, "it is beautiful, thank you, Master. Thank you…"

"May your loyalty never waver again, Wormtail."

"No, my Lord, never again."

Wormtail stumbled forward and fell to his knees before Voldemort. He kissed the hem of Voldemort's robes, then stood and withdrew to his place in the circle of Death Eaters. Voldemort now approached the one of the many gaps in the circle, the snake trailing behind him.

"The Lestranges should stand here," said Voldemort in a soft voice. "But they are entombed in Azkaban. They were faithful to me; they refused to denounce me. They went to Azkaban rather than renounce our ways. When Azkaban is broken open, they will be rewarded beyond their wildest dreams." Voldemort stepped away, walking through the inner side of the circle, until he reached the largest gap of all, and he stood there surveying it with his blank red eyes, as though he could see the people that should have filled the gap.

"And here should stand six missing Death Eaters," he said darkly. "Three perished in my service, one is too cowardly to return. He will pay for his insolence. One I fear has left us forever. He will of course be killed. One stands at Hogwarts, ever faithful to me. It is he who brought to us, Death Eaters, my friend here. Harry Potter."

I knew this was coming. Voldemort turned to me with a look of triumph upon his face.

"Yes," said Voldemort, his lipless mouth curling into a false grin, "Harry Potter. He has been so kind as to join my rebirthing party. One might go so far as to call him my guest of honor."

There was silence. Voldemort's eyes were locked onto mine, and I could not help but let the panic in my chest grow into full-blown terror. His red eyes were nothing like they had once been, nothing like the deep brown that had charmed me so well.

One of the Death Eaters stepped forward and the voice of Lucius Malfoy issued from beneath the mask.

"Master," he said, almost reverently. "We crave to know how you achieved this… this miracle. How have you returned to us, my Lord?"

Voldemort's gaze strayed from mine. He turned to Lucius, smirking.

"Ah, yes. The story of my return. But what a story it is. And it begins, and ends, with my young friend here. You know, of course, that they have called this boy, this child, my downfall. You all know that on the night I lost my powers, I had traveled to Godric's Hollow to kill this child. His mother died in an attempt to save him from my wrath- and unwittingly provided him with a protection, I admit, I had not foreseen… I could not touch the boy."

Voldemort turned back to me, and raised one long white finger. My breath hitched in my throat as he brought it up to my face, hovering beside my cheek.

"His mother left upon him the traces of her sacrifice… This is old magic. I should have remembered it; I was foolish to overlook it… but no matter, I can touch him now."

I felt the cold tip of the finger land on my skin, and its coldness spread through my skin unnaturally fast. Then, pain exploded in my head, just behind my forehead. Burning pain; I fought the scream that rose in my throat in response. Voldemort laughed softly in my ear, and withdrew his finger. My skin still felt like ice where he had touched it, but the pain in my head faded.

Voldemort turned to his Death Eaters again, and his voice came from him once more, but I was not listening. I sagged against the ropes and the stone arms that once held me in but now held me up. I could not understand where that blinding pain had come from. Voldemort's words rang through the graveyard, bringing a dull throbbing pain in the back of my mind.

Voldemort turned back to me, and I struggled to stand, to support my weight as he approached me again. His wand touched my chest, and then he brought it up to tap my forehead. The cruel smirk curling his mouth struck fear farther into my heart.

"Crucio!"

A scream tore itself from my throat as pure unfiltered pain spread through me at an alarming rate, starting in my forehead where Voldemort's wand touched me and pushing itself through my body. I now knew what spell Tom had used on me, as the white hot acid poured over me again. Voldemort laughed in triumph, and lifted his wand. The pain vanished, and I sagged again, panting and gasping.

"Now untie him, Wormtail," Voldemort said. "And give him back his wand."


	9. Chapter 8 Nightmares and Fears

**Chapter Eight**

**Nightmares and Fears**

Just as the heat of the flames reached the tipping point, I felt the pain wane. I looked down, and the flames seemed to be receding. In fact, moments later, the fire had been extinguished.

"What?" I said, looking around in confusion. The ropes binding me to the post disintegrated, as did the post itself. I stumbled forward, falling to my knees. The pile of wood vanished, and all around me, the jeering faces of the Muggle men faded. I now knelt in a grassy courtyard by a fountain at dusk. I stood shakily, examining my arms and legs. There was not a trace of a burn on my body, and I was back in my Muggle clothes. I let out a shaky laugh.

"Don't move!"

I groaned. Someone grabbed my arm, and tugged me away from the fountain, towards a manor house looming out of the fog. I glanced over at my captor, and let out a gasp.

Bellatrix Lestrange.

"The Dark Lord has discovered your treachery," she hissed in my ear. "He is most displeased with you."

I couldn't help but gulp in fear. "What did I do?" I asked in a small voice. Bellatrix gave me a sideways glance and laughed at me.

"You have betrayed the Dark Lord! You are having traitorous thoughts, and you have agreed to use your skills to bring back one of the Dark Lord's worst enemies!"

I let out a sigh. Great, I could guess as to whose nightmare this was. Thanks, Lucius, I thought bitterly.

"The Dark Lord has found you invaluable in the past," Bellatrix said as she pushed open the front door, "but your value has faded, especially given recent events."

"How do I face this nightmare?" I said aloud. I half-hoped that by saying that, I might get some help. All that happened was Bellatrix giving me a funny look. "Never mind," I muttered. "Carry on."

Bellatrix let out a growl, and tugged me through the large posh entrance hall to a smaller, but certainly grander, room past it.

"My Lord," she called. "I have brought the traitor!"

"Good," hissed a low, unnatural voice. I stiffened. Lord Voldemort sat in a high-back armchair by the fire, staring at me with hatred in his eyes.

"Bring him to me," Voldemort said. Bellatrix hauled me forward and flung me to the ground at Voldemort's feet. He leaned forward and touched my cheek with one long, cold finger.

"I cannot say I regret your change of allegiance, Lucius," Voldemort said silkily. "I would have found it extremely useful had you decided to revive another of my Horcruxes."

I frowned. Malfoy revived a Horcrux?

"Alas, I must punish those who disobey me," Voldemort sighed. "Bring in Narcissa and the boy."

I looked over my shoulder to see Mrs. Malfoy and Draco being hauled in by two burly men in masks. They were both gagged, and their hands were tied in front of them.

"You may have committed the sin, Lucius, but it is your wife and son that will pay for it," Voldemort said. The two burly men both jabbed their wands into their victim and cried aloud, "Crucio!"

Narcissa let out a scream of agony, and fell to the floor in a heap. Draco dropped to his knees with a gasp, his face twisted with pain. I clapped a hand to my mouth in horror.

"Let them go!" I said. "They didn't do anything!"

Voldemort laughed coldly. "Do you think I care? You must be punished, and this is your punishment. You will watch your wife and son be tortured until their minds break!"

I turned back to Narcissa, writhing on the floor, and Draco, who had just let out a scream of pain. What was I supposed to do? I couldn't just let them die, I may not like them, but they were human beings just like me!

"Do whatever you want to me," I burst out. "Kill me, torture me, just let them go!"

Voldemort waved a hand to the two burly men, and they lifted their wands. "You are willing to die to save them?" he asked.

"They're real people," I said. "They don't deserve to die for something they didn't do."

_Neither do you,_ said a low voice in my head. I pushed it aside. This was only a dream. It couldn't hurt me. The past two nightmare's had proven that.

Voldemort narrowed his red eyes at me. I gulped.

He raised his wand. I closed my eyes.

"Avada Kedavra!"

I peeked through my lashes, and watched, as if in slow motion, as the curse flashed from the end of his wand to fly through the air towards me. I watched it light up the air around me, and then, it was gone, along with the rest of the room and the people. I pushed myself to my feet, and inhaled slowly. I let out my breath, and looked around. I stood in a white expanse.

"Very intriguing," called the voice from before. I automatically reached for my wand, before I remembered that 'the voice' had taken it.

"What's intriguing?" I asked.

"Your reactions to those three nightmares. You faced the wolf, and let it bite you. You burned at the stake and did not take the offensive against those Muggles, even though they wished to kill you, but you did make empty threats. You were willing to die to save two people you hate. This is curious."

"I did what my gut told me to do," I said. "Was I supposed to do something else? Kill the werewolf? Seriously curse those Muggles? They didn't know better, I'd say. They were confused and very medieval about it. I didn't actually die, so what's the point? And as for the wolf, it couldn't control itself, could it? My mother always said that werewolves are real people who just can't control their bad side."

"And you put your life on the line to protect Narcissa and Draco Malfoy," the voice added. "That is what interests me most."

"Why?" I said.

"You hate them, do you not?"

"Draco, maybe," I said. "As for Mrs. Malfoy, it's more like I really don't like her."

"And you were willing to die to save them. This shows great selflessness."

"It was the right thing," I said.

"Modest, as well, aren't you?" the voice let out a chuckle. "We shall see if you can keep your cool in your next trial."

"What is this for, anyway?" I called. "Why am I doing this?"

"To test you," the voice called, and it sounded farther away. "If you are to revive your love, you must be pure of heart. I have always said that the best way to see into a woman's heart is too put her under duress. This next nightmare will be more difficult still. Enjoy."

"Whose is it?" I yelled. "Tell me!"

The voice laughed, and then I was standing in a dank room, wearing Muggle boys' pajamas.

I looked down at my body, and it looked to me like I was smaller. I felt shorter, at least.

"Al, move out of the way, you're blocking the TV."

I turned around to face a plump man sitting with his feet up on a low table.

"Did you hear me, boy?" the man growled. "You're in the way!"

I stepped to my left, confused. Then it dawned on me. This had to be either Alasdair's or Dumbledore's nightmare, if that man was calling me 'Al.' I looked around, scanning my surroundings. I was in a Muggle living room, a very dirty room, and judging by the clock on the wall, it was late at night.

"Why aren't you in bed, anyway?" the man growled as his eyes flicked to me. I shrugged.

"Your momma's gonna be back soon," he muttered. "If you're awake when she gets back, she won't be happy. You wanna please your momma, don't you?"

"Yeah," I said. "Where is she?"

He gave me a funny look. "She's at work, you numbskull! Someone's gotta pay for you, and the cable."

"Why don't you work?" I said, feeling suddenly angry. The man turned to me, brow furrowed.

"Say again?" he said in a low voice.

"I said why don't you work?" I repeated.

The man rose out of the chair, and started towards me. I backed away, afraid of the murderous look on his face.

"You'd better watch your mouth, kid!" he growled. "Or do you like getting beat up?"

I shook my head quickly, backing farther away. I bumped into the wall.

"You're lucky your momma likes you," he growled, "or Ida thrown you outta here the minute I married your momma!"

"You're just a mean old man!" I yelled suddenly. "My momma wouldn't chose you over me!"

I felt internally confused. Why was I baiting this man, after he had just threatened to beat me?

Apparently, the man was startled as well, but that didn't stop him from drawing his lips back in a sneer. Or seizing me by the collar and lifting me into the air.

"You idiot boy!" he growled. "I thought you'd have learnt your lesson!"

"Let me go!" I said, and I kicked him as hard as I could in the chest. He dropped me with a wheezy gasp and I hit the floor in a heap. I scrambled up and tried to dart away from him, but he grabbed me by the arm and twisted me around. I didn't see his fist coming.

He hit me right in the nose. I dropped to my bottom and clutched my face, as warm blood oozed from my nostrils.

"Why'd you do dat?" I said in a nasal voice.

"You'd better learn quick boy," the man snapped, grabbing me again.

"Let go!" I yelled. He plunged his fist into my stomach. I gasped as the wind was knocked out of me, and struggled to breath. The man's hand closed around my throat.

"I oughta kill you now and be rid of you," he snarled, squeezing his fingers. "You're a freak, kid!"

"Let go," I wheezed. "I'll tell the police!"

The man let go of my throat, and grabbed my ankle. He hoisted me into the air, and I dangled above the ground. I tried kicking him, but he held me out reach.

"Lemme go!" I hollered. The man laughed.

"You're more trouble than you're worth!" he said. "All those private lessons you get from that nutter down the street? They cost too much! It's messing with my beer money!"

"Let me down! Go drown yourself in your beer!"

The man tightened his grip on my leg, and then he flung me away from him. I collided with the chair he'd vacated, and fell to the floor. I groaned and sat up groggily. The man grabbed my arm and hauled me to my feet. He drew back his fist; I ducked. The man let out a snarl of frustration and pushed me to the ground. I tried to stand, but he kicked me in the ribs.

"Get away from me!" I screamed, holding my hands out in front of me. A flash of gold light burst from my hands and the man flew backwards, hitting the opposite wall hard. I pushed myself to my feet, and stumbled away from him, towards a door. I pushed the door open, and staggered out into the street. It was snowing. My feet stung with the cold, and I wrapped my arms around myself, looking around. The door behind me burst open, and the man ran out, roaring. He grabbed me by the shoulders lifted me into the air.

"Leave me alone!" I said, trying to kick him. But my legs weren't long enough. He laughed.

"You're done kid!" he yelled. "I've had enough of you!"

I opened my mouth and screamed as loud as I could. The man clapped a hand over my mouth, and I bit him, hard enough that I tasted blood. He yelled, and dropped me. I scrambled away, holding my left arm close to my chest. There was a throbbing pain in the back of my head, my feet were tingling, my arm felt like it was on fire, and my nose ached. I glanced over my shoulder; the man was chasing me. I noticed a house across the street with the lights on. I darted through the snow towards it, praying that whoever was there would help.

"Come back here!" the man yelled. I ran across the street, and tripped over the curb. I hauled myself to my feet, and ran on, the man groping through the air for me. I stumbled up the steps to the front door and banged on the door.

"You're a goner, Al!" yelled the man, and he grabbed me by the throat just as the door opened. I struggled to inhale, as black spots appeared in my vision. Through my lack of oxygen haze, I saw the person pull a wand from the pocket of her robe, and cast a spell at the man. His fingers jerked away from my throat, and I fell against the railing of the person's front porch. I heard shouts above me, and I blearily noted my rescuer pulling me off the ground, and away from the cold and the man into her house. Then, the house vanished, as did my rescuer, and the feeling of being very hurt and very small, and I stood in a fenced in backyard, facing a fair-haired boy who looked as livid as the man who had just beat me up.

"I thought you were my friend," the boy said. "I thought you agreed with me!"

"I do?" I suggested, raising an eyebrow.

"He disrespected me!" the boy burst out, pointing to another, younger blonde boy standing beside me. "He needs to be taught a lesson!"

Perhaps I was just on edge, or more likely that form of words made me think of the man from the last nightmare, and that made me react. Next thing I knew I had drawn my wand and we were dueling.

This isn't so bad, I thought, dodging a curse from my opponent.

I had spoken too soon.

A little girl ran from the house behind me, towards us. The younger boy, who had joined in immediately, yelled "No, Arianna! Stay back!"

I cast a Stunning spell at the fair-haired livid boy, who ducked, and a jet of green light burst from the tip of his wand. It flew past my left shoulder and hit a tree behind me. I glanced at it, the leaves had turned from green to brown, and were falling off the tree. I looked back to the boy in horror. Who was this boy?

"You swore you would help me!" the boy yelled. "You swore Albus!"

"Yeah, well, all bets are off now," I snapped. "Impedimenta!"

"Crucio!" the boy yelled. A jet of red light burst from his wand, and hit the younger boy square in the chest. He dropped to his knees with a scream, and the boy in front of me laughed.

I glared at him, angrier than ever. I sent a blasting hex at his feet, and the force of my hex sent him flying backward. The younger boy beside me stopped screaming, and lay on the ground, panting. The boy pushed himself up, and sent a jet of green light towards me. I ducked, it sailed past me and his the side of the house. The little girl that had left the house ran up to the younger boy, yelling at the top of her lungs, "Abber! Abber!"

"Get back inside," 'Abber' wheezed, pushing himself up. "Go!"

"No!" she said, pulling on his arm. "Me help!"

"Get inside," I told the little girl. "You'll be safer inside the house."

"Nowhere is safe from him," 'Abber' growled. "This is your fault, Albus!"

"What did I do?" I said. 'Abber' opened his mouth to retort when the older boy rose to his feet, and cast a curse that sent me flying. 'Abber' sent a hex towards him; I stood, and jumped back in the fray.

While we were dueling, I didn't pay attention to anything else. My focus was on my opponent, and on keeping 'Abber' and myself alive. I didn't notice that the little girl, Arianna, had joined us.

"You'll all pay!" roared my opponent; I jumped aside, dodging a jet of black light. Behind me, I heard a little gasp. I turned, and caught the little girl as she fell to the ground. I dropped to my knees as her weight hit me.

'Abber' turned around, and our battle was forgotten.

"Arianna!" he gasped, falling to his knees beside us.

"A- Abber," she wheezed. "My- tummy… hurt."

I looked down at her abdomen, and stifled a gag. The curse had ripped her stomach apart. Dark red liquid gushed from the wound, spilling over the grass and my knees.

"You- you'll be okay," 'Abber' said, his voice cracking. "Al- Albus will fix you. Right?"

"I- I don't-" I stammered. "I can't-"

"Fix her!" Abber burst out.

"I can't!" I said. "I don't' know how!"

"Where did you get all those medals and awards from, then? You know how to fix her!"

"I don't!" I said. "I don't know what to do, I swear!"

"Your word is worth nothing anymore, Albus," said my opponent. I whipped around, pointing my wand to him. He raised his hands up, dropping his own. "Aberforth, you're wrong. There is no counter-curse to what I used. I should know, I created the spell."

"Then create a reversal!" Aberforth yelled. The boy smirked.

"Typical buffoon, you think I can just whip up a remedy out of nowhere?" he let out a humorless laugh. "Besides, the girl was already damaged, was she not? She's out of the way now, isn't she?"

I lowered Arianna to the ground, and stood up slowly. I looked him straight in the eye, my hands clenched into fists.

"I have been bitten by a werewolf, burned at the stake, nearly died to save two people I hate from dying, and been beaten to a pulp by a total stranger," I growled. "If I'm supposed to do some heroic act of magic and save that girl, then I will, even if it means putting my life on the line. But I will not tolerate some pansy-ass boy calling that little girl, or anyone worthless. I'm going to give you ten seconds to get out of my sight, or I'll use every ounce of my magic to make sure you live out the rest of your life as a hideous half-human thing!"

The boy backed away from me, eyes wide with fear. I raised my wand, and said, "One."

He turned tail, and ran, vaulting over the fence. I turned back to the little girl on the ground, and dropped to my knees.

"What am I supposed to do?" I said, looking down at her. She gave me a weak smile.

"Pretty lights," the little girl said, pointing up. Her face was deathly pale. "See Mama."

"Mama's dead," Aberforth said; his voice broke. The little girl just smiled, and closed her eyes.

"How do I save you?" I said through gritted teeth.

"You can't," she said, but it wasn't her voice, it was the voice from before. "Little Arianna died, and her brother could do nothing to help her. That is his worst nightmare. You have done well, Ginevra Weasley."

"I haven't done anything!" I cried. "Why can't I save her?"

"Because the owner of this worst nightmare could not save her when this really happened. She died, and he and his brother never spoke again. Can you guess whose nightmare this is?"

"Professor Dumbledore's," I said. "They were calling me 'Albus.'"

"Yes," the voice moved, now coming from a spot above me. I glanced up, then back at the little girl bleeding out on the ground and Aberforth wiping away tears. "Albus Dumbledore's worst nightmare."

"Then that last one was Alasdair's," I said.

"Yes again. He dreams frequently of his step-father beating him. It was a common occurrence."

"Did he ever get away?" I asked, rising to my feet.

"Yes; he ran away shortly after the scene you went through, and found his father. This boy here, in fact."

As she said those last words, the image of Aberforth and Arianna faded, and I was once again standing in Stonehenge.

"Can you tell me who the first three nightmares belonged to?" the voice called.

"The third one was Lucius Malfoy's," I said. "That's obvious."

"But the first and second?"

"Well, one is Hermione's and the other is Draco's," I said.

"But which is which?"

I bit my lip, thinking. "The first one was Draco's, and the second was Hermione's?"

"Very good. What led you to that conclusion?"

"Um, it was a guess?"

The voice laughed. "A lucky guess, then."

I cracked a smile, "That and I didn't think Draco would have nightmares about being killed by Muggles."

"Can you tell me the root fear of each nightmare?"

I frowned. "Uh, the root fear of Albus' nightmare was the fear of losing his sister?"

"Close, it was the fear of losing a loved one. And Alasdair's?"

"Fear of his step-father," I said, more sure.

"Yes. What about Lucius?"

"Fear of losing a loved one again," I said.

"Correct. And his son's?"

"It was a fear of becoming a werewolf?" I guessed.

"There were actually multiple fears at work there. One of them was a fear of losing his humanity, although the werewolf might not be the best representation of that. There were two others, can you identify them?"

"A fear of…" I trailed off, thinking. In Draco's nightmare, I had been alone in a dark forest in the middle of the night. I had been chased by the wolf and I ran into a snake. And then the wolf bit me. Not to mention the weird pit that had appeared in the path. "Fear of man-eating plants?" I said.

"No, although there was a fear near there. What was it?"

"The snake?" I asked.

"Yes, that's right. Draco Malfoy is afraid of snakes. Now, what is the third root fear there?"

"I thought you were supposed to be testing my virtue or something," I said. "Not my smarts."

The voice laughed again. "We are discussing psychology, Ginevra. And when you are in my realm, we will discuss psychology. What is the third root fear?"

"Um, fear of creepy woods," I guessed.

"Alas, that is not all. But, I will tell you. The third root fear of Draco Malfoy's worst nightmare is a fear of the dark."

"Malfoy's afraid of the dark?" I said.

"Yes. Now, what is the root fear of Hermione's nightmare?"

"Why's Malfoy afraid of the dark?" I asked.

"I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to tell you that. Your friend's root fear?"

"Um, being burned at the stake?"

"No."

"Fear of being exposed as a witch?"

"Close. It is a fear of being rejected by her hometown because she is a witch. Especially by that old man you saw."

"Who was he?" I asked.

"He is her town's vicar. He is also her grandfather."

"Wow," I said. "Imagine that."

"Now, for the worst nightmare of your mystery person. I will go ahead and tell you whose it is."

Stonehenge faded around me, and I stood in a dark unkempt courtyard, surrounded by gravestones.

"This is the nightmare of Harry Potter."


	10. Chapter 10 Ginny and Harry

**Chapter Ten**

**Ginny and Harry's Fears**

Wormtail walked up to me, and raised his new hand and the knife in it. I turned away as he brought the knife down, and the ropes holding me up collapsed. I fell to the ground and landed on my knees, the skin on my palms stung and I felt the shockwave run through my legs as I shakily pushed myself up. Wormtail shoved a wand into my hand, and again, I felt warmth spread through my arm, and a strange sense of safety filled me.

"You have been taught how to duel, I presume, Harry Potter?"

I felt that sense of safety leave me as fast as it came. I didn't know how to duel.

Voldemort's lipless mouth curled in a cruel smile. "We bow to each other, Harry. Come, the niceties must be observed… Dumbledore would like you to show manners. Bow to death, Harry."

I glanced around at the laughing Death Eaters. Bow? Why the hell would I bow to him?

"I said, bow," Voldemort hissed, and he raised his wand. I gasped as a heavy force shoved my back down, and my gaze fell to the ground. The Death Eaters laughed louder. I winced as the invisible force retreated, and I straightened up with a snap.

"Very good," said Voldemort in a dangerously soft voice as he raised his wand once more. "And now you face me, like a man… straight-backed and proud, the way your father died."

I raised my wand, ready to fight for Harry. Voldemort sneered cruelly at me.

"And now, we duel."

I had no chance, no chance at all. Voldemort jumped right into it, and immediately I felt pain rip through me again, and Voldemort was laughing and the Death Eaters pressed in as I fell to my knees, and a scream tore itself from my throat. Voldemort lifted his wand, and the pain left as quickly as it came. I lay there on the ground a moment, and then Voldemort stepped forward and I knew I had to get to my feet. I pushed myself up, but my body was weak and shaking like a leaf, like Wormtail had been after he cut off his hand. I staggered forward, and fell back to my knees at the feet of one of the Death Eaters. He grabbed my arm roughly and pulled me up. He shoved me forward, and I staggered towards Voldemort.

"A little break," Voldemort said, his cold red eyes dilated with excitement, "a little pause. That hurt, didn't it, Harry? You don't want me to do that again, do you?"

I didn't answer. Those red soulless eyes were telling me I was going to die, just like the boy on the ground not ten feet away, just like Harry.

I held my tongue. If I was going to die, I would not follow Voldemort's lead. I stared Voldemort right in the eye, my mouth firmly shut. I stared him in the eye, giving him a wordless challenge.

"I asked you whether you want me to do that again," Voldemort said softly, but his voice betrayed a hint of anger. "Answer me. Imperio!"

I felt the spell hit me, and my mind blanked. It was pure bliss, I knew nothing could break the soft feeling inside me. I heard a little voice in the back of my mind, whispering softly in my ear.

'Just say no,' it said. 'It will be all right. Tell him no.'

I opened my mouth to say 'no' when another voice entered my head, but this one was not soft.

'I will not,' it said. 'I won't answer.'

I felt the blissful ignorant feeling fade a little. I knew that voice. I knew it, but I could not place it.

'Just answer no. Say no.'

'I will not.'

'Tell him no.'

'I won't!'

The blissful feeling turned into a muddled feeling. I felt confused rather than comforted.

'Say no. It won't hurt anymore if you say no.'

"I WON'T!" I yelled, but it wasn't my voice. The muddled blissful feeling shattered, and I knew whose voice it was.

Harry's.

"You won't?" Voldemort said quietly. "You won't say no? Harry, obedience is a virtue I must teach you before you die. Perhaps another little does of pain?"

Voldemort raised his wand, his mouth moved to form the incantation, and I felt another invisible force propel me away, to the side, as the he uttered the curse and the red light slammed into the head stone behind where I was standing. I ducked behind a larger gravestone, trying to catch my breath.

"We are not playing hide-and-seek, Harry," said Voldemort's soft cold voice, drawing nearer with every second. "You cannot hide from me. Does this mean you are tired of our duel? Would you rather I finish it now? Come out, Harry, come out and play, then. It will be quick, it might even be painless. I would not know, I have never died."

I crouched behind the headstone with my heart pounding hard in my chest, the sound of it drumming in my ears, drowning out Voldemort. I knew that the end for me had come, it had to have. I was going to die, and join Harry in the Waiting Realm. I would find my end in a dream, a dream that wasn't even mine.

But I would not die like this. I pushed myself up. If I was going to die, I would die on my feet, like Harry had died.

I raised my wand. Voldemort smirked. I stepped out from behind the headstone. Voldemort

stepped forward.

I drew in what was sure to be my last breath. Voldemort opened his mouth, and I hurried to shout out a spell.

"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort cried just as a single incantation sprang from my lips.

"Expelliarmus!"

...HGHGHGHG...

I lay in cold, thick darkness. I know not where I am, even who I am. There is a presence here, wherever here is, that I cannot explain. I think it has been here the whole time, but before it was hidden, the girl made of light. Now her light has faded, almost to nothing, and the presence, the dark feeling, grows stronger. I hear cold, humorless laughter. I hear cries of frustration. I hear even words, but I cannot understand them. I hear screams, and she shakes and cries. I am pinned down, and fear fills me with every terrible scream.

I feel as though trapped in a horrible nightmare, with no escape in sight. I try to get up, I try to even lift my head, and an invisible force pushes me down. I try to speak, and it forces my mouth shut. I taste blood as my tongue is caught in my teeth. I wince, and the invisible force rearranges my face into a placid expression. I feel anger fill me, and shove at the force holding me down. It pushes back harder than before. I raise one arm with difficulty to have it thrown back to the ground. The anger in my chest bubbles over and I shove myself forward, upward, against the force holding me down. It pushes back, but I refuse to be held down. I stand, pushing against the force holding me down, with it pushing me back with every second. I grit my teeth and shove it away from me. It slams back, nearly knocking me down, but I catch my balance and push it away. She's on her knees, a stone's throw from me. I push toward her, the force pushes me back. I shove it away, it knocks me back. One step forward, two steps back. I spit blood from my mouth and push at the invisible force keeping me away from her. It pushes back with twice the force I give it. My muscles strain, my body grows weak; I feel the force become triumphant.

And then she screams.

I shove the invisible force away with every ounce of strength I posses in my body and fall to the ground at her side. She writhes on the ground, her mouth open wide with her scream of agony. I grab her hand and pull her to me. She stops screaming and falls into my arms, as sobs replace her screams. I hold her close, my hands stroking her hair. I feel her tears seep from her eyes to drip down my shoulder, splashing onto the ground.

And slowly, her tears cease. She stands, and I do too. She touches my cheek, and then she turns, and walks away. I raise an arm, ready to call her back, but she glances back to me. She presses a finger to her lips, and drops back to her knees far from me. I look around, confused by her actions, as the dark presence here returns, chilling my neck and raising the hairs on my arms. I stand there in the dark, watching her. She slumps, and I see her fall into sleep's tight clutches.

...HGHGHGHG...

My spell flew through the air and met Voldemort's. Voldemort's flash of green light soared through the air, my red light faded, the green light lit up my world, filling my eyes, and then, I stood in Stonehenge once more.

I glanced around, and slowly lowered my wand. I blinked away my confusion, as a tall, very tall, dark haired woman stepped out from behind one of the tall standing stones.

I brought my wand back up with a snap. The woman smiled, her blood red lips curling against her porcelain skin. Her black hair tumbled around her shoulders and shook as though in a breeze as she stepped towards me, her bare feet gently parting the grass. Her long dress rippled, as did the color. One moment it was a deep blue and the next it was the color of the sunset. She stopped ten feet from me, and the dress settled into a gray color.

"Well done," she said softly.

I drew in a sharp breath.

"You're the person who was-"

"Testing you?" she finished for me. "Of course. I enjoy each and every test. Yours in particular I have so far found to be fully interesting."

"Who are you?" I asked once more.

She smiled. "I guess it would be decent of me to give you an answer now. But I have always been horrid at being decent."

"Just tell me who you are," I said. "What's your name?"

Her smile faded. "Names are a difficult thing here. They have great power. For this reason, I, like many of my brethren, have chosen a title instead of giving away freely my name. Mine is the Dreamkeeper, Ginevra Weasley. I am the lord of this realm, and of the realm in which will take place your next test. But enough of that, you must finish this test to move on. Are you ready for your worst nightmare, Ginevra Weasley?"

"No," I said, almost in a whisper. The Dreamkeeper smiled.

"I am afraid that will not help you," she said. "You will go on whether you are ready or not. I cannot give you help of any kind, but for simple, yet guarded, words. This is my only warning to you, Ginevra: Be brave."

The colors of Stonehenge faded, and the Dreamkeeper darkened as the setting changed. I glanced around, and felt my heart sink. I should have seen it coming.

I stood in a dark Chamber at the feet of a sixty foot statue. I turned slowly on the spot, examining my surroundings, and my eyes were caught on a single figure standing ten feet from me.

Tom smiled cruelly at me. And then he stepped to the side, and my mouth fell open.

...HGHGHGHG...

She shakes violently, like a candle flame in a hurricane, on her knees. The invisible force returns to hold me away from her; no matter how hard I push I cannot force it away again. The force keeps me in place; I cannot move towards her.

'She must be tested,' the force whispers in my ear. 'You cannot help.'

Why? I say. Why must she be afraid? Why can't I go to her?

'She must be pushed until she breaks,' the force said. 'I must push her past the breaking point and farther if she is to pull you back to her.'

Why do you have to push her? I ask.

'To see how hard I have to push.'

But why? Why can't I already be with her? I cry aloud, desperately.

'You were torn from your world, ripped from her side and now she must piece you back together.'

But I don't understand! I cry aloud. Why am I even here? Where is she? Why am I not there too?

'You are waiting, a waiting soul. You must wait whilst she completes her task.'

I yell with frustration. The force holding me back speaks in riddles, and I cannot understand its complicated tongue.

It pushes me farther from her as she pushes herself to her feet. She stumbles forward a step, and falls back to her knees. Her shoulders shake violently with silent sobs, and I push against the force holding me back.

'No! She is at her most crucial point! If she fails this test, you will never see her again!'

I sag against the force.

'If she fails this test you will never return to her. You will be stuck here until the rest of her soul and yours join you and what little of her is here.'

I glance at her, she has risen again and seems to be facing whatever terror she's being given with a brave face. The force pushes me away, back to my starting point. I feel torn; I want to run to her, to comfort her, to take away whatever terror grips her, but I now know I cannot fight this battle for her. My head hangs, and I fall back. The force eases up, but its presence remains a strong force in whatever place I'm in. It is not the only presence of course. The dark presence from before is not as strong anymore, but as I retreat, I feel it move towards me. I feel it ebb towards me, like ink poured into water, or perhaps poison. I edge away from its presence, but like the invisible force, it creeps up towards me, sending a chill down my spine. I glance towards her, and sink to the ground. If she must be terrified, and I cannot help, then I have no choice but to watch her. I see her fall back onto her rump and her jaw drop. I half stand, but the invisible force shoves me down. I glare in the direction of the force's presence, and cross my arms over my chest.

...HGHGHGHG...

I stumbled back, slamming into the cold stone of Salazar's Slytherin's feet. Tom smirked. Harry's body revolved slowly in mid air, but on the ground, he lay pale and still and he was crumpled to the ground, his body in a heap and his face twisted with horror.

"I don't understand!" I gasped. "There's three of him?"

"We could not decide whether the nightmare you had last night was worse than the nightmares that have plagued you for the past four years, and so we mixed them, creating the nightmare you have not yet had," Tom said in a voice that wasn't his. "Your worst nightmare is thus: Your beloved Harry, dead three ways, death by basilisk, murder… and suicide."

I pressed my hands to my mouth. "What happens now?"

Tom smirked again. "You watch him die. Three times over."

The colors faded again. I felt the stone statue holding me up crumbled, and I collapsed. The Chamber faded, and I was pushed to my feet. I stood in Hogsmeade, my wand in my hand and my feet were moving without my telling them to. I heard my own mouth utter incantations, other mouths shout them, and before me, Tom cast a curse.

The red light soared past me. I felt it brush up against my arm.

The pain ripped through me. My throat felt raw from screaming. I fell to the ground, the pain running through me like stampeding feet. And then it stopped. Tom stood over me, and his wide, terrible smile full of malice affirmed what I knew was coming.

"Wouldn't want you to miss the curtain call," he sneered. He grabbed my arm and roughly pulled me to my feet. Harry stood feet from me, frozen in time as he stared in horror at me. I never really thought about it before, but his face showed terror, not horror. Fear.

Fear of what?

"It's time for you to die, Potter," Voldemort said. I raised my shaking hands to my mouth. Voldemort opened his mouth again. I closed my eyes.

"You must watch," whispered Tom in my ear. My right ear. I glanced to my right to see Tom, with his arms crossed in front of him, and then to my left, to see Tom, watching Voldemort with cruelty and relish in his gaze, but he seemed frozen just as much as Harry. I looked back to the Tom on my right, and he smirked at my expression.

"Just watch," he said, and he gripped my chin, forcing my gaze to move back to Harry.

"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort cried aloud. I watched for the second time as the jet of green light flew through the air, as it collided with Harry, as he crumpled to the ground, as the light left his eyes, as he died.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Tom asked, his hot breath sending a chill up my spine. "Are you ready for his second death?"

I shook my head quickly. Tom laughed, then I fell back onto the ground, and the Chamber returned. I lay on my back, staring up at the cavern ceiling. I could not move, I felt very cold, and my eyes darted around, searching for what I knew was coming.

Harry, little, twelve years old Harry fell to his knees beside me. His left arm was stained with blood and in his right hand, he held the basilisk fang. The diary lay on the ground between us, bleeding ink. His skin was pale as paper, and the blood on his arm glinted brightly.

Harry dropped the fang; it clattered to the ground. He wiped his ink and blood stained hand on his robes, and held it out, shaking, to touch my cheek. His fingers were lukewarm against my skin.

"I'm sorry Ginny," he whispered. "I tried."

"Please Harry," I said as a tear slipped down my cheek. "Please don't."

Harry did not hear me. He brushed a strand of hair out of my face and a single tear cut through the grime and blood and slime on his cheek.

"You'll be okay," he said. "You'll be all right. Ron's waiting for you, up in the passage. He should have made a dent in the rocks by now. I'm sorry I couldn't bring you to him. I- I won't make it. I know it."

Another tear slipped down my cheek. Harry noticed it, and wiped it away.

"Don't cry for me, Ginny," he said. "I'm not worth your tears."

"You are, Harry," I said. "You're worth every tear. Don't die. Please don't die."

Harry drew a shuddering breath.

"I'm going to a better place," he said softly. "You grow up, Ginny, and don't blame yourself. But, remember me, please. Say something nice at my funeral."

Harry sniffed loudly, as another tear slipped down his cheek. "I don't want to die," he said. "I don't want to go."

"I don't want you to go either," I said. A third tear slipped down my face. It splashed onto the ground, mixing with the blood, and the ink, and the water already there, chilling my bones. Harry looked up at the ceiling, with his eyes glazed.

"Be a good girl, Ginny," he said. "Don't go pouring your soul into something that wants to pour itself into you." He looked down at me. "I have to go soon. Just remember I don't blame you, so don't blame yourself."

He half laughed. "It had to be one of us, right? Better me than you."

"No," I said. "No, I'd rather it be me. Why couldn't it be me?"

Harry lay down beside me, and he took my hand. "I don't blame you, Ginny."

"I blame myself," I said.

Harry squeezed my hand gently, half heartedly, weakly. "Don't blame yourself. Please don't. Take that as my last request." Harry closed his eyes. His hand loosened on mine. His chest rose upward, fell down, and moved no more.

"Death number three," said Tom's voice. The Chamber did not fade, but Harry did. Tom appeared beside me, and he pulled me to my feet. "This one's my favorite," he said. "But perhaps I am biased. Suicide was always a favorite of mine."

I bit my lip; hard. Harry was walking towards me, with his eyes trailing along the ground and his hands deep in his pockets. He stopped, not far from me, and he pulled out his wand. He glanced around, and then raised it. A rope appeared in the air, one end dangling over his head the other tied to one of the stone snakes lining the Chamber. Harry drew his wand through the air, and a chair appeared beneath it. Harry sat down upon the chair, and waved his wand a third time. A quill and a roll of parchment appeared in the air, and Harry began to speak.

"So this is my suicide note," he said with a sigh. "Because there's always a note saying why they did it and all, and I just can't go without saying why. Ron, Hermione, you probably can guess why. I- I just can't face life anymore. I know I sound corny or cliché or something, but it's the truth. Ever since she left, well, I've lost my will to live. She was my... my everything… I just didn't realize it until she was gone." Harry sighed again. "I know this is just pathetic, and I should be made of stronger stuff, but it feels like when she walked out, she took my heart with her. I can't do this without her. I don't understand why she left, but I can't go on living with her out there, working with Riddle. I only have one thing left to say, and I want someone to get this to Ginny somehow. I should have realized I loved her long before this, maybe that would have made her stay." Harry looked up at the rope dangling above his head. "Somebody tell her that I love her, and I'm going to die because I can't live without her. So, goodbye everyone. Don't tell the Prophet I committed suicide."

Harry flicked his wand once more; the parchment sealed itself, and fell to the ground. The quill vanished, and Harry laid his wand on the ground. Harry stood up on the chair. I bit harder on my lip. I tasted blood. Harry pulled the end of the rope towards him, and tied the end in a loop. A hangman's noose. He pulled it around his neck, and tightened it. I closed my eyes, turning away. I couldn't do it; I couldn't watch him die again.

"You must watch," Tom whispered. "Or you will never complete the dream."

Could I just not watch? Could I just stay here forever, with Harry about to jump off his chair and Tom urging me to look?

"If you don't complete the dream, you won't complete the test," Tom whispered.

I forced my eyes open. Harry took a deep breath, and jumped off the chair. The rope cut into his throat, cutting off his breath. I bit down even harder on my bottom lip, and blood filled my mouth. Harry's face slowly turned red, then purple, and then white. He hung there limply, slowly turning in mid air. Tom put an arm around my shoulders, smirking cruelly. I glanced at him, and, as anger filled me, I shoved him away from me. He fell to the ground with a wince; I advanced on him.

"This, this is your fault," I said. "All of this. If you had never gone down that path, if you had never been born! You killed his parents! You destroyed his life! You killed him!"

Tom pushed himself up, and as he did, his features morphed; from the coldly handsome face of Tom to someone I did not know. His hair lightened to dirty blonde, his face became younger, tanned, his cheekbones sharper and his eyes a light shade of blue. He grew taller, almost ten feet tall. I stumbled back, stunned. This person, this man, smiled indulgently.

"I have that effect," he said in a deep, rich voice. "You have done well, so far, Ginevra."

"Who- Who are you?" I stammered.

"I am the Storyteller," he said. "Do not confuse me with the Romancer; there is a wide margin between the two of us. I volunteered to guide you through your nightmares, in the shape of Tom Riddle from the diary. You are an interesting soul, I have enjoyed watching your story through time. Your ending is particularly fascinating, in its simplicity and violence."

"Now, now," said a woman's voice, just beside me. "You know you aren't supposed to give out spoilers, Storyteller."

Beside me appeared my tester, the Dreamkeeper. She gave me a brief smile and turned to the Storyteller. I decided I was just better off leaving my mouth open.

"Thank you, dear, you may go now," she said. The Storyteller gave me a low bow, inclined his head to the Dreamkeeper, and vanished. Along with him, went the Chamber, and we once again stood in at Stonehenge, with the sun climbing higher in the sky. The Dreamkeeper took my hand and led me towards the low table-like stone in the center.

"Before you go," she said, "I have one question for you: What are the root fears behind your nightmare and Harry's?"

I sighed. "Do I have to?"

The Dreamkeeper smiled. "Yes."

I nodded slowly. "Mine was losing Harry. Harry's was… I don't know."

The Dreamkeeper sighed. "You know, Ginevra. What was his worst fear?"

"Dying?"

"No."

I bit my lip. I felt sharp pain in it, and quickly released it.

"His worst fear was Voldemort winning," I said quietly.

"Ginevra," the Dreamkeeper said softly, "you have done well. Now sleep, and when you wake, you will have what you need."

"Does that mean I passed?" I said, feeling excitement bubble in me.

The Dreamkeeper smiled again. "Yes. I will see you for your next test, Ginny. Sweet dreams."

...HGHGHGHG...

I see her rise to her feet. I feel the invisible force recede, and I run to her. She turns, and embraces me. I hold her tight, I stroke her hair, and she laughs aloud, even though tears are running down her cheeks.

'I passed,' she says softly. 'I passed.'


	11. Ch 11 'I'll Watch Your Life In Pictures'

A/N: Kudos to everyone who understands the chapter title. To those who don't, think Taylor Swift.

**Chapter Eleven**

**'I'll Watch Your Life in Pictures'**

I awoke to a face very close to mine, much too close. His breath was hot and smelled horrible. I let out a yelp, and the face yelped with me and jumped backwards. I realized as he backed up that the face belonged to Alasdair.

"She's awake!" he called.

"Yes, thank you, we noticed," Lucius's voice. I turned my head to see him standing off to the side, but he wasn't paying attention to me. His focus was fixed on a… a round something in his hands. It looked was shaped like a plate, but it was made of glass. Stained glass. I saw vaguely words painted on its surface and an image that looked like a flower.

"What's that?" Alasdair asked as I groggily sat up.

"Stay down," Lucius said almost lazily. Alasdair pushed me back in a lying position. "And as for what this is, I can't be sure, but it appears to be stained glass."

"I think that's obvious," Alasdair said, "what is it apart from that?"

Lucius glanced at him. "I can't be sure."

I sat up again, Lucius scowled, and I waved a hand.

"Shut up, Malfoy," I grumbled. "It's the spell key thingy. I passed."

Lucius's eyebrows rose. "Really? Well done! Was it difficult?"

I gave him a dirty look. "No, it was a walk in the park. Of course it was difficult."

Lucius looked affronted, but he seemed to brush it aside. "What was the test?"

"Let's just say I know a bit more about you lot," I said quietly. I glanced at Alasdair, who looked down at his feet. I looked back to Lucius. "I visited the Realm of Dreams."

"Dreams?" Lucius said. "How are dreams a test?"

"Nightmares," I said. "I went through seven nightmares."

Lucius paled. "Real nightmares?"

I nodded, but I guessed it would be a bad idea to tell him I saw his worst nightmare, and everyone around me's worst nightmares. For one, Alasdair didn't seem like the kind of person that would appreciate being pitied.

"Whose?" Alasdair asked sharply.

"I- I didn't know," I lied, averting my eyes. My gaze disobeyed me and flicked to him. His face showed no emotion. He looked away, towards the western horizon. I turned to face it as well, and saw the sun dipping down behind the mountains.

"How long was I out?" I said.

Lucius opened his mouth, but then there was a cry of delight and a bundle of busy brown hair was shooting towards me, obscuring my vision.

"You're awake!" Hermione gushed. "Oh, we've been so worried!"

"Hermione!" I croaked. "I can't breathe… let go!"

Hermione did, and when she pulled back, I saw her face was stained with tears. I glanced around, feeling dread fill me.

"How long was I in the Realm of Dreams?" I asked darkly.

Lucius set down the piece of stained glass with a sigh. "Seven days."

"We were going to try to pull you out tonight if you hadn't woken," Hermione said. "We were really worried."

"Is anyone else here?" I asked.

"Professor Dumbledore returned to the school four days ago," Lucius said. "Draco went with him. But your brother arrived this morning. I don't know where he is right now."

"Ron?" I said eagerly. "Is he better?"

Hermione glanced at her feet. "No," she said, her voice tight. "He's actually gotten worse. He hasn't woken up. Madame Pomfrey called for someone from St. Mungo's yesterday. Bill's the one who's here."

I clenched my jaw. "I want to see him."

Lucius shook his head. "I'm afraid we have to move quickly to get to the next test site. We don't have time to return to Hogwarts."

Hermione laid her hand on my arm. "We'll go see after the next test, okay? He'll be okay."

I nodded. "Where do we have to go?"

Lucius lifted the stained glass. "Israel."

...

I trudged along dejectedly through fallen leaves and broken twigs behind Lucius and Alasdair. On my left, Bill walked with his hands in his pockets and on my other side, Hermione hugged herself tightly, with her eyes trailing on the ground. I glanced at her, and had a sudden flashback to my nightmare, of Harry walking along the Chamber, and then of his body dangling in the air like a puppet who'd been put away.

I shook myself sharply. "Stop it," I muttered under my breath.

"Are you all right, firefly?" Bill asked softly. I glanced up, and forced a smile.

"Fine," I lied. Bill furrowed his brow, the corners of his mouth drooping down in a frown, but said nothing more. My gaze fell back to the ground, and I shoved my hands into my pockets. I saw Harry in my mind's eye, walking the same way and quickly withdrew them. I crossed my arms, and pulled my eyes from the ground to the sky, cut into sections by the bare, naked branches of the trees above me. The sky was gray, but I saw a glimmer of sunshine behind a cloud. A branch snapped beneath my feet. I reached up and brushed a strand of hair from my eyes. Ahead of me, Lucius stopped.

"Here," he said, turning to face me. I stepped forward and Lucius pointed to a large oak tree just in front of him.

"What do I do?" I asked.

"We must tie you to the tree," Lucius said, drawing his wand. I felt my heart constrict. I had a sudden, kaleidoscope of images, the stake and fire burning my body; the gravestone and Voldemort's laughter. I shook myself with a jerk, and stepped up to the tree. I rested my back against it, lay back my head, and closed my eyes. I heard Lucius whisper an incantation, heard the ropes spring from his wand, and felt them bind me, tying tightly me to the wide oak.

"Are you ready?" Lucius asked.

"Don't we have to wait for a certain time?" I asked quickly, opening my eyes.

"Well, yes, it is coming so, but it isn't exact. It is the place more than the time. Rest your eyes, Weasley. Calm down. Are you ready?"

I sighed. "Might as well be."

Lucius did not smile. "Get yourself ready."

"Why do I have to be tied up?"

"So you stay still," Lucius said. "If you move around too much, then your soul might have trouble finding your body when you finish the test."

I felt the blood drain from my face. "You mean there's a chance I won't wake up?"

"Well, yes, but it's a small one," Lucius said. "Don't worry."

"Easy for you to say," I grumbled.

"You can't start the test until you calm down," Lucius said, his tone conveying annoyance. "Relax, Weasley."

"Fine, fine," I mumbled. I laid my head back and closed my eyes again. My heart beat a fast tat-too in my ear. I focused on the sound until it slowed and I let out a deep breath.

"Very good," Lucius said. "Everyone, back up. Wait for it…"

I half opened one eye. Lucius was the closest to me now, but he stood a good fifteen feet away. He was looking up into the sky with an expectant look on his face. I looked upwards and my eyes widened. The gray clouds directly above me had blackened. Then, lightning flashed in the distance, and thunder boomed.

"DON'T WORRY!" Lucius shouted above the thunder's roar. "JUST RELAX!"

"YOU RELAX!" I yelled back, annoyed. I looked up at the storm clouds brewing above my head. I wasn't worried about the thunder; I had never been scared of thunder. It was what came after the thunder that frightened me.

A bolt of lightning shot from the clouds. I winced. Thunder boomed once more. I saw a flash of light in the clouds, and then a second bolt of lightning came down. I watched it strike the ground five feet from me, and the people around me ran from it. Lucius turned tail and ran. Bill stepped into the clearing away from the trees, making himself as small as possible. Alasdair followed him, and Hermione waved her wand and conjured something out of thin air, a red sheet of something. She laid it on the ground and stood on it. I glanced at Bill and Alasdair, who were both yelling at me, but I couldn't hear their words.

"GO!" I yelled. "I'LL BE FINE!"

Hermione shouted something I couldn't hear, and two more sheets of red something landed on the ground at Bill's feet. I couldn't see why, but Alasdair grabbed one and stood on it. He grabbed Bill's arm and tugged him onto the red sheet. I glanced over at Hermione. She waved a hand and yelled something. I looked up at the sky, as thunder boomed once more. Another bolt of lightning shot down, and I watched it strike the top of my tree. I felt the power run through the tree, felt it vibrate my bones, and I blacked out.

...

"You did it last… a store… let me do it!"

"Romancer, shush, don't say that here!"

"She's unconscious, she can't hear us."

"You'd be surprised what Fireflies can do when they're in danger."

"But she's not in danger-"

"Romancer, she just got struck by lightning. Of course she thinks she's in danger!"

I heard the voices like through water. They were muffled and distorted, but I could tell one voice belonged to a woman and the other to a man.

"When will she wake?" the man

"I can't be sure," the woman's voice. It sounded familiar. "Could be now, could be in another hour. The lightning stopped once it hit her tree, but her companions must be worried by now."

"I still want to be the tester," said the man.

"It's my realm, Romancer," said the woman. I guessed the man's name was Romancer. Funny name that was. "I'll do it."

"Why do the tests get to be in your realms?" said the man, Romancer.

"Only two of the tests are in my realms, stupid."

"Oi!"

"Quiet, the both of you!" another voice, a man's again. "Honestly, you're like a pair of squabbling children. Or an old married couple."

"I wouldn't mind that last synonym," said Romancer in a low voice.

"Shut up," said the woman.

"Its simile!" cried the second man, his voice sounding annoyed.

"Whatever, Bard."

"Don't call me 'Bard.'"

"Now who's the old married couple?" Romancer retorted. I heard a low growl.

"Don't go there, Romancer," said the woman's voice.

"I will murder you," said the second man. I stiffened.

"Please, I'm tired of your empty threats, Storyteller."

I recognized the name. Storyteller, I had met someone called the Storyteller in my last test, yesterday.

"Put your money where your mouth is," continued Romancer.

Storyteller said something else, but I could not understand what he said. Romancer made an indignant sound. I shifted a little, to hear them better.

"Quiet, the both of you!" the woman said. "She's stirring."

I felt something poke my cheek. I shied away from it.

"Yep, she's awake," said Storyteller.

"Okay, you two scram and I'll test her," Romancer said.

"It's my realm!"

"SHUT IT!" I yelled. I opened my eyes to see four figures sitting Indian style on the ground beside me. The ceiling above was plain white, and as I looked around, I noticed that the rest of wherever I sat was just as unmarked and white. I sat up slowly, wincing as my back protested, and noticed that they were taller than me, even while sitting down. I recognized two of them, the woman on my left and the man sitting in front of me. As for the two on my right, I had no idea who they were. The man was fair haired, muscled, and had warm brown eyes and tan skin. The woman was white as the world around us, her skin, her dress, her hair, all but her lips and eyes. Her eyes were black pits with no whites and her lips were just as dark. I felt a shiver pass through me as she stared me down.

"The Dreamkeeper and the Storyteller," I said. "Of course."

"Didn't I tell you that you would be seeing me again?" the Dreamkeeper said.

"No," I said. "Who are they?"

"Storyteller got to meet her already?" the man on my right said. I recognized his voice, and guessed he was Romancer. "Not fair."

"I guided her through her nightmare," Storyteller said. "Did I forget to mention it to you?"

Romancer scowled.

"Stop it," the Dreamkeeper said in annoyance. "Ginevra, this is the Romancer and the Punisher."

Romancer inclined his head, the Punisher made no movement.

"Only one of us was supposed to be here when you woke," the Dreamkeeper continued, "but Romancer got caught up in who would test you."

"Okay," I said. "Where am I?"

"The Realm of-" Romancer started.

Storyteller cut him off with: "Memories!"

"Ta-da!" they exclaimed together, spreading their arms and grinning.

I gave them an 'I'm freaked out' look. Romancer scowled. Storyteller smirked.

The Dreamkeeper cleared her throat. "Since you're already awake, and we're still here, we'll just have to test you together."

"No!" Romancer said, looking shocked. "Only one can test her!"

"Well, seeing as we can't agree on who," the Dreamkeeper said, shrugging, "we'll just bend the rules."

"You can't bend the rules," Storyteller said. "It has to be one of us."

"Um, can you not start arguing again?" I asked. Romancer looked at me, startled.

"Arguing is part of a healthy relationship," he said. "Are you suggesting we end the healthy part our relationship?"

"No, just don't argue so much. At least not in front of me? Please?"

Romancer cocked his head. "I have a strange urge to do everything she wants me to do."

"Remember, Romancer she's a Fidelis Anima," Storyteller said.

Romancer shrugged. "My fifteenth girlfriend was a Fidelis Anima. Didn't mean she couldn't have fun." He gave me a coy smile and winked.

I scooted away from him. Storyteller laughed loudly.

"Romancer," the Dreamkeeper said, annoyed. "Quit trying to seduce her."

He raised his hands up in surrender. "I'm sorry, I can't help but be attracted to Fire- I- I mean redheads," he said, stammering at the end as the Dreamkeeper gave him a warning look. I raised an eyebrow. He smiled apologetically at her.

"Sorry, Ginevra," the Dreamkeeper said. "He's crazy. I always said he should be locked away in Insanity's Domain, but the Healers said he isn't crazy enough."

I nodded and pretended I understood. The Dreamkeeper sighed and shook her head.

"Anyway, either the rest of you leave or test her with me," she said.

"You leave!" Romancer said.

"It's my realm," the Dreamkeeper said. I raised an eyebrow. "I'm the lord of the Realm of Memories," she explained.

"If we are can't pick someone, we should give the job to someone who doesn't want it," Storyteller said.

"Me!" Romancer said quickly, throwing his arm in the air as if he was asking a question or answering one. "I don't want it!"

Storyteller closed his eyes a moment and whispered under his breath a moment. Romancer slowly put his arm down.

"Someone who really doesn't want the job," Storyteller said.

"No," the Dreamkeeper said suddenly, "don't do that to the poor girl."

"Yes!" Storyteller said insistently. "We're testing her, right? That would test her even further than if you or I did it."

"Let me do it, please, Dreamy?" Romancer said, clasping his hands and sticking out his bottom lip. "I can make her uncomfortable!"

"While I don't doubt your ability to scare a girl," the Dreamkeeper sighed, "we're not testing her right now; we're testing her match, who just happens to be in the Waiting Realm. So shut up you two."

Romancer scowled. Storyteller frowned.

"Make a choice, all of us, or me," the Dreamkeeper said. "I'm testing her, and you may stay if you want, or you can go, whatever."

The Punisher shrugged, and I blinked, and she was gone. I felt better immediately.

"So the second test is more of a formality," the Dreamkeeper said. "We tested your worth in the first test; here we're testing your match's worth."

"How do we do that?" asked Romancer.

"Well, Romancer, we're going to have a movie night," the Dreamkeeper said. I heard the suppressed snarl in her voice.

"Movie night?" I said, confused.

"Moving picture," Romancer said. "With words and music and sometimes nudity."

I blinked and stepped back from him. He scowled and Storyteller laughed. The Dreamkeeper gave the two of them 'Shut up' looks.

"So we're going to review his life in pictures to determine if he's worthy of being rescued," the Dreamkeeper continued. "Any questions?"

Silence for a moment. Romancer nudged Storyteller with his elbow. Storyteller winced and glared at him. Romancer raised his eyebrows. Storyteller made an 'Oh!' face, and raised his hand.

"Yes, Storyteller?" the Dreamkeeper said through gritted teeth. She was definitely hiding a glare.

"We're going to watch his whole life? All sixteen years?" he asked.

"No, just the highlights."

I raised my hand. The Dreamkeeper turned to me with raised eyebrows.

"Are the questions they're asking legitimate questions or are they pre-determined lines?"

Storyteller nudged Romancer in the ribs with his elbow. Romancer winced. The Dreamkeeper did not answer.

"So, if that's all, we'll start with Harry as a baby, on Halloween night, 1981."

The Dreamkeeper waved a hand and several large pillows dropped onto the ground. The Dreamkeeper sat down on one Indian style; Romancer and Storyteller each grabbed pillows and sat beside her, Storyteller leaning back on his hands and Romancer lying on his stomach. I snagged a pillow and sank onto it slowly. I pulled my knees up to my chest and locked my arms around them. I glanced at the Dreamkeeper. She gave me a brief smile and pointed ahead of us. I looked, and found myself looked at a wide grayish white screen, suspended in mid air. Static appeared on it, and then I saw what looked like puffs of colored smoke. I heard flashes of laughter, saw a red hair woman, and then there was screaming. The image on the screen changed abruptly, moving from wall to window to door and finally to a crib. The red haired woman was pleading with a cloaked figure, she was screaming, 'Please, show mercy, mercy!' and then there was a flash of green light, and then gold light and the screen showed static again.

I blinked.

The Dreamkeeper sighed. "Seeing as he was a baby, he doesn't remember much, and we have to see everything through his eyes. That was the night he received his scar, the night his parents died, the night he defeated Lord Voldemort by accident-"

"We get it, Dreamy," Romancer interrupted. Her cheeks turned palest pink.

"Fine, moving on. The next highlight is from three years later. Again, he's young, he doesn't remember much." The static on the screen faded, and I saw through four year old Harry's eyes.

I saw a large, purple face, and I surged backward. The man's mouth was moving furiously beneath his bushy mustache and the image was blurred slightly at the bottom.

"Where's the audio?" Storyteller said in a loud whisper.

"Shush!" Romancer said.

"I can't remember anything he heard that night," the Dreamkeeper said. "Now shut up."

The large face backed away, and I saw the rest of the man, a very fat man, standing in a kitchen. There was black smoke issuing from a pot on a nearby stove. The man grabbed something from the counter, and swung it hard against the side of the screen. The image shifted, and I saw the man's shoes. Then, the screen blacked out, and static returned.

"He can't remember anything else past that," the Dreamkeeper said sadly. "He was unconscious after the first blow."

"Wait," I said, before the Dreamkeeper could move onto the next highlight, "who was that?"

"Harry's uncle," the Dreamkeeper said.

"Vernon?" I said. "Vernon beats Harry?"

"Beat," Storyteller corrected. "Past tense."

I gave him a dirty look. "Shut up."

"Calm down," the Dreamkeeper said, holding her hands up between us. "Storyteller's right, Vernon stopped beating him after Harry starting attending Hogwarts. So it is past tense."

I looked down at my feet, embarrassed. The Dreamkeeper patted my shoulder.

"I had no idea," I whispered.

"You didn't know?" Romancer said, frowning. "I though Fidelis Animas confided everything in each other?"

"We didn't really know we were our only soul matches," I mumbled. "I only found out about a week ago."

Romancer raised an eyebrow. "And you're going through all this to bring him back?"

I gave him a dirty look. "Forget it, okay? It's complicated."

Romancer and Storyteller shared a look. The Dreamkeeper patted my shoulder again. I rested my chin on my knees.

"Go on," I said softly. "Next highlight."

The Dreamkeeper waved a hand. "He's older now and remembers more. He's nine years old, and this time it isn't his uncle."

The static on the screen vanished. The image on the screen was shaking; like Harry was running- I guessed that his eyes were the 'cameras'- away from someone. He kept glancing over his shoulder, and whenever he did, I caught a glimpse of a group of boys, much bigger than him, all chasing him and shouting insults. I heard Harry's panting as he ducked around a corner, and caught sight of a group of garbage bins against a wall. I saw the view surge upward, black out a second, and then I saw blue sky and red roof shingles. The view shifted, and we were looking down at the group of boys, who were staring up at Harry with shock on their faces.

"His largest burst of accidental magic," the Dreamkeeper said. "He Apparated to that rooftop, without meaning to or even knowing what he was doing. Your Ministry of Buffoons labeled it as a glitch, so to speak, in their instruments. It registered as a nine year old Apparating, but they didn't believe it. They scrapped the machine that caught it."

"Harry Apparated at nine?" I said. I felt awed. At nine, I was still imagining sparks and chasing butterflies. The most powerful thing I had ever done was set Fred and George's room on fire after they ripped up my fairy tale book.

"Without realizing it," the Dreamkeeper said as the screen showed Harry looking down at the ground, at the boys pointing up to the rooftop and an adult looking up at him in shock. "Those boys terrorized him as a child. It wasn't the only time he had to run from them. When they did catch him, they used him for a punching bag. His cousin Dudley led every game of Harry Hunting."

I pressed my fingers to my mouth to prevent a string of swear words from exploding from me, as anger filled me.

"I can't believe Dumbledore made Harry stay with those monsters!" I burst out. The Dreamkeeper shrugged.

"I don't think Dumbledore realized Harry was being so violently mistreated," she said. I frowned.

"Wasn't he paying any attention to Harry?"

The Dreamkeeper nodded slowly. "But only from afar. He couldn't step in lest the Dursleys decide they weren't willing to shelter Harry anymore. He knew, I think, that Harry was unhappy, and I think he tried to do something about it. For a few months when he was six, Harry's aunt received letters from Dumbledore, asking her to treat Harry better. Petunia eventually stopped opening his letters, and that was that."

"Why didn't he go to them?" I asked. "Why didn't he go do something?"

"He couldn't," the Dreamkeeper said. "He made a promise to keep Harry out of the magical world until he turned eleven, so he couldn't go to him. If he did, it would be a dead give-away."

I shot her a look.

"Sorry," she muttered. "Anyway," she continued, "next highlight, he's almost eleven. Another large burst of accidental magic."

The screen showed static a moment, and then, I was looking into a glass enclosure, right into the eyes of a great big snake.


	12. Chapter 12 Harry

**Chapter Twelve**

**Harry**

Romancer fell over backward with a yelp. Storyteller laughed at him, and the Dreamkeeper smirked. I said nothing, nor did I move. I felt as though in shock. The snake's forked tongue shot out, tasting the air.

I was frozen in fear. The snake's eyes gleamed, bathed in yellow light. I felt my heart give a feeble beat.

The Dreamkeeper jostled my shoulder, and I shook myself free of the sudden grip of fear.

"You all right?" she asked softly. I could tell she was trying to keep her voice from carrying to the two hooligans on her other side. I gave a stiff nod and turned my gaze back to the screen, but kept my eyes from the snake's wide staring eyes.

It hissed, and then, it winked. Harry's voice came to my ears, from where I could not tell, but suddenly I relaxed. Tension I did not know I was keeping evaporated. My shoulders shrugged and I felt comfortable on my pillow.

"I know," he said, "it must be really annoying."

"What's he talking about?" Romancer said in a loud whisper.

"Hush," the Dreamkeeper snapped. "He's talking to the snake."

Romancer scowled, but turned his attention back to the screen, where the snake was nodding at us.

"Where do you come from, anyway?" Harry asked the snake.

The snake jerked its head to the side, and the view moved, to show a sign bearing the words 'Boa Constrictor, Brazil' at the for-front.

Harry looked back to the snake, and so the view changed back. "Was it nice there?"

The snake flicked its tail again, and Harry turned back to the sign. 'This specimen was bred in the zoo.'

"Oh," said Harry's voice, sounding disappointed slightly, "I see. So you've never been to Brazil?"

The snake shook its great head sadly, and the screen bobbed from side to side, as though Harry was mimicking the snake.

"DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE; YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT IT'S DOING!"

The view turned to see a massive, blonde haired boy- Dudley, I guessed- waddling over as fast as his pudgy little legs could carry him. A slightly skinnier boy stood pointing at what I supposed was the snake, an expression of shock and glee upon his round face.

"Out of the way, you," Dudley snapped, and he drew back his fist. I clapped my hands over my mouth to prevent a gasp escaping as Dudley sunk his puffy knuckles into Harry, his stomach area, from the brief glance Harry gave to the fist plunging into his ribs. Harry, fell over backward, hitting the floor with a thud and a muffled yelp of pain. Dudley pressed his fat nose to the glass, the other boy leering into the enclosure along beside him. The view narrowed ever so slightly, and then Dudley and the other boy were leaping backwards with girlish shrieks of terror. The glass had vanished. I raised my eyebrows as the snake uncoiled with a hiss of delight; it slid from the enclosure and thudded to the heavy floor. The snake slithered past Harry, who turned his gaze to follow it. As it did, a soft voice hissed "Brazil, here I come… thankssss, amigo."

And then the screen fuzzed out.

"He vanished the glass?" I asked, impressed.

"That he did," the Dreamkeeper said, nodding. "The snake unfortunately, did not get to leave for Brazil; they recaptured him and replaced the glass."

I honestly did not care about the snake. I did not like snakes. I did, however, allow a smile to spread across my face. "Good for Harry," I whispered.

"Our next highlight is, obviously, his eleventh birthday," the Dreamkeeper said, and the static faded.

Almost an hour later, we had seen Harry receive his letter, get his wand, cast his first spell, and defeat Quirrel. Then we watched him meet Dobby the house-elf, crash my father's Ford Anglia, and then the highlight roll skipped to the Chamber. I hung my head in shame as Harry ran to my lifeless figure lying at the foot of the statue. Neither the Dreamkeeper nor Storyteller made any comment, but Romancer gave a smirk and elbowed Storyteller, who elbowed him back, obviously harder because Romancer yelped and shot him a glare. After the Chamber finished, I gratefully looked up. On went the highlights, Harry blew up his aunt, saw Sirius in his dog form for the very first time. We watched Fred and George present him with the Marauder's Map, and watched him go down the tunnel beneath the Womping Willow. We watched him try to strangle Sirius, watched him change his mind as Professor Remus told the story of how Wormtail was the one to betray Harry's parents, and then watched him fend off over a hundred Dementors at once.

His third year finished. The next highlight, Harry was walking out to fight a dragon. Then came the Second Task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, and then the third.

And then the graveyard. I closed my eyes and buried my face in my arms as Voldemort rose out of the caldron, tortured Harry, and only looked up as the highlight ended. The Dreamkeeper patted my shoulder and gave me a soft smile. I wiped away a tear I had not known had fallen, and watched the next highlight, Harry and the Dementors in Little Whinging. We watched his trial, and watched the first D.A. meeting. Then along came the fiasco at the Ministry. I watched him dodge spells and crashing objects, but the one thing that stuck out in my mind, was before the fight even started.

Bellatrix was taunting him. "Let him watch as we torture the little girl," she said, with a sick smile of glee, "I'll do it."

I knew Harry had stepped in front of me when she said that, but as the highlight showed him stepping in front of me, it played one of his thoughts, something I obviously had not known.

"_I won't watch her get hurt again." _All three of the beings beside me glanced over at me as it played. I pressed my lips together, and sat still. I refused to let the tears gathering in my eyes fall. I blinked them away, and dropped my chin onto my knees.

The highlight ended with Sirius's death, and Harry chasing after Bellatrix.

I was not prepared for what came next.

The view was of the Gryffindor common room. Centered on the screen, was me, my head bent over a book and a quill held between my teeth.

Romancer let out a laugh. Storyteller nudged him. I felt my jaw drop.

A sigh came from the screen. Harry shook his head, the view shifted side to side, as he stared at me. I watched him watch me, watch me set aside my book with a groan and drop my forehead onto the table. I watched him watch Dean walk over to me, and sit down in the empty chair beside me. I watched him watch Dean put an arm around my shoulders, me look up and smile stiffly at him. I heard Harry let out a huff, and he looked away, down to a textbook, open in his lap.

The highlight ended and on went the next.

Quidditch practice. Harry was sitting still in the air, watching the Chasers. His eyes followed me. Me, as I scored a goal and gave Ron an apologetic smile. Me, as I high-fived Demelza and did a loop in the air. His eyes followed me as we finished practice and touched down, as I walked off with Demelza to the changing rooms. His eyes followed me as I pressed a quick kiss to Dean's cheek, and then his gaze fell to the ground. He kicked at a pebble, and shoved his hands in his pockets. The highlight ended.

Back in the Gryffindor Common room. Harry was again watching me. This time, I was not doing homework. I was talking with Dean. I shook my head at the screen. I remembered that fight, it stuck out vividly in my mind. It was the last one we had.

"Harry, mate, its your turn."

Harry glanced down around, met eyes with Ron, and looked down at the chess board between them. He moved his bishop, taking a pawn. Ron shook his head and took his bishop with his knight. Harry sighed, moved a pawn, and looked away. Back to me, arguing with Dean. I watched myself set my mouth in a glare and ball my hands into fists. Dean said something, his voice lowered, and the me on the screen gasped, and raised a hand. I slapped him, and said, my voice loud enough to carry to Harry, "I'm sick of the excuses, Dean!"

"What do you want me to do?" Dean asked, rubbing his cheek. "I can't help it!"

"If you can't bloody well control yourself then we are done!" I snapped.

Dean squared his shoulders. "Come on, baby, you don't mean that."

"I do," I said, and I mouthed the words as Harry sat up straighter. "I'm sick of your wandering eyes, I'm sick of your flirting with other girls. I can't trust you anymore, Dean. I've told you to get it together; I've told you I won't stand here while you cheat on me, but you haven't changed. We're done."

I watched Dean step back from me. "I- you," and then he sighed. "Fine."

I watched myself step away from him, and walk away. Dean's eyes moved across the room, and locked onto Harry's. He quickly looked away, down at the chessboard between him and Ron.

"Checkmate," Ron said.

Harry blinked, staining the screen black for a second, and sighed. "I don't know why I keep playing you, Ron. You always win."

"That's why you got to keep trying," Ron said, "so you get better. Rematch?"

Harry shook his head. I watched him glance across the room again, to me, mounting the stairs to the girl's dormitories.

"No, mate," Harry said. "I'm going to bed."

And the highlight ended as the me on the screen closed the door.

I had not known he had been watching me. I had not known he had seen me end it with Dean. I felt eyes on me, and turned to face the Dreamkeeper, Romancer, and Storyteller, all watching me with interest in their eyes.

"So, young Harry was already falling for you," said Romancer. "And you didn't know it."

I nodded slowly.

"Typical," Romancer snorted. "I've seen it all the time. The stupid boy doesn't even realize he's in love, and you don't know he likes you. Just typical."

"Love?" Storyteller said, cocking his head. "I wouldn't say that at that point he was in love yet."

"Of course he was," Romancer said, "I ought to know, remember?"

Storyteller nodded. "I think he was just deeply 'in like.'"

"Well, by the time he died, he was in love," Romancer said, "so it doesn't matter."

I felt my heart skip a beat. "You think so?" I asked, in a breathless voice. He turned to me, eyebrows raised.

"Think?" he said, scoffing. "I know! Relationships are my specialty, of course. I am the Romancer."

My eyes strayed back to the screen, which was covered in static. Harry was in love with me? How could I not notice it, how could I not realize he was falling for me? After he and Ron caught Dean and me in that corridor, his attitude towards Dean changed entirely. He treated Dean like an enemy rather than a friend. I had dismissed it then as anger channeled from Ron, but now, I could see it was jealousy. After I broke up with him, he had been an entirely different person, he still was cold to Dean, but he smiled much more easily. How could I not notice it? At every meal after the breakup, Harry sought me out and saved a seat for me at the table. He walked me to my first class each day.

And the weekend he died, he asked me if I wanted to go with him to Hogsmeade. Why had I not realized he was asking me on a date? I had thought he wanted me to go with him and Ron and all. I had said no, because I had already agreed to go with my room-mates on an All-Girl's day out. Why hadn't I broken the agreement with them to go with Harry?

I bit my lip, hard. The pain in my lower lip helped distract me from the thoughts whirling through my mind.

The Dreamkeeper cleared her throat beside me. "We'll start the next highlight. This is his last day in the Mortal World, and we'll be replaying the last few moments."

I bit my lip harder. I tasted blood.

The static vanished. The screen showed Hogsmeade High Street, a group of Dementors crowded around:

"Me," I muttered.


	13. Chapter 13 Shadows

**Chapter Thirteen**

**Shadows**

Harry's eyes were fixed on the circle of Dementors. Out of the corners of his eyes, we saw Ron, and Hermione and other people staring in shock.

"Ginny!" Harry shouted; his voice was panicked.

"Ginny, get out of there!" Ron yelled.

I watched the Dementors move in closer. I saw Tom press closer to me.

"Ginny, I'm coming for you!" Harry called. He took off, the screen zooming in as he ran. I saw him raise his wand, and he bellowed: "EXPECTO PATRONUS!" I watched the silver stag erupt from his wand, and charge with its head lowered to the Dementors. They scattered; Tom stood, and ran. Harry skidded to a halt beside me, and grab my arm. I saw through his eyes, my pale face; my freckles setting a dark contrast; my wide, fearful eyes, and the wild look in them.

"Let's go," he said, glancing around. And then his gaze fixed on the other end of High Street. He stepped in front of me, so that I disappeared from view.

"Run, Ginny," he said in a low voice. "Get out of here."

"You're coming with me." I heard my voice as a rasp, thick with fear, but also with determination. I came back into view, stepping beside him.

"I have to fight him."

"I'm fighting him too, then."

"No! Run to Ron and Hermione, they'll protect you."

"Harry, you're not my father, you're not my husband, you're not my boyfriend," I said, the fear fading from my eyes, "you can't boss me."

Harry glanced at me, but before he could say anything, Voldemort reached us. I closed my eyes as he taunted Harry, as he presented Tom.

"The Angel of Death approaches," they said in creepy unison. The Dreamkeeper gasped.

"Pause," she said, and the screen froze, Tom halfway through forming a smirk.

"It can't be," said Storyteller, "it's impossible."

"He can't know," said Romancer with a scoff. "He's a Mortal Soul."

"What?" I asked, forcing my voice to stay steady.

"The Angel of Death," the Dreamkeeper muttered. "He shouldn't know about him."

"What?" I repeated, now more bemused than before. "I don't understand."

The Dreamkeeper glanced at me, then at the other two. "Are we allowed to tell her?"

"Of course we are," Romancer said, "I hate it when you insinuate there's someone in charge of us."

"The Tamed are pretty insistent we not tell her anything about the Realms," Storyteller said in a brooding voice.

"And I'm against anything the Tamed say we should do," Romancer said, slapping the ground to accent his point.

"Who's the Tamed?" I asked.

"Not who," the Dreamkeeper said, "more of a what."

"So what is it, then?" I asked, still confused.

"The Tamed are the people of the Tamed Realms," the Dreamkeeper said.

"You're Tamed people then?" I asked.

"No," Romancer said indignantly, "we're Unknowns."

"Of course," I muttered. "So what's all the fuss over 'the Angel of Death'?"

"The Angel of Death is a real Unknown," the Dreamkeeper said, "he's also called the Lord of Death."

"I still don't understand what all the fuss is about," I said, shrugging.

"That man should not know anything about the Lord of Death," Storyteller said. "The Lord of Death, along with myself, Romancer, Dreamkeeper here, the Punisher, and a few others are unknown to the Mortal World, your world. There are not even legends about us."

"I don't know," said Romancer, "the stories about Cupid remarkably resemble me."

"With the exception of Greek mythology," Storyteller corrected himself. "They knew too much for their own good."

"So?" I said. "So Voldemort mentioned him. So what?"

"So the arrival of Tom Riddle was disturbing enough," the Dreamkeeper said. "The fact that Voldemort knows about the Angel of Death means a lot of trouble for us."

"Is it possible that this Tom Riddle came from the Angel's realm?" Storyteller asked.

"They're the same person," I said, "Tom is a younger version of him."

The three 'Unknowns' glanced at each other.

"This is getting worse by the minute," Romancer groaned.

"Do you remember a moment in Lucius Malfoy's worst nightmare?" the Dreamkeeper said to me suddenly. "Voldemort said something about reviving a Horcrux?"

"Yeah," I said. "Dumbledore reckons Tom is a Horcrux that was brought to life."

The Dreamkeeper pressed a hand to her forehead wearily. "I hate it when this happens," she muttered. "Something like this always happens when someone loses their match."

"Let's just hope it's not as bad as the first time," Storyteller said, reaching across Romancer and patting her arm.

"What happened the first time?" I asked, curious.

"We can't tell you," the Dreamkeeper sighed. "Not yet, anyway. We must finish the test."

I crossed my arms over my chest. "This is the last highlight. When it's done, am I going to be sucked away or are you going to take the time to explain all this?"

The Dreamkeeper did not reply. Instead, she turned her gaze to the screen, and said, "Play."

It unfroze. Tom completed his sneer and raised his wand.

In an instant, the duel had begun. Voldemort cast spell after spell after spell at Harry, never letting up, never slowing his attack. But while I seemed focused on my duel with Tom, Harry's eyes kept flicking to me, and back to his own fight. Even once, he cast a Shield Charm in my direction. Voldemort laughed at him. And then...

I was on the ground, screaming in pain. Tom was standing over me, laughing with his wand held aloft. I pressed my lips together as I watched Tom torture me.

"The Cruciatus Curse," Romancer sighed. "It's always the Cruciatus."

Harry's eyes widened in panic. He started towards me; I saw the spell coming, but he did not, and then he was frozen. Voldemort laughed his high, cruel laugh, and Harry stayed stock still. I pressed both hands to my mouth.

I watched through Harry's eyes as Tom lifted his wand. I watched through his eyes as Tom hauled me to my feet. As Voldemort cast his curse, I closed my eyes.

The light of his spell stained my eyelids green.

"And so ends the story of Harry Potter," Storyteller said softly.

"For now," Romancer said. I opened my eyes. The screen was blank. The Dreamkeeper waved a hand and it vanished.

"We will make our decision," the Dreamkeeper said, "and when you wake, you will know if he passed or failed."

"Tell me what's so terrible about Tom being a reawakened Horcrux? Other than he's evil."

"It means a lot of work for us," Storyteller said. "We will have to find out how he got out of the Untamed Realms and figure out how to get him back in without revealing ourselves."

"I can tell you how he got out," I said. "Someone allowed themselves to be possessed by a Horcrux, and the Horcrux took over them completely. Simple as that."

"Oh, yes, I forgot you've been possessed by a Horcrux," the Dreamkeeper said.

"Lucky you," I muttered.

The Dreamkeeper turned to me with a look of mixed pity and frustration on her face.

"You need not regard the event with such contempt," she said, "you would not be who you are today if you had never opened that diary."

"What do you mean?"

The Dreamkeeper cocked her head to one side. "Think of it this way, if you had never opened the diary, you would not know your true strength. You would not know that you have the willpower to stand up to possession. You would not have strengthened to the point that you can stare danger in the face, and remain calm."

I turned away from her. "Yeah, I guess so," I muttered, not really believing her . She must have sensed this because she sighed a moment later.

"This test has been completed," she said, "though I wish I could keep you longer. You should know, Ginevra, that your experience in the Chamber of Secrets changed you for the better, even if you don't see it that way."

She stood, and I followed her. She laid one hand on my shoulder, and my surroundings faded. I closed my eyes, and when I opened them again, I was leaning against the tree, the ropes binding me in place.

"Hello?" I called. The clearing was deserted. It was nighttime, and the sky was dark. There was no moon, and the stars pale light illuminated the clearing.

"Hello?" I said again. "Bill? Hermione?"

"They're not here."

I strained against the ropes. "Who's there?"

A shadowy figure darted across the clearing, stopping in the shadow of my oak.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"You can't know me," the figure said. I decided it was a man speaking. "My name is an unspeakable one."

"What do you want?" I snapped.

He laughed. "I want many things, little child, but right now I want only one."

"Who are you?" I asked again.

"I'll give you just a little hint," he said. "I'm your worst fear."

I felt a chill come over me. "My- my worst fear?"

"And you're family's worst fears. I am everyone's worst fear."

"You're just plain fear?"

"I'm a demon, sweet child, and I want you to listen closely. You're trying to rescue your soul match from the Waiting Realm."

"So?"

"You will fail."

My heart stopped. "What?"

The man laughed. "You will give up. Leave him where he is."

"No!"

"Yes! Let him rot in his prison, let him fade away, if you want your mind to remain clean and whole."

"I can't leave Harry," I said, panic entering my heart. "I can't!"

"You can. Give up, little girl."

"I'm not a little girl," I growled.

He laughed. "You are. You're a child playing grown up. Little miss ignorant. And you'll stay that way as long as you can, won't you? Because ignorance is bliss. Do you want to know what will happen if you bring that boy's soul back? I will enter your mind, I will poison you slowly. I will create a war in your mind until the very fabric of your life crumbles. I will drive you to Insanity's Realm and back. I will break you so hard, child. Do you really wish to lose your mind, little girl?"

I strained against the ropes. "Let me go."

He laughed again. "Oh, I'll let you go. Just remember, if you rescue that boy, I will ruin you. Remember that, little child."

"I'm not a child."

"You are. You are weak, helpless. Your mind is already close to breaking. I will push you over the edge."

"I'm stronger than I look," I growled.

He laughed. "All Mortals think that. But all Mortals are easy to break."

The figure vanished, and the clearing faded. And then it was back, with the sun sinking out of sight below the trees. I looked around, and my eyes caught Bill, sitting on the ground with his back against the tree.

"Bill!" I called. He surged to his feet, wand drawn.

"Firefly," he said, a grin splitting his face. "You're awake."

"How long was I out?" I asked.

"A week again," he said. "OI! Malfoy!"

Lucius came out of the trees, and walked quickly to my side.

"How did it go?" he asked.

"Okay," I said. "Can I get out of these ropes?"

"Yes, yes, of course," Lucius waved his wand and the ropes fell away. I rubbed my arms and looked around. My eye caught on a half-moon shaped piece of glass, lying on the ground in front of me.

"We passed," I said.

Lucius followed my gaze and stooped to pick up the stained glass. This one had two figures painted on the glass, holding hands. At the top, lining the curve, were flowers.

"This looks like it could fit next to the last one," he mused.

"Where did you go?" Bill asked.

"Realm of Memories," I said.

"What did you do there?" Lucius asked, looking up.

"Proved Harry was worth rescuing," I said. I glanced around. "Where's Hermione?"

"She had to go back to Hogwarts," Bill said. "Alasdair's here, still."

"Oh."

Bill put his arm around my shoulders. "We've got to move quickly. We don't want to miss the next test."

"Can we go see Ron first?"

Lucius shook his head. "We haven't got time. These tests are set too close together for any delay."

I nodded. "Where next?"

"Ireland," he said. "To the Tomb of Godric Gryffindor."

...

That night, as Bill, Lucius and Alasdair slept, I lay awake. We would be completing the journey to Gryffindor's tomb tomorrow. Lucius had conjured a tent much like the one we had used during the Quidditch World Cup.

I was afraid to go to sleep. I was thinking of that vision or whatever it was, about the demon that had visited me. I didn't know where I would go when I slept, but wherever it was, I was sure he could find me. I had ignored his warning. I was still on my way to rescue Harry.

I was afraid of going to sleep and waking up insane. That was what he promised me. Insanity.

Bill snorted in his sleep. I sat with my back to the wall of the tent behind me. A sheet hung between me and the men. Bill had insisted on that. A candle burned on the floor by my cot, and on the other side of the sheet another candle flickered. Bill's form was clear in the light, casting its shadow on the sheet. I watched his silhouette turn over in his sleep.

I pulled the blanket around me tighter, fighting off the cold. A shadow darkened the ground at the tent entrance, I sat up straight, fear flickering in the back of my mind. A curious squirrel peered inside our tent.

"Shoo," I whispered. The squirrel darted away, into the night. I sighed, and rested my head against the tent wall. I was tense, tense enough to be afraid of a shadow. With ever second, I felt the fear gain a little more ground.

I stared into the candle's flame. It twisted and danced, shining its light around my half of the tent. The fire sent the shadows in the tent fleeing, shying away from its light. I bent, and lifted the base off the ground. I held it in my hands, the heat from the flame warming my fingers, staring at its light.

Such a simple thing, fire. Such a beautiful killer. And here it was, playing my protector.

I set the candle back on the ground, and lay down. I pulled the blankets close and watched the flame dance. A gust of wind blew into the tent, chilling me and setting the sheet shaking. The candles went out.

I scrambled for my wand. The wind died, and I found my wand lying on the ground beneath my cot.

"I warned you," a voice rumbled. "You shall pay the price."

I snatched up my wand. "Incendio," I whispered. A flame shot from my wand and caught the wick of the candle.

"I'm ignoring you," I said. "Threaten me all you want. Nothing is worse than being alone."

The voice rumbled again, as though it was laughing. "Mortals. They have such imaginations."

I raised my wand. "Lumos," I said, and the tip lit.

"You're a shadow," I said. "You can't hurt me."

The rumbling laughter stopped.

"I am a shadow now," it said, "but I will rise. I will claim this realm once more. Sleep well, child, while you can."

Wind whipped at our tent again, but I cupped the candle's flame, protecting my light from the wind. I kept my wand lit, and lay back on my cot.

"I'm not afraid of a shadow," I muttered.

"Liar," rumbled the voice softly.

I closed my eyes, and let sleep claim me.


End file.

Harry Potter, Drama, Romance