Ginny's Fourth Year, Chapter Seven
Title: Ginny's Fourth Year (07)
Rating: PG-15
Words: 2771
Chapter Seven: Afterwards, and The Plot Thickens Again
Voices--there were voices.
"Why can't we see her?" "Let me see my sister!" Loud, angry, from far away.
"Where's Pomfrey?" Sharp, scathing.
"Here, Severus. Really, don't shout." Quick, purposeful.
"Child, can you hear me?" Quiet, close. Gentle.
"What's going on in there?" "Is she back?" "Did she get him?" Babble, still far away.
A bright light pierced through her eyelids, and she shut them tight. "Too bright..." Ginny mumbled. "Too loud..."
"Someone turn down the lights!" That purposeful voice again.
"And shut the door, Miss Granger! You're a prefect, control them!" The scathing, biting voice.
"Nox."
A slam. Some unintelligible words in a high female voice.
Quiet.
Much better now. Definitely better.
Ginny opened her eyes and saw a kindly face with piercing blue eyes and a long silver beard peering down at her. Half-moon spectacles, crooked nose. I know who he is. I'm sure of it...
"Professor Dumbledore?" she asked croakily.
"Ahh, Miss Weasley, you are back."
The events of the past hour flooded through her and she sat up abruptly. "Harry!" she gasped, as the world swam in front of her. "Where's Harry?"
"Sleeping normally, Miss Weasley." Dumbledore smiled at her. "Congratulations."
"Oh, good..." She was asleep before her head hit the pillow.
* * *
When Ginny awoke next, it was nighttime. The infirmary was deserted, except for the bed next to her. Harry.
He was lying down, but his eyes were open, facing her.
"You're awake," he said. His voice was rusty.
"So're you," she grinned.
He didn't smile.
"You okay?" she asked, feeling a little silly.
"Why did you bring me back?"
"Huh?" Ginny didn't know what to do. To be honest, she'd expected some form of gratitude, not this hostile, sullen boy who was now sitting on the side of his bed, staring at her accusingly.
"Why did you bring me back?" It was spat, angrily and viciously.
"I--er--what do you mean?" Where was the Boy Who Lived, whom she had Saved From A Most Terrible Fate and was now supposed to at least appreciate her, if not Love Her For All Eternity? Yes, she was a bit selfish for even thinking this, but this was most definitely Weird.
Harry got out of bed, his feet bare, and placed his hands menacingly on the side of her cot. It didn't help that he was now quite tall and that her cot was only a foot or two off the ground.
The cot wobbled. She shivered.
"Did it ever occur to you that I might not want to wake up?" he whispered, biting off each word.
Ginny closed her eyes. She had to be dreaming. The Harry she'd talked to in the Pensieve was nothing like this--this monster now leaning over her threateningly.
"Answer me!" He might have well shouted, for all the anger he managed to put into his whisper.
Ginny shook. "No..." she breathed, gazing into his twisted face with uncomprehending fear.
There was a long pause while he stared at her, his impossibly green eyes almost glowing with rage. "Damn you," he muttered. He pulled out his wand and she gasped.
It was too late. "Crucio!"
It was like white-hot knives into every inch of her flesh, burning, twisting. Her nerves shrieked and her voice echoed, the cries of pain ricocheting off the walls and ceiling of the infirmary. She fell to the stone floor, the impact sending waves of pain coursing through her bones.
Somewhere far away, she registered Harry standing over her, his wand pointed at her, while he laughed. He laughed, a high, cold laugh that reminded her far too forcefully of Tom Riddle.
Then there were running footsteps, slamming doors, and cries of "Stupefy!" mingled with the laughter and her screams.
Ginny whimpered and curled up into a ball on the floor as the curse left her. Aching all over, she just wanted to sink into comfortable oblivion.
"My God, Albus! It's Harry!" exclaimed McGonngall, who reached them first.
"Stop!" Dumbledore ordered sharply.
McGonngall's bedtime slippers--tartan, Ginny noticed, in a red fog--stopped a few feet from her.
"Keep out of the pentagram!" His voice carried more power than Ginny had ever heard in a human voice.
"The pentagram? Oh, gods, the pentagram..." Professor McGonngall's voice trailed off in horror as she picked up Harry and deposited him just outside the glowing line on the floor.
What was it Dumbledore had said about the pentagram? Ginny's pain-overloaded mind tried to recall the pentagram...
Oh, yes--to keep the other out. Nicholas and His Demon, that bedtime story.
Ginny's mind fought the rising panic. Demons and I'm inside the pentagram swirled around her mind, blocking out all rational thoughts. She could feel the tightness in her chest beginning, and her breathing became rapid as the tears fell. That was Tom. A choked sob echoed into the silence.
"Mobilicorpus." Dumbledore levitated her out of the pentagram and onto a bed, far away from the pentagram.
"Get Pomfrey," he ordered. McGonagall hurried away, her slippers shuffling.
As he neared the bed, Ginny shut her eyes, ashamed of her weakness.
"Miss Weasley?" he asked gently.
She could only shake. The blankets tucked themselves around her.
"That wasn't Harry, Miss Weasley."
Her breath came in shuddering gasps before she could manage, "I know," into the pillow.
There was a long silence, then Dumbledore reached out and put a hand on her back. She stiffened. "Still in pain?" he asked quietly.
Ginny could only nod. "Madame Pomfrey should be here soon--ah, Poppy, good."
"Albus--what happened?"
"Cruciatus."
Ginny couldn't see it, but memories of her previous stays in the Hospital Wing filled in the picture of Madam Pomfrey's thin-lipped expression. "You can tell me how later. Out, Albus!" she barked. "I will fetch you when she can talk!"
"Wait," Ginny said, her voice sounding strange.
"Yes?" asked Dumbledore, pausing on his way to the door.
"Please don't tell Ron about--about Harry..." she asked, meeting his gaze.
He studied her briefly, then nodded once and continued out the door.
"Now, Miss Weasley, drink this..." Ginny surrendered herself to Madam Pomfrey's ministrations.
* * *
Ginny awoke sometime during the day feeling much better, though weak. She rather thought someone had been holding her hand and had let go the moment she stirred. She turned.
"Hi, Ginny." It was Neville.
"Oh, hi, Neville!" She was very glad it wasn't Ron or Hermione, or worse, Harry.
"Are you--are you doing okay?" he asked. "You slept through all of Sunday..." He sounded slightly concerned.
"Uh, yeah, I'm doing okay." She glanced at him. "Aren't you supposed to be in class?" she asked.
"I'm skipping." He looked positively impish.
"Neville!" Although the impishness was really cute...
"Dumbledore said I could!" he replied petulantly. "Besides, it's History of Magic, and--"
She glared at him.
"Oh, that's right, you like History of Magic." He looked at her as though she were from another planet.
Ginny felt a deep-seated happiness wash over her. It was nice, being with Neville. He was completely unthreatening, completely unassuming, and completely un-famous. And completely unrelated to her.
"I'm glad you're here, Neville," she said suddenly.
He smiled, a rather nice smile, she thought.
"Look, Neville," she began seriously, "what did Dumbledore tell everyone?"
"About Saturday night?" She nodded. "Well, he said that you'd managed to get Harry back, you'd been through a lot, and you were recovering."
"Then how did you manage to get down here?"
"Actually, Dumbledore asked me just outside of class if I wanted to. I was running late already--couldn't find my socks--and Binns probably wouldn't miss me anyways. I'll get notes from Hermione, if I need to."
"So Ron wasn't around?"
He looked surprised at her urgent tone. "No, actually. It was just us two in the corridor. Funny, now that you mention it, why isn't Ron here? I mean, he's your brother..."
Ginny gestured for Neville to lean closer. "Promise me you won't tell anyone about this," she said in a low voice. He nodded fervently. She checked the Infirmary. There was no one there, not even Harry. "Last night, Harry put Cruciatus on me."
Neville went completely white. "Harry?" he squeaked.
"Well, I think it was To--a--a demon"--she didn't want to tell him who she really thought it was--"in Harry's body--they forgot to erase the pentagram when we came back through, and some...thing came back with him." She shuddered, remembering those glowing eyes.
"Oh, Ginny..." he breathed.
She found herself rambling. "It was like knives in my skin--and it wouldn't stop, even when he was stunned. It was horrible. I just wanted to curl up and die." She gulped and continued, "And the worst part of it was that he looked like Harry, sounded like Harry, and--gods--even smelled like him. But then, when he laughed--I knew it wasn't Harry. It was like first year, all over again..."
Neville reached over and hugged her. "I know," he said softly, after a minute or two. "I know how it is."
She pulled away. "How can you know?" she asked, suddenly angry. "How can you know what it's like to see the world you took for granted turned into your worst nightmare?"
"Because that's what happened to my parents," he said simply.
She looked at him in amazement, suddenly comprehending. "You live with your grandmother!" she breathed. "What happened? Are they--"
"They're in St. Mungo's. They don't recognize me. They're timid and shy and the most Mum does is give me Drooble's wrappers. I have a jar in my room full of them. Gran doesn't like it, but it's the only connection I have."
Ginny gazed at him in horror.
"They were tortured," he continued. "Some old Death Eaters thought my father knew where You-Know-Who was, and tortured him... and when he wouldn't tell, they turned on Mum... I was watching through the door, they didn't know I was there... she screamed and screamed, and they kept hitting her with it whenever she said she didn't know." His gaze was faraway. "No blood, Ginny. There was never any blood, just the screams. They went on and on, for eternity. And there was one Death Eater that kept laughing... he never used his wand, I guess he was keeping watch, he was real young... but he just watched and laughed..."
They held each other tightly for a long time.
* * *
By afternoon, Ginny was feeling much better. Lunch with Neville, plus their chat, made her feel ready to face Dumbledore, so she went up to his office. He was sitting behind his desk, drinking tea, and reading through a stack of papers as high as her bed in Gryffindor tower. When she took a seat, nervously, he glanced up and smiled.
"Miss Weasley," he said, twinkling. "Would you like to talk to me?"
"Uh, yes, Professor Dumbledore," she said, suddenly nervous.
"Tea?" he asked, as she shifted in her chair.
"No thanks, sir," she said. It's now or never, she thought grimly, and began.
The whole of the Pensieve experience, plus the incidents afterward, took perhaps a quarter hour to relate, and Dumbledore was quiet the entire time, nodding and listening closely. When she finished, he set down his tea and stood up.
"I am glad that you were able to convince him to return, Miss Weasley, and your hypothesis is correct--that was indeed an echo of Voldemort. He must have followed Harry through the Pensieve, and when the pentagram was left intact, he could enter. Unfortunately, both of you were inside it." He stroked Fawkes, who was looking a little tattered, absently.
"Sir?" she asked.
"Yes?"
"Did you hide Neville's socks this morning?"
He twinkled at her. "I rather thought that Mr. Longbottom's company would be welcome."
Ginny nodded, a faint smile at the corners of her mouth. "And what--what do my parents know?"
"I will write them to explain that you managed to pull Harry out of his coma through hard work, and your Special Award for Services to the School will be engraved by the end of November."
A small measure of pride flooded her. And relief, that her parents wouldn't know how much she'd risked--and what Harry (no, Ginny! Voldemort!) had done.
"Sir?" she asked again. "Where is he? Harry, I mean?"
"In McGonagall's office. He spent Sunday sleeping, under close surveillance."
"Can I--can I talk to him?"
"If you would like, I will go get him," Dumbledore replied calmly.
She thought hard for a minute. On the one hand, she was sure it would be a very healthy thing to do. On the other, seeing those green eyes again... she wasn't so sure. "Will you please stay with us?" she asked finally.
He nodded, and left the office. Ginny gazed around, and went over to Fawkes. "Close to Burning?" she asked him softly. He made a soft noise, and the knot in her stomach began to unwind. His head nudged her palm and she obediently stroked him, relaxing slightly. The door opened, and Ginny jumped.
Harry entered the room, dressed in Muggle clothes. He didn't meet her eye as he took a chair near Dumbledore's desk. Ginny wondered briefly for a minute at the clothes, but figured she could ask him later. For now, she just needed answers.
Dumbledore faded gently into the background as Ginny girded her loins (such as they were) and approached Harry. It wasn't him, she told herself firmly. It was Tom, not Harry.
She opened her mouth, but Harry spoke first. "I'm sorry, Gin," he said quickly, the words spilling out. "I don't know what happened--one moment I was falling off my broom, with Voldemort in my head, then the next I woke up next to you, angry..." He trailed off, clearly horrified.
All the speeches Ginny had been mentally rehearsing left her in that moment. "You don't remember it?" she whispered. "Me and you, in the Pensieve, those visions...?"
Harry shook his head, then spoke quickly. "I'm leaving this school," he said. "Voldemort's coming after me, and I don't want to put yo--anyone in danger again." His voice was cold and stony.
"I'm afraid, Mr. Potter, that I will not allow it," Dumbledore interrupted. "You will stay, and continue your classes, and, yes, take your O.W.L.s in the spring along with your classmates." He waved aside Harry's stammers of protestation. "I will not let you leave Hogwarts until you are a trained wizard. You will not run away from this, Harry," he said sternly.
"But--I put Cruciatus on Ginny!" he exclaimed.
"You didn't," Dumbledore insisted. "Voldemort did."
"But it was me!" Harry was becoming hysterical. "There wasn't any Imperius--I was just angry because--because--I don't even know why, now! But Voldemort was nowhere near me! And if Ron knows that I put an Unforgivable on his sister, he'll kill me!"
"You were possessed," said Dumbledore firmly. "If you ask Miss Granger, I am confident she will inform you of the key signs of possession, one of which is believing your actions to be reasonable at the time. You are not responsible for your actions, Mr. Potter, and I will not let you leave this school." He regarded Harry for a moment, his blue eyes burning into Harry's sullen green ones. "Furthermore, you are out of uniform. You will find McGonagall waiting for you outside my office. Dismissed."
Harry stared at him for a minute, then looked at Ginny, imploring her with his eyes to let him go. For her part, she thought it was selfish of Harry to run away and let Voldemort come after him alone. Didn't he realize that the entire wizarding world relied on him as a symbol of goodness, as a symbol of Voldemort's mortality? That because Harry had once lived, while Voldemort fell, Harry was the only thing standing between them and panic? If Harry left to fight Voldemort alone, he would not live. He had survived in the past, yes, but only because Hogwarts was there to protect him. Fawkes brought him the sword in the Chamber of Secrets. The Portkey tuned to the school was the only reason he got away last spring. And, if the stories Ron told her were true, Dumbledore himself had saved Harry from his own magical efforts to kill Quirrel-cum-Voldemort in his first year.
"You're not leaving, Harry," she said resolutely.
His expression flickered into anger for a minute before settling into one of stony blankness. He turned and left.
* * *
Notes: Thanks to all the reviews I've gotten! Feel free to give me suggestions, comments, criticism, anything. I live for your thoughts. *bows*
Chapter Eight