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SIYE Time:12:08 on 29th March 2024
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After
By Senator of Sorcery

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Category: Alternate Universe, Asylum Challenge (2013-3), Asylum Challenge (2013-3)
Characters:Albus Dumbledore, All, Draco Malfoy, Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Lily Potter, Luna Lovegood, Minerva McGonagall, Other, Ron Weasley
Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, Romance
Warnings: Dark Fiction, Death, Disturbing Imagery, Violence
Story is Complete
Rating: PG-13
Reviews: 105
Summary: *** Winner of Best Overall, Best Drama and the People’s Choice Award in the Asylum Challenge ***
*Nominated for 2014 April/May and November/December DSTA for Best Romance and Best Drama* *Nominated for 2016 January/February DSTA for Best Drama and Best Completed*

Ginny's plans for the weekend were just perfect: a day out in Hogsmeade with her girlfriends. Spend the morning window shopping and wishing, then lunch at the Three Broomsticks, and then to the local theater for a production of the Scottish Play (Macbeth).


Unfortunately, the bad luck of the Scottish Play strikes before it even starts. The village is invaded by Death Eaters, Dementors, and a man she had hoped to never see again in her life.


And in the middle of the battle, Ginny sees something she'd never thought she'd see. Voldemort and one of her greatest friends dueling; Harry Potter and Voldemort fighting so fiercely, she lost focus on her own battle. Harry Potter, crying out, falling, and hitting the ground. Dead.

And then, someone she never expected to help her saves her from Voldemort’s wrath.
Hitcount: Story Total: 167866; Chapter Total: 5505





Author's Notes:
Warning: three deaths in this chapter, and one's suicide.




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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!”

*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


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.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*

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.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*~*~*


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.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

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.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*


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.’
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