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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: 167851; Chapter Total: 4932





Author's Notes:
Don't forget to review!




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Chapter Sixteen

Faith's Plea


I stood before a table, laden with cauldron and potion ingredients. The cauldron was empty. I turned slowly on the spot, looking around.

“Why am I in the Potions classroom?” I asked.

“You are either very brave, or very stupid,” said the woman's voice. “As for your question, did your guide not tell you you would be preparing a potion?”

“Well, yeah, he did, but he didn't say anything about doing it here, in my Potions classroom,” I said. “Don't you have your own Potions room?”

“Bah. Did you listen to your guide? Didn't he say that this is the tomb of Godric Gryffindor?”

“He did-”

“So you did not make the connection from potion to Gryffindor?”

I shook my head. “What does Godric Gryffindor have to do with potions?”

“He was the greatest potion maker of his time!” the woman said, her voice was exasperated. “Surely this has made it through history.”

Again, I shook my head. “I always thought Gryffindor was a Defense teacher.”

“That he was,” the voice said. Her voice softened as she went on. “He was a brilliant teacher of every fighting style, sword, wand, spear, bow and arrow, you name it. He was a great man. A good man. He was also brilliant at creating potions. He created many of the potions you use to this day. The Wide-Eye potion, for example. Strengthening Solutions. Many, many of your potions were created by Godric.”

“So I'm making a potion as the seventh test?” I said.

“No.”

“Then what am I doing here?” I said, getting frustrated. “Am I here for a history lesson?”

“No, child. You are here to make a potion, yes. But not for a test. The potion you are to make is called Faith's Plea.”

“Say what?”

“Faith's Plea, fool!” the woman snapped. “Faith's Plea is the original Arising Potion.”

“Arising what?”

“The Potion your infamous Lord Voldemort used to return his soul to a proper body.”

I stiffened. “What do you mean?”

“Faith's Plea is how you will pull your match back to your world.”

“Hang on, hang on, let me figure this out,” I said. “I'm going to make a potion called Faith's Plea, which is now called the Arising Potion and it's the potion Voldemort used to return?”

“Yes.”

“I have to bring Harry back with the same potion Voldemort used?” I said. A flicker of fear sprang up in my chest. “Wormtail cut off his hand for that potion.”

“No, not the same potion. This potion is the potion Godric created to bring back his soul match. The Arising Potion was created using the same concept of Faith's Plea, but twisted so that instead of using the living match to bring back the dead one, someone who was not a Fidelis Anima would use an object called a Horcrux to return.”

My blood chilled. “A Horcrux?”

“Yes, it is an evil item. A dark wizard may-”

“It's an enchanted object in which a wizard hides a piece of his soul,” I said. “I know.”

Silence. Then, “Perhaps you do have some real intelligence in you.”

“So Horcruxes were based off of Fidelis Animas?”

“Yes.”

“And the potion Voldemort used, the Arising Potion, that was based off the potion I'm supposed to make?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, boy,” I muttered. “This just gets better and better.”

“Where is the body of your match?”

“At Hogwarts.” Sudden panic filled me. “Do I need to have his body with me?”

“No, the Angel of Death will send his soul to where it needs to go. If you succeed.”

“If?”

“It will depend on whether you are of sound mind at the end of the potion or not.”

“WHAT?”

“If you survive the plea, then you win. Your match's soul returns to his body and you live happily ever after. But only if you can survive the plea.”

“And I'm doing this now? There- there's no more tests or special realms I have to visit? I just do this?”

“Yes, stupid girl. I doubt you'll succeed, but perhaps you have more surprises up your sleeve.”

I ignored the insult. I stepped up to the potion table and looked at the many plants, herbs, dead bugs, and other things littering the table's surface.

“What first?”

“Start a fire under the cauldron.”

I drew my wand.

“Incendio,” I whispered. A burst of flames shot from my wand and lit the kindling beneath the cauldron.

“Pour the griffin milk into the cauldron.”

I lifted a jar labeled 'Griffin Milk.' “Griffin milk? What's that supposed to be?”

“A mixture of their urine and smashed eyeballs.”

“What?” I said, and I set down the jar very quickly.

“No, idiot, it's milk! You know, the stuff the mother's produce to feed their young?”

“Oh.” I picked up the jar again. “How much?”

“Pour slowly, until I tell you to stop.”

“Okay,” I said. And I slowly poured the white liquid into the cauldron, until the voice called “Stop!”

“Now what?”

“Crushed violets.”

I looked around. I found more squat, square sided jar with a wide cork lid labeled 'Crushed Flower Heads, Violet' and picked it up. “This?”

“Yes. Open it.”

I did, and coughed as a plume of sickly sweet dust splashed my face. “Right. How much?”

“Two scoops.”

“Using what?”

“Your hand, fool.”

I sighed. “This whole insulting thing is getting annoying.”

“Oh, really? Did you think I was doing it to please you? Just put two handfuls into the cauldron, girl!”

I frowned, though I didn't have anything physical to frown at, and put my hand into the jar. The crushed flower heads were gritty under my skin, and for some reason, warm. I put two handfuls in and set the jar back.

“One pinch of powdered moonstones next.”

I found the box of powdered moonstones and added one pinch.”

“Now a palm full of sunflower seeds.”

Sunflower seeds? I raised my eyebrows but obeyed. The sunflower seeds surprisingly smelled delicious, and after putting the palm full in, I pulled more out of the box and raised them to my mouth.

“No! Drop it. No food for you until the job's done.”

I scowled, but dropped the seeds back into the box and put it down.

“You must fast until the plea is complete. Next on the list is water from the river Rubicon.”

I paused. “Rubicon? Wasn't there some big myth about that?”

“No, but there's a saying. 'Crossing the Rubicon.' Heard of it?”

“Isn't that supposed to mean that there's no going back from whatever you're talking about?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” I found the jar of Rubicon water after a minute of searching, behind a large box labeled 'Bear Claws'. “What's so special about this?”

“The water is charged with magic.”

“Oh really? So if I drank it, I'd get super powers or something?”

“No, but it would probably kill you.”

I turned to the cauldron. “So why am I putting in a potion that I'm guessing I have to drink?”

“You don't have to drink it, stupid, you have to inhale the fumes.”

“Great. Inhale the fumes of the poisonous potion. Much better.”

“Just pour the jar in.”

“All of it?”

“Yes,” the voice sighed in exasperation.

I emptied the jar of Rubicon water into the cauldron. “What's next, then?”

“Fresh mint leaves. Crush up fifteen in the mortar and add them.”

I glanced around. Mint leaves, mint leaves, where were the mint leaves? I found their jar hiding behind the cauldron and opened it. The smell hit my nostrils and I felt tension leave my shoulders. The smell was quite relaxing. I counted out fifteen of the fresh smelling leaves. I let their scent clear my mind as I crushed them into a paste. I scooped it into the cauldron and set the mortar down.

Half an hour later, I had added a whole bunch of stuff. Re'em blood- which didn't smell any better than when Lucius used it, phoenix feathers, horse hairs, more flower things, both fresh and dried, dragon scales, powdered dragon teeth, dragon blood, even a sticky slimy dragon heart. I didn't want to know how long it had been sitting there, but it felt cool in my hands. I had to measure everything with my hands, be it flowers or beetle eyes or blood, unless the voice told me to just keep putting it in until she said 'stop.'

At the moment, I was pulling sticky flobberworm mucus from a box. I tried not to barf. I was sure that if I threw up in the cauldron, I'd have to start from the beginning, and endure twice the insults.

Finally, the voice said “That's enough.”

I wiped the slime off my fingers. Flobberworm mucus was NOT a pleasant thing to deal with under normal circumstances, but when you had to measure it with your hands? Disgusting.

“Very good. You are almost done.”

I picked my wand up gingerly and vanished the mucus off my hands. “Good,” I said, turning my wand on my jeans and siphoning off the filth. “What's left?”

“The final ingredients. Do you know what they are?”

I froze up. Blood, bone, and flesh. Wormtail had cut off his hand to raise Voldemort. He'd taken blood from Harry and used bone from Voldemort's father's grave.

“What do you mean?”

“You need a drop of your blood and your match's mother must breathe on the surface of the potion.”

I felt my limbs unlock. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I felt relieved that I didn't have to cut off my hand, but it was outweighed by a sense of hopelessness.

“Breath from Harry's mother?” I repeated. “She's dead. I'll never get him back.”

“Yes, you will, Ginny.”

I frowned. This voice was different. It was not the annoying, condescending voice that had been instructing me. It was kinder, gentler, still a woman's voice, but radically different from the voice.

“Who-”

“Damn it, I told you to wait,” the voice said.

“You said wait until she was ready for the final ingredients,” said the second, more sweet voice.

“The breath comes last, she's not ready for you yet!”

“Actually, the blood goes last.”

The voice growled, and snapped back. “Fine. Go. Cheer her up.”

“I'm sorry,” I called.

“You should be,” the voice interrupted.

I ignored her. “I've been to the Realm of Dreams, and the Realm of Memories and back, I've met the Dreamkeeper, the Storyteller, the Romancer, and the Punisher, I've been hit by lightning and watched my best friend and only soul mate die before I could tell him I- I loved him; would someone just tell me what the hell is going on?!”

Both voices were quiet a moment. Then, “I didn't realize she had decided she loved him yet,” the second voice said.

“It must have happened just now,” the voice said. “I'm surprised. I thought she was going to lie to herself a little longer.”

I clenched my teeth. I chose to ignore the fact that I hadn't realized I really truly one hundred percent head over heels loved him until I had said that I did. No need to make the voice think I was more of a child than she already did.

“Go,” the voice said, “before I decide to send that girl to meet her match.”

The death threat left me a little disconcerted. Then, a glimmer of light on my left caught my attention. Then the glimmer turned into a shape, and then a figure.

And then a woman stood there, smiling at me.

She was my height, and slender, but I could see hard muscles in her arms. She wore a long white robe, the sleeves long and falling like a water fall to the ground, her hair was long and a rich shade of red, like mine, but darker. In fact, she looked a lot like me, her face was heart-shaped like mine and her nose turned up at the end like mine did and the she had the same playful glitter in her eyes that I had had. The glitter I had before Harry was killed. But her eyes were bright green. Just like Harry's had been.

“Hello, Ginny Weasley,” she said, a kind smile crinkling the corners of her eyes. “I'm-”

“Oh for heavens sake, you ridiculous girl, give up the drama!” the voice snapped. “Ginny, meet the dead mother of your match, Lily Potter. Lily, meet Ginny, you're son's only hope. Get on with finishing that potion already.”
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