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Fighting Harry | ||||||
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Category: Post-OotP, Post-HBP Characters:All, All Genres: Drama Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: PG Reviews: 112 Summary: When Harry decides the time is ripe to search for the remaining Horcruxes, Ginny demands to accompany him. Harry refuses, and leaves with Ron and Hermione the day after his seventeenth birthday. But Ginny's not the sort of girl to wait at home. She'll do anything to prove that she can survive without Harry...even join Voldemort. When Harry's turned away, what will save her from the Dark? And what will Harry do, when he realizes his mistake? Hitcount: Story Total: 59875; Chapter Total: 4551 Author's Notes: Whew! Sorry it took me so long to update...it's been un semana larga. But I've read a few interesting books...Mansfield Park was rather disappointing; I assume it's one of those classics that have to grow on you. And I read several Meg Cabot's...some are crude, some are sweet, all are funny. |
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Chapter Eight: Snape's Plan When Hermione returned to their apartment, Harry was still occupied with Ginny’s memories, and Ron was still laying Petrified on the floor. Ginny had gone to wait for Snape, to talk to him about the best methods of getting rid of the last two Horcruxes. Hermione had to hand it to her. She was certainly being much calmer than anyone else would have been, in that situation. But she was refusing to be near Harry. Hermione reasoned that this was because she didn’t want her resolve to weaken. She also felt that Ginny thought that a slow withdrawal from him would be the best means of leaving. Hermione would give her a couple of days before telling her otherwise. She nudged the Petrified Ron with her foot, realizing that he had been laying there for hours. Most reluctantly, she pulled out her wand and released him. He moaned. “I’ve been lying there for hours,” he grumbled. “Neither you nor Harry could be bothered to help me out.” “Well, Ron, I think you deserved a few hours to sit there and think,” Hermione said sharply. “Maybe you’ve even decided to think about what comes out of your mouth before you say it, but that’s probably too much to hope for.” Ron cast her a sore look. “Not you, too. Honestly, how was I supposed to know she turned into some bloody super-witch when I turned my back?” “I think the main idea was that you turned your back,” Hermione pointed out reasonably, as he glowered. “But it’s all right. There are other things to worry about now.” “Did you know about her studying with Snape?” he asked, massaging his neck. “Or that she knew about the Horcruxes?” Hermione frowned. “I’ve known about Snape all along, it’s only recently that she told me about studying the Horcruxes. When she gave me the necklace, in fact.” “Ah. Why didn’t you tell me?” Ron asked. “Because you would have overreacted,” she ascertained. “You would have stormed about her nosing around, ranted that she trusts Snape, and rounded it all off with a declaration that all of the above proved your point about her being too young.” He looked slightly abashed. “She is too young,” he said, but softly. “Not too young to die,” Hermione told him. “You might try for a little more sympathy from now on. It’s not looking good. She told me today that–oh, never mind, you’re her brother, I can’t tell you that.” She was too tired to really think about what she was saying. “What’s not looking good? What’s she been doing?” Ron demanded, paling. “Listen, ‘Mione, I know I’m an idiot sometimes. But she’s my baby sister, and I’d do anything to keep her safe.” Hermione sighed. “There’s not much you can do now.” “Tell Harry then,” he said, determined. “If she’s in danger and you’re not telling us, then you’re not being fair to anyone, trust asides.” “It’s her choice,” she remarked quietly. “Besides, it’s not the kind of danger you can save her from.” Ron looked unconvinced. “What is it?” He was the big brother. He could save her from anything. Hermione felt something prodding in her mind, and she immediately broke her eye contact. “Harry’s been teaching you Legilimency,” she accused. She saw that Ron had paled, when she looked at him again. “Whaddya mean, 20% odds? Odds that she’s going to get hurt? Because 20% is a lot.” “That’s only her opinion,” Hermione scolded. “Don’t go poking around in my head. And those aren’t getting-hurt odds.” “What kind of odds are they, then?” Ron challenged. She stared at the wall, her intellectual brow creased by worry lines. “Those are survival odds.” “WHADDYA MEAN, MY SISTER’S GOT A TWENTY PERCENT CHANCE OF SURVIVAL???” he bellowed. Hermione winced. “Ron, please!” “You’re telling me that she’s got herself in some kind of situation where there’s an eighty percent chance that someone’s going to off her? Where is she? I’m going to kill her. Screw her pride and her cover; we’ve got to pull her out!” “You may not have to,” she replied. “But it’s not like that. No Death Eater is going to touch a hair on her head, not now. It’s like…a curse.” Ron gazed at her unbelievingly. “A curse? A bloody freaking curse!?” “Rather.” “She went and got herself put under some Death Eater’s dark magic?” he inquired. He wasn’t taking this well at all. But then again, this was his sister. He was allowed to yell. “Please, Ron, be quiet! I don’t want Harry to hear,” Hermione said, her voice filled with anguish. “She wants to tell him herself. Actually, it wasn’t some Death Eater. It was Voldemort.” “Oh?” he said. “Well, WHAT THE BLOODY HELL DID SHE DO???” “It wasn’t her fault!” her friend said, flaring up at once. “Ron–she’s a Horcrux.” Ron stopped yelling abruptly. “What?” he asked, hoarsely. “When your uncles died, Voldemort was there,” Hermione said, speaking very quickly in case he started yelling again. “So was your mother, and Ginny. Voldemort had seen visions of the future in which Ginny grew to help his enemy, and he saw her with his diary. He had been thinking about making a human Horcrux for a long time, because you can’t destroy a human like you can an object. Ginny was perfect, because she was the youngest, and everyone would want to protect her. Besides, she was right under Dumbledore’s nose, so she would make an excellent spy if she could be turned to the dark.” Ron sat down. “No–there’s got to be some mistake,” he said weakly. “It’s impossible. Ginny can’t be a Horcrux.” “That’s what I said too, Ron,” Hermione said miserably. “And then Ginny showed me the proof. It’s true; it’s real.” “I bet Snape knew, did he?” Ron said roughly. She understood him perfectly. “He stopped her from joining the Death Eaters.” He sighed. Silence fell, as he took all of it in. “I’ve been a horrible brother,” he said. Hermione protested. “No, you haven’t. A bit blind, and a bit stupid, maybe, and certainly misguided, but there was nothing you could have done for this.” “I should have known,” he protested. “When she was crying today, I should have known why, and I should have been the one comforting her.” Hermione didn’t deny it. “But it’s Harry who’s going to have the worst time with this,” Ron continued. “He loves her. He…” and Ron trailed off, with a heavy sigh. “I can’t believe this,” he said at last. He wandered into the living room, and collapsed on the couch she’d bought. Hermione followed him, and he motioned for her to sit down next to him. She did so, feeling old and tired, and placed her head on his shoulder. He slipped an arm around her, comfortingly. Suddenly, everything seemed easier to bear, though there was still a heaviness on her chest and in her heart. Ten minutes later, a sleeping Hermione didn’t know that Harry was standing up, wobbling, in the kitchen. She didn’t see him come to the doorway, and quietly observe the slumbering couple. She didn’t hear him sigh. * * * * Ginny sat across the table from Snape at eight the next morning. She had slept better than she had in weeks, strangely enough, and she was looking at everything more reasonably. “How do you destroy a human Horcrux?” she asked, musingly. He grimaced. “Are you ready to consider the possibility?” She threw him a look. “Voldemort kills people. As long as he lives, my friends and family are in danger. Do you really think I’d throw away the chance of destroying him? My life’s not worth so much.” “It’s worth more than you think,” he told her. “The Dark Lord has always held you back from achieving your full potential.” Ginny sighed. “That doesn’t help me now.” After a few minutes’ pause she repeated her question. “How do you destroy a human Horcrux?” Snape stood up and began pacing. “We know very little on the matter. There are few precedents, and the only one we have details of involved a man by the name of Diego Santona. He was a Spanish wizard, with an identical twin by the name of Juan. Now, Juan was an outlaw. He committed many crimes, and killed many wizards. It just so happened that he was captured in England–or someone who looked like him was. Diego Santona was administered the Dementor’s Kiss when mistaken for his brother, despite his attempts to explain.” “Juan was furious. He came to England to find his brother’s soulless being in prison. He killed the guards, and split his soul in the process. He made Diego a Horcrux, and in doing so restored him to independent thought and action. The brothers were so alike that their souls were very similar.” “What happened to them? How did Diego and Juan finally end?” she asked. Snape sneered. “The same way they got started. The Wizard’s Council–and the Dementors–caught up with them.” She turned pale. “So, if I put myself in the path of a Dementor–” “The Dementor would then proceed to deprive you of both your soul and the portion of the Dark Lord’s, which is unadvisable,” Snape said. “For the Dark Lord’s soul would destroy the Dementor, which feeds on emotions, for he has few and none of them are positive. It would then escape and manifest itself again in you, only without your soul to combat it.” “What do you suggest, then?” Ginny asked. Snape regarded her. “I have an idea,” he said, and for the first time, sounded unsure of himself. “If something goes wrong, as is more than likely, you will die. It has not been attempted since the time of Merlin, and we know not even if it succeeded then.” “If we do nothing at all, then I’ll have to die anyway,” she said, and her voice only shook a little. “I’d rather die attempting to live. What’s your plan?” * * * * “I need to talk to Ginny,” Harry said the next morning. Hermione looked at him. “Harry…” she said, not knowing where to begin. “Why?” His green eyes were hard, and they saw straight through her. “Why not? Because she’s off with Snape and not us! There’s no telling what he’s letting her do for the sake of the Order.” “Now you’re trying to protect her again, and that’s not what she wants at all,” Hermione pointed out logically. “Let’s focus on Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. Ginny will do her part, and we’ll do ours. It’s useful for Professor Snape to have a go-between who can communicate with the Order, and it saves lives. They make a good team; they’ve worked together studying the Dark Arts for years.” Hermione hated lying. Almost as much as she hated Ginny at the moment. Instead of being soothing, this only served to irritate him further. “How can she sit there and talk with Dumbledore’s killer? I can’t believe that she would go to work with Snape.” “She started working with him because we wouldn't let her work with us. You can hardly expect her to drop everything and come running when you call. And she knows–you should know that he would have died rather than kill Dumbledore.” “Then why didn’t he?” Harry asked nastily. “Because Dumbledore didn’t want it,” his much-tried friend simply answered. “And you know that; he left you a letter explaining it. What’s really bothering you?” As soon as she asked the question, she regretted it. She didn’t want to know. Then she would feel guilty. “I said I was sorry,” Harry said, after a few moments’ pause. “I apologized, for trying to protect her and not telling her the truth. But she left anyway. I understand–well, I’m trying to understand–that she feels some sort of…loyalty towards Snape, but still. She wouldn’t listen to me, and she seemed really upset. I don’t get it. What’s going on, Hermione? You’re always so good at explaining girls.” Hermione thought for a few moments. What Ginny needed was time, to make her next move, to plan something, to tell Harry. She needed to make sure that Ginny got that time before her lover-boy came storming in on her plans to kill herself. “Harry, I think that Ginny needs time to think,” she said at last. “Some of the wounds inflicted by your lack of trust run quite deep, especially considering how important she views trust after Tom Riddle’s betrayal. She had only just reached a place where she could trust you, and then you basically told her that you didn’t trust her to be able to take care of herself or the knowledge of the Horcruxes. Something like that doesn’t dissolve overnight. Give her time. She’s not actually angry at you. But she’s hurt, and she needs time to sort it out before she can come to terms with it.” Harry listened silently. Then he sighed. “But I don’t want to leave her with Snape, when she could be here with me.” “Trust, Harry,” his friend said. “You can start proving yourself now, by accepting that she and Professor Snape are working together as colleagues.” “All right,” he said finally. “Whatever else you can say for him, he’s good at keeping out of sticky situations. He should be able to keep Ginny out of them, too. After all, we are cousins. Good instincts run in the family, I’m sure.” She could tell that his last words cost him quite a lot of effort, and his voice was strained. Hermione nodded, and he added. “I just couldn’t stand it if anything happened to her.” Then he got up. “Well, I’m better off not being around, if I can’t do anything. This might be a good time for Ron and me to go to Albania.” “Yes,” she agreed. “It’ll help to get away from Britain for a few days. Just be careful, because Voldemort might expect you to go to Albania. Traps, and such.” Harry grinned, but it was half-hearted. “Ron’s gone to see how Fred and George are doing. I know we said a week, but he said he had something else to discuss with them anyway. I think I’ll go read the Daily Prophet until he gets back.” Hermione only mumbled assent as he walked away. That guilt? Yeah, it was pretty strong about now. * * * * Ginny expected Snape to pull out a list or a diagram explaining, in perfectly ordered steps, a foolproof outline of his plan. Instead, he considered her, his eyes glittering like beetles in the Egyptian sun. “Do you trust me?” he asked. “Of course,” she said, wondering why he needed to ask. “Why?” he inquired, bluntly. She was taken aback, but she answered not a minute later, putting a good deal of thought into her words. “Because you gave me answers when no one else would,” she told him. “Because you stopped me from making the biggest mistake of my life, when my making it would have bought you glory from your master. All my life, I’ve been the youngest Weasley. But you listened, and you gave me a chance, and you didn’t judge my by anything” She hesitated, and then added. “Because I think you’re braver than any Gryffindor has ever been.” “You court death daily, even though the people you court death for don’t know or care that you do. You were Lily Evan’s hero, and I can see why. You’re a living example of everything she and Albus Dumbledore ever stood for. I admire you. When I die, I can only hope that my life will have meant as much as yours.” Ginny stopped talking. She felt a little foolish, but she couldn’t regret what she had said. Snape, for perhaps the first time, didn’t meet her eyes. “No, you don’t,” he said, and looked up. For once, the glittering in his eyes was emotion rather than malevolence. “But you don’t know how much it means to hear you say so.” There was a pause, as both of them collected themselves. “If you agree to this, you won’t be trusting me only with your life, but with everyone else’s in the wizarding world. Including Ms. Granger’s and Mr. Potter’s, in addition to all of your family. You could kill all of them.” Ginny frowned at his words. “I would never put any of them in danger if I could use my life to protect them.” “That’s just it. If things go according to plan, you won’t have access to you life,” Snape told her. “A human Horcrux can’t be destroyed only by an act of selfless love. For the soul to be destroyed, its holder must also be destroyed by other means, because the original, complete soul within a witch or wizard responds positively to an act of love, and resists destruction because of it. So the witch or wizard’s real soul must already be gone–or unavailable. The Dark Lord, I am certain, does not know this, although it certainly works to his advantage.” He pulled a small vial out of his pocket. It was filled up halfway with a thick, pearly liquid. “Do you know what this is?” She stood up to examine it. “Smell?” she asked, because it was corked. “It’s odorless,” he replied. “Pale,” she commented, tilting the vial so that the liquid slowly rolled to a new location and back. “Thick consistency, distinctive sheen. Time put into it?” “Five years,” Snape answered her. Ginny could feel the blood drain out of her face. Snape had showed it to her class during her very first year. It had been a long time, but she recognized it. “The Draught of the Living Death.” He nodded. “Correct. Do you understand how the Draught works?” “Basically,” she replied. “The person who takes it becomes as one dead. No breath escapes his or her body, and no heartbeat betrays their existence until the potion wears off, when he or she is revived. I’ve never understood how it’s managed, though. How can a person live if their heart doesn’t beat?” Snape smiled, but there was no happiness in it. It was a predator’s smile, seeing the end of the hunt and at least looking forward to it being over at last. “What causes a person to die?” “The inability of their body to function,” Ginny said, uncertainly. “When that happens, the soul flees the body, to go–somewhere else, I don’t know. It’s a point of dispute, but it’s not really important here.” “That’s the secret of the Draught,” he told her. “It imprisons the soul and preserves the body. After a certain amount of time–or until a trigger is released–the soul is returned to the body, and breathing and blood circulating begins again.” “Where is the soul kept?” Ginny asked. Her teacher inclined his head to indicate the value of the question. “Usually in some object on the person, like a locket or a bracelet, usually attached with a Permanent Sticking Charm so as not to be lost. It is not a Horcrux, though it is similar, because the soul has not been split or broken, and so it cannot be destroyed by love–or, indeed, anything but evil.” “And how is this Draught going to help us destroy Voldemort?” Ginny asked. Snape raised an eyebrow. “I should have thought it would have been obvious.” “Well, it’s not. Not when I haven’t gotten twenty hours of sleep this week,” she snapped. “I want it spelled out.” He wasn’t offended, understanding from her tone that it was obvious and that she wanted him to tell her otherwise. “We have to make your soul unavailable so that the seventh of the Dark Lord’s can be destroyed. The Draught is a safeguard that, in addition to ensuring that, can also give us the opportunity to…make sure that your body is in a condition to have your soul returned to it.” Ginny was disturbed. “So, I’m going to be laying there like a rag doll while you drag me off to be destroyed?” “Well…it’s not quite that easy,” Snape admitted. “You see, you will have a soul to control your body. It just won’t be yours.” “Hang on,” she said, becoming seriously alarmed. “You mean Voldemort’s soul will be controlling my body? Why won’t it be sent…wherever it is that my soul is hypothetically going?” For Ginny, everything was quite firmly hypothetical. It had to be. Or she would be seriously panicking. Not that she wasn’t panicking already… “Because the Draught affects only the things keyed genetically into your DNA,” he said. “That’s a muggle term. It means hereditary, or the traits you were born with, more or less. The potion works only on that which is firmly Ginny Weasley. The Dark Lord’s soul will be perceived firmly as alien by the Draught.” “Why?” she asked. “Because it was invented for the purpose of getting rid of curses,” Snape told her. “It didn’t quite work out as such–much easier to hire a Curse Breaker. But the original purpose was to send the drinker into a sort of magical coma so that the abnormality, such as a horrific curse, could be dealt with by dire straits. It has even been tried on Werewolves, with some success. Lupin, I know, has considered it. But it is nearly impossible to get a hold of all of the ingredients, much less spend five years of your life brewing it perfectly. I have offered him some, but with everything that is going on, and considering the particular trigger attached to this batch, he has declined.” Ginny frowned. “Trigger?” “I had been brewing the Draught for three years when you came to me for help,” Snape told her. “In the last two years, I became aware of the possibility of your being a Horcrux. So I altered the potion to cease exactly one week after the defeat of the Dark Lord–to give us time to reverse any damage to your body that might interfere with your soul re-entering your body, if everything goes according to plan.” She sat down. “So if Voldemort isn’t defeated, I won’t wake up?” she asked. Snape shook his head. “If your soul returns to you before the Horcrux is destroyed then all chances of defeating the Dark Lord are slim. There are precedents. There was a princess by the name of Aurelie in France who slept under the Draught for a hundred years before her true love triggered the potion to stop working. That was a time when in France witches and wizards lived in the open, in positions of respect. The king and queen slighted a powerful witch who lived to the north by not inviting her, and three local witches gave her the Draught to keep Aurelie from dying under the stronger witch’s curse.” “Sleeping Beauty,” Ginny breathed. “Of course.” Then she remembered what he’d said about Voldemort, and her voice became as smooth and as venomous as the black mamba that was her second form. “Now, what about the Dark Lord possessing me?” Snape looked tense. “Your body will still have the potential to move about, to breathe, to eat, drink, sleep. Under the Draught, it lacks only the motivation, because the mind, body, and soul have been shut down. There are spells one can use, similar to those used to make Inferi, to make your muscles function. There are also spells in obscure branches of Legilimency that can partially activate the mind. And you shall have part of Tom Riddle’s soul to direct your senses and speech.” “But why?” she demanded, shaking under the idea of Riddle possessing her. She’d vowed to herself long ago that she would never again be a tool of Voldemort. “Because otherwise you will be a virtual corpse,” Snape snapped. “And we will be forced to lug you around and orchestrate for some kind of unplanned sacrifice to be attended by a cadaver. And then there is the matter of Nagini. It would be impossible for any of the Order to get near the snake or the Dark Lord without aid. I could do it, but then who would help Potter get to the Dark Lord in the end, before the Dark Lord gets to him? You, on the other hand, are free to join the Death Eaters and devise some sort of way to destroy the snake. You will not be killed for it, because the Dark Lord will never endanger a Horcrux.” Ginny’s heart skipped a beat, and the bottom dropped from her stomach. He was right. If anyone was to do it, then it had to be her. “But will Riddle, if he possesses me, want to kill Nagini? There would be no reason for him to do so.” Snape shook his head. “You’re basing everything off of your experience with the diary. The Dark Lord wrote in that diary. He wrote his memories, and his character, and his beliefs. That was what allowed him to form plans, and opinions. He was using the diary as a sort of information mine, which told him his objective, and, when he came into your mind, allowed him to form new objectives from his available opinions.” “The soul is separate from the mind. It cannot think. He will use your mind–but he will not have access to his own intellect, his own memories. All he will have are your memories. However, his soul is evil, and it will make choices based on your mind and your memories that are based on the twistedness of his character. Still, we can manipulate those choices by choosing what information is available to him. A well-placed thought, such as ‘My master loves the snake more than he does me,’ might well work wonders.” “Your mind knows Occlumency, and his soul has the magic for it. You will not have access to your own magic, but any piece of his soul has magic of its own–magic you have never chosen to employ. But no matter now; your brain and his character will undoubtedly hide your hatred of Nagini from him, and his soul will overcome any other regards you hold. The Dark Lord’s Horcruxes, if given opportunity, will work to overthrow him, for once anything is split, its interests are divided, and it is in his nature to be selfish. The different Horcruxes, if they were able, would see each other as competitors.” Ginny broke in at this point. “But won’t Voldemort know I’m…not myself?” “Hopefully, he will only think that his soul is overcoming yours. He is vain, and that is a shortcoming. But his Horcruxes too are vain, and yours will not want him to know the details of its control, for it is in his nature also, to act in secrecy.” She rubbed her head. “This is mind-boggling.” Snape looked at her with pity. “If it was easy, the Dark Lord would have been destroyed long ago.” “There’s no way of ensuring I’ll destroy the snake,” she stated. “With Voldemort’s soul, I’m not likely to make any love-sacrifices.” He shook his head. “No, but hopefully you can at least make enough noise that someone else can get close enough to kill Nagini as a sacrifice for wizarding kind. I believe that would work.” “This is insane,” she burst out. “Why would I even be a Death Eater then?” Snape looked as if he didn’t want to answer. “Because in addition to making noise, that should draw one or more of your brothers into pulling some Potter-worthy nobility stunt to return you to your senses–which should in turn destroy the Horcrux.” Before he finished, Ginny was protesting. “No! I’m not letting my family try to rescue me! They would die, because it’s impossible. If any of them got near Death Eaters, they’d be overwhelmed and killed.” Her former professor stood up, violently. “People are dying in a muggle orphanage raid as we speak,” he told her. “Lily’s been dead for sixteen years now. People are going to die. The longer the Dark Lord is in power, the higher the death-toll will mount. Sacrifices must be made. Seeing as you’re a Horcrux, at least one of them will have to be for you. If we’re fortunate, we might be able to time an Order ambush around then and save the person involved from being killed. Of course, then other Order members will die, but that’s inevitable at this point. This is war. If anything goes wrong–anything at all–Potter will be the first person that doesn’t make it. And you’ll be the second.” Ginny didn’t answer. The emotion in Snape’s voice reminded her that he had lost nearly everyone who meant anything to him. Lily–his cousin and his best friend. For her he had abandoned his friends: Bellatrix, Rodolphus, Barty, Antonin…And then Dumbledore, his protector, was gone as well, and with him any hope of being recognized by the Order… Snape was right. She couldn’t try to protect her family, not when her destruction was necessary for Voldemort’s. They had to do anything that they could. Even if that meant making innocent people become like Aztec sacrifices to the gods. Had their shamans felt any guilt? Or did they just consider the people’s deaths a necessary price for peace and prosperity? Finally, she spoke, in a small voice. “Will I know what’s happening, after I take the Draught?” Her teacher shook his head. “It will be like sleeping. You–Ginny Weasley, as considered your consciousness and actual self–will be dead to the world.” She shuddered. “When should I take the Draught?” she asked, shakily. Everything in her world depended on the answer. He avoided her eyes, oddly. “It needs to be as soon as possible. The next Death Eater meeting approaches, and that would be a good time to introduce you…” After five years of acquaintance, she recognized that he was stalling. “When?” she repeated, not moving her gaze. Snape looked up, and his expression was grim. “Tonight.” |
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