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Shadow of the Serpent | ||||||
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Category: Post-OotP Characters:Harry/Ginny Genres: Action/Adventure Warnings: Death, Extreme Language, Violence Story is Complete Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 537 Summary: **June Dumbledore Silver Trinket Award Winner for Best Angst, and May winner for Best Author** Harry is whisked away to an ancient island to be trained in Occlumency. What he finds is another complication to add to his already complicated life. Will friendship, love, loyalty, bravery, and honor be enough to save him from the Shadow of the Serpent that haunts his life? H/G angst/action adventure. Hitcount: Story Total: 152075; Chapter Total: 5395 Awards: View Trophy Room |
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Disclaimer: The characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made off this story. It is for entertainment purposes only. “Lost” Every part of Stephen’s body hurt, mostly because he was bone weary from weeks of sleepless nights and restless days. It had been almost eight months since Harry’s disappearance… eight months of worry and guilt. Eight months of searching. Somehow he had managed to keep his classes going with the help of the entire Hogwarts staff and Hermione Granger who had graciously accepted a position as a teacher’s assistant, marking the parchments of the lower years and freeing him to track down every lead possible — not that there were many. Every chance he got, Stephen was out looking for signs of Harry, but so far there had not much to go on. Only rumours, innuendo… speculation — none of it good. The night Harry had disappeared from the vicinity of his aunt and uncle’s ruined home Stephen had made it to the park just in time to see the last of the Death Eaters Disapparate. He had tried to stun one in the hopes that he or she could provide them with information on where they had taken Harry but the spell had grazed through the air, missing the intended victim by millimetres. When Stephen had stopped cursing and Remus had effectively calmed him down enough, they had done everything in their power to try and locate Harry but came up solidly empty. Severus had been in the cavern where Podmore and the others had taken Harry, but when the place had started to come down he had fled, coming to the Order for reinforcements. By the time they had gotten there both Harry and Voldemort were gone. A knock at his office door roused him from his brooding. With great reluctance he pulled himself out of his chair and made his way to the door. “I have the First Year’s essays marked Professor Hunter,” Hermione Granger said, handing him a stack of parchments. Her neat handwriting could be seen on the top paper, making useful comments in the margins. As usual, it seemed she had efficiently organized the essays according to the marks she would expect the students to be assigned. All Stephen had to do at this point was look over the essays and assign a grade to the papers. He’d found early on that Hermione had a good instinct for determining the credit a student should earn for their work, and he trusted her judgment. “Thank you, Miss Granger,” he said earnestly, taking the stack out of her hand. “You are a godsend.” She blushed at the praise. “I like feeling useful,” she said with a small smile but her expression immediately turned anxious. “Has there been any news?” Stephen shook his head as he sat back down behind the desk heavily, letting the papers fall on top of the semi-organized mess. He gestured for Hermione to take a seat opposite him in one of the stiff-backed chairs on the other side of his desk. “I thought I had something this time, but it turned out to be a false lead,” he told her tiredly. “A person matching Harry’s description was seen exiting from a wizard home in Liverpool along with a small group of known Death Eaters. The owners of the house moved out of the country last year after news of Voldemort’s resurrection became apparent. A recent rash of attacks in the area as well as a tip from a concerned neighbour led authorities to stake it out. The Aurors suspect that the house was being used by the Death Eaters as a sort of base of operations but before they could get inside it blew up, destroying the house and everything in it.” “That’s terrible!” Hermione exclaimed. “Was anyone hurt in the explosion?” Hunter shook his head. “They were very lucky. One more minute and a whole team of good witches and wizards would have lost their lives. Unfortunately, if Harry was being held there at some point, any evidence is now gone. We’re back to square one, I’m afraid.” Hermione wrung her hands. “Do you… do you really think that he’s alive, Professor? It’s been so long…” Stephen hesitated. He knew Harry was out there somewhere, but his head betrayed him with reason. Even if Harry’s body was alive, what kind of shape would his mind be in after eight months? He wanted to hold out hope, but with every day that passed it was becoming more and more difficult. Attacks on wizards and Muggles alike had reached an all time high, reminiscent of the height of the first war. The world had been plunged into darkness and Harry’s disappearance had hit the Wizarding world hard. It seemed that Voldemort had most likely won this war already; only Dumbledore, Stephen, and the Order of the Phoenix held out any hope that he could yet be defeated. After a long pause, Stephen’s eyes fell on the anxious girl in front of him and he knew that she was looking to him for hope that her best friend was out there… that he could be rescued one day. He wasn’t prepared to take her hope away — at least not today. “Yes, Miss Granger…” he answered finally. “I feel certain that he’s alive. We’ll find him and when we do, we’ll bring him home. I haven’t given up on him yet, and neither should you.” Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Professor. If there’s anything that we can do, Ron and I are more than willing…” Stephen nodded towards his desk and the waiting parchments. “You’re helping a great deal already. Are you sure that your own work isn’t suffering as a result of the time you’re putting into your duties?” “Thank you for your concern, Professor, but my marks are adequate,” she said, avoiding the question. He knew her well enough to know that Hermione’s adequate was most student’s best, so he didn’t worry much. “There are more important things than marks,” she murmured softly. “Ah, yes… Speaking of which,” Stephen said, attempting to lighten the mood, “I hear that Gryffindor is in the running for the Quidditch Cup again this year.” Hermione beamed. “Ron has done a fine job as interim Captain while Harry’s been away. The team has taken it upon themselves as a personal mission to do the best job that they can so that when Harry comes home they can present him with the Cup.” “How is Mr. Creevey doing as Seeker?” Stephen said conversationally. He knew that Hermione was not as well versed on Quidditch strategies as her counterpart, Mr. Ronald Weasley, but he was genuinely interested. Besides, it helped to keep their minds off other issues. “He’s done quite well,” Hermione answered proudly. “It was rough going at first, but I think they have some of the bugs worked out now. Colin isn’t the flyer that Harry was, or even Ginny… but he’s motivated and has made some excellent catches in practice. Saturday’s match will be a challenge, but Gryffindors tend to excel under pressure.” She laughed lightly. “…At least that’s what I keep telling Ron. He’s so focused on winning this last match that he’s done nothing but eat, sleep, and breathe Quidditch. He’s driving his team relentlessly, but I think having the responsibility of the captaincy has helped him as much as being your student assistant has helped me. It gives us both something to focus on.” He nodded understandingly, dreading the question he had to ask. “And how is Miss Weasley holding up? I see her in class, but I must confess… it is difficult to see her looking so distraught. I know how much Harry means to her, and with their bond severed… I know it must be hard for her.” Hermione’s face clouded. “I’m terribly worried about her, Professor Hunter. She looks paler every day — like a ghost wandering the halls. Somehow she’s managing to keep up in most of her classes, but just barely. Ron and I try to help her as much as we can — as do her other friends — but every day she withdraws a little bit more. It’s killing Ron to see his sister in so much pain, but there’s nothing we can do for her. The only thing that will make her feel better is to find Harry — alive.” “I’m trying, Miss Granger,” Stephen said, bitterly wishing he had a better answer to give her. “The Order and I are tracking down every lead, but there’s nothing. You must know that.” “I understand, Professor,” she said, rising awkwardly from her chair. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some things to take care of before dinner. Next time I come back around I’ll return those books you lent me. I’m very close to solving the puzzle box Harry gave me, thanks to you. The book on ancient Mesoamerican magical runes and symbols is proving most helpful.” Stephen chuckled. “Yes… yes, of course. Keep them as long as you like. I’m glad they have been useful. I’ll be interested to see what you turn up, if you have the time. Those puzzle boxes are quite rare. I wasn’t even aware that Harry had one until you asked for the reference material.” He paused as showed he to the door causing Hermione to hesitate as well. “Please let Miss Weasley know that if there is anything I can do…” he said lamely, wishing he could say more. Hermione nodded sympathetically. “I’ll tell her, Professor, thank you.” She slipped out the door quietly, but Stephen knew her heart was screaming inside just as loudly as his for a young man with messy hair and glasses… a boy lost out in the wilderness all because he — Stephen — hadn’t done his job properly. He shuffled back to his desk feeling defeated, his mind thinking back on that day. The Death Eaters had chosen their day well. The moment the emancipation papers had been signed the ancient blood magic that had protected his aunt and her family had disappeared, leaving them vulnerable. ‘Oh Quetzal…’ he thought for what felt like the thousandths time. ‘Why did you have to go off by yourself that night… and why in the name of Merlin didn’t I stop you?’ Stephen knew that he hadn’t been completely honest with Hermione, and the guilt niggled at him. The Order had heard news of Harry, but it most definitely wasn’t good news. The few Death Eaters they’d managed to capture and interrogate had spoken very reverently of their master’s new protégé. Whatever Voldemort had been trying to do to Harry’s mind over the summer was finally working, apparently. The young Dark Lord was rumoured to be ruthless, rivalled only by Voldemort himself. In fact, the reports were unclear about who exactly was more brutal… the young man who preferred torture to killing and who commanded the elements without the use of a wand, or the madman who was controlling him. It was reported that at times they almost seemed to be the same person rather than master and protégé. Clearly, Voldemort had found a way to take over Harry’s mind so completely that he couldn’t fight back. Not even Ginny could reach him. Stephen only hoped that Harry — the real Harry — was still in there somewhere fighting to get out. The alternative was too terrible to think about. Even Harry’s Apparition licence had worked against him. Ministry officials had ways of tracking unlicensed Apparators but Harry had slipped under the radar; if he was doing any Apparition at all it couldn’t be tracked unless he happened to get himself splinched — a very unlikely scenario. It would take a miracle to bring him back now, and Stephen wasn’t sure he believed in miracles anymore. *** Ginny could hear the whispering before she saw the faces but she kept her head down and pretended not to notice. Romilda Vane, a fourth year with a propensity for gossip that rivalled even Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown was at it again. After Harry had disappeared Ginny had gone to pieces. She had known the moment he was in trouble, but she hadn’t been able to reach anyone who could do anything to help. She had stood in front of the gargoyle statue throwing every sweet she could think of at it, swearing like a sailor and crying. But no matter how much she screamed and begged, it just stood there silently, staring at her with pitiless, stone cold eyes. She didn’t remember much of that night but by the time McGonagall had found her huddled in a heap on the floor by the foot of the statue, the connection had been gone for hours. No one could explain what had happened — the possibility that Harry was dead was not an option — but Hermione had done some research and had a hunch. Certain Dark spells could block connections such as Life Bonds and Soul Bonds temporarily. Harry could also have been given a potion to confuse him or to aid in the blocking of the connection. Also, if he was unconscious, Ginny would have a very difficult time connecting with him, just as she had during the summer. Since that night Ginny had felt as if half of her was missing. Sometimes the sadness was so overwhelming that it literally took her breath away. She’d catch a glimpse of dark hair from a distance or something unexpected would remind her of Harry and she’d dissolve into tears. Ginny had never been overly emotional, but she’d found a new respect for Cho Chang. Cho, herself, had been nice; the seventh year Ravenclaw had seemed to sense her distress at one point and had even sought her out and tried to comfort her. No one knew exactly why Ginny was so distraught, but everyone had their suspicions — she had been the centre of gossip for months now. A few like Romilda Vane thought she had unrequited feelings for the lost Boy-Who-Lived and was certain that she was just looking for attention, but others seemed to suspect the truth. Dean had finally stopped asking her out and had turned his attentions to a pretty fifth year Hufflepuff that Ginny didn’t know well. However, he still tried to cheer her up every chance he got, and she had even caught him staring at her thoughtfully when he thought she wasn’t looking. Ginny’s thoughts were interrupted by Ron who plopped down beside her. He snatched up the textbook that she was currently trying to read and raised an eyebrow. “Potions for the Potentially Potent?” he read, looking at the title. “Why are you reading a book about how to get rid of body odour?” Ginny snatched the book back, not in the mood for jokes. “For your information, it’s a reference book for an essay on the uses of Bundimun secretion in cleansing potions,” she said sourly. “No need to get shirty with me — I was just curious,” Ron said, holding his hand in front of him in a defensive posture. Ginny immediately felt guilty; it wasn’t Ron’s fault she was such a mess, and it was wrong to take it out on him just because he was here. “I’m sorry,” she said truthfully. “Romilda Vane is at it again, and I’m probably reacting to her more than you. Forgive me?” Ron’s face clouded as he shot the fourth-year huddled with her friends across the room a dark look. “Of course. Do you want me to talk to her? I’m still a prefect, you know.” Ginny shook her head. “It’ll only wind up the gossip more. I’d just like to get this essay finished before sunrise.” Ginny was only half joking. She hadn’t slept very well since Harry had been gone and when she did she often dreamt about him locked away in a dark room, all alone and unable to find a way out. He didn’t seem to know she was there no matter how much she screamed. Waking up at night screaming Harry’s name and crying hysterically hadn’t done a thing to dispel the rumours that she was pining for him. They weren’t off base in that she was pining for Harry, but most seemed to pity her because they thought that it was just a manifestation of her childhood infatuation. Ron gave her a critical look. “You’re not eating properly and you barely sleep,” he said with concern. “Harry wouldn’t want this-” “How do you know what Harry would want,” she snapped sharply, drawing the stares of several people close by. The common room was full of students studying and relaxing — a typical evening in the Gryffindor Tower, and they all wanted to know exactly what her relationship had been with the boy in question. Ginny lowered her voice. “I was privy to his feelings, Ron, and I think that I more than anyone would know what Harry would want. He wouldn’t want us to give up on him.” Ron looked taken aback by her bad temper. Ginny tended to mope a lot and had become very introverted, but she rarely lashed out. “I was only trying to help,” he said. “Harry was my friend and I did know him pretty well, you know.” Ginny paled. “Don’t you dare talk about him in the past tense,” she hissed. “He’s not dead!” Her eyes filled with tears again but she fought them, determined not to lose it here in front of the entire Gryffindor Tower. “Ginny,” Ron said gently. “It’s been eight months… Don’t you think we’d have some indication by now that he’s still alive?” Ginny covered her ears in a childish attempt to block out Ron’s words but he refused to let her hide. He grabbed her arms and forced her to listen. “I want to believe as much as anyone that he’s coming back, but I don’t know anymore....” “He’s coming back to me, Ron,” she whispered angrily. “I know it. He’s not dead, just lost.” Ron seemed like he didn’t really believe her, she could tell that he didn’t want to hurt her anymore. “Ginny…,” he said in that older-brother-knows-best tone that he liked to use sometimes, just as Hermione burst through the portrait hole yelling their names. “Thank goodness I found you,” she exclaimed, excitement flushing her face. “Hermione, take a deep breath,” Ron said, jumping up. “What’s wrong?” “I did it, Ron! I did it… finally,” she said breathlessly. “Did what?” Ginny asked. Hermione flew at Ginny and pulled her up into a big bear hug spinning her around. “I solved the puzzle box,” she cried, ignoring the curious stares she was getting from others in the room. “It took me months, but I just knew it would pay off and it did… it really did. I did it!” she squealed. “Hermione,” Ron scoffed, sitting back down, disappointed. “I thought for a minute there you had some real news. You shouldn’t get our hopes up like that.” He turned to the people in the room. “Go on then… you heard her. She solved a bloody puzzle box. Not exactly breaking news, is it?” The people in the vicinity grumbled at his callous attitude as he shooed them away, but they turned back to their own conversations and left them alone. Hermione took Ginny’s limp hand in hers and led her to a nearby chair, forcing her to sit down. Then she crouched in front of her and, looking her straight in the eye. “You remember the puzzle box that Harry gave me after his trip this summer?” she asked, her eyes twinkling. Ginny nodded mutely. She had seen Hermione tinkering with it on and off all year, but she had assumed it was Hermione’s way of distracting herself. “A few weeks before Harry disappeared he was acting really funny… talking up a storm about everything that had happened to him over the summer. We thought at the time that he had been drugged or something… do you remember?” “I stayed up with him that night and when he woke up we sat by the fire holding each other,” Ginny said quietly, looking towards the hearth and the couch where they had lain. For Ron’s sake she left out the bit where they had taken their relationship to a new level, merging their souls as they snogged each other senseless. It was a memory that she held onto to help keep her sane, although it caused her great pain every time she thought of it. “What about it?” she asked Hermione flatly. “Harry gave me some useful information that night and I’ve been doing research on this box ever since.” She held the box up. “See these carvings here? They tell the story of Quetzalcoatl and Tezcatlipoca, two warring Gods who the Mesoamericans believe have fought for centuries over control of the earth. Tezcatlipoca wants to destroy the earth — or at the very least rule over it — while Quetzalcoatl is called the Defender of Humanity.” Ron rolled his eyes. “That’s great, Hermione… really interesting. But what’s got your knickers in such a twist, and why are you so bloody excited over some dumb story?” Hermione gave him a scathing look. “I’m getting to that Ron. Don’t you remember Harry telling us that the Mixtec people believed that he was Quetzalcoatl reincarnated.” “Harry told you that?” Ginny said, genuinely surprised. He had never told her all this. “That night he said a lot of things… I think Harry never told us about all this because he was embarrassed. He’s never been one to think much of himself and I’m sure it was not an easy thing for him to have others look at him like a god. But I confirmed all this with Professor Hunter, and he corroborated Harry’s story. The Mixtecs really believed that Harry was Quetzalcoatl reincarnate and that V-Voldemort is Tezcatlipoca, the god of smoke and mirrors — the ultimate magician and trickster.” She shook her head as if to clear it. “Anyway, someone on the island wanted him to have this box. Foolishly, I’ve been looking for a way to open it since he gave it to me, but I discovered recently through my research that this is a magical puzzle box… it’s not meant to be opened but to be unlocked by a spell.” “What kind of spell?” Ginny asked, completely interested now. Hermione shook her head. “I don’t know, exactly, but I’ve got a hunch that it’s important — that it’ll help us find Harry. The glyphs and runes carved into the box suggest that if the box is opened under the full moon at a time of great need, Quetzalcoatl will hear the call and answer, no matter where he is in the universe.” “So if Harry is this Quetzal bloke,” Ron surmised, “then we might be able to get him back.” “That’s what I’m hoping,” Hermione said. “So, let’s do it,” Ron said enthusiastically. “What are we waiting for?” “Hold on… there’s more,” Hermione said, chewing her lip nervously. “Hermione,” Ron said, “so you know how to open this thing or not? Is it complicated? Dangerous?” His face darkened. “If it’s dangerous, you’re not doing it.” Hermione waved her hand irritably. “The spell part isn’t the problem, Ron. It seems to be a relatively straight-forward spell that doesn’t look to be very complicated. But the problem is that I can’t open it,” Hermione said with a small frown. “It requires a kind of key to open it.” She pointed to the glyphs and pictures that decorated the box. “The key part has stumped me for quite some time, but tonight I discovered something that I think will open the box. It’s something that’s been right under our noses all along.” “What is it?” Ginny asked, feeling her apathy drain away a bit. For the first time in months she was feeling something. This box was connected to Harry; as she traced the glyphs with her index finger she could feel traces of the magic dwelling inside. It reminded her of Harry’s magic and she felt a spark of something… something she hadn’t felt in a long time. Hermione caught her eye and held her gaze steadily. “It’s you, Ginny,” she said seriously. “You’re the Key.” “Me?” Her eyes fell to the box; it seemed to be calling to her and her heart filled with hope. Hermione nodded. “See this symbol here?” she said pointing to a glyph on the box. “I found the translation today in an old text that Professor Hunter lent me. It’s the symbol for divine love — soul mate — and it’s next to the symbol for key. This one here means open, this one is lock, and this one is midnight on the eve of a full moon. I worked out the translation of this passage here to mean: At a time of great need, the Key will summon the Prince from the belly of the of the Serpent where he has been imprisoned.” Ron leaned over to examine the box more closely then looked up and grinned. “Hermione, you’re brilliant! I can’t believe you figured this all out.” “There’s more,” Hermione said, pulling out an old scroll from her bag. “Professor Hunter showed me this. I think you need to see it.” She unrolled it for them to see, placing a parchment next to it with an English translation. “This prophecy was made by the Ancient Ones who built the island the Mixtecs live on. Some of it is missing, I think, because it has been passed down through the generations in the form of a song. If this is true, it makes me wonder whether or not Harry isn’t a reincarnation of Quetzalcoatl. It all seems to fit…” Ginny took the paper and read: “Through mist and darkness the Shadow of the Serpent will rise to power. His reign will be terrible, and many will fear to speak his name. In the last days, the child of Lightning and Thunder will be sent. You will know him by this: He will be the plume of the serpent, have eyes of green jewels, Command the feather of tears, and possess the gift of the sky. Ehecailacozcatl shall be his. The child will turn back the Dark for a day, but at a great price. The Shadow of the Serpent will rise again and the child will return to us Carried by his brother from across the Great Water. He will destroy the Enemy with his light, but the Dark will see. To escape the Darkness the child will seek out the shelter of the Temple of the Gods. For a time there will be peace, but soon the Storm will return. Darkness will reign until the end. At the midnight hour the Prince, no longer a child, will fall into the Shadow; His choice will decide the fate of the world. All seems lost for a time, but the Key shall summon him back from the depths of hell. To save his soul he will return to the Temple of the Gods, bringing the Serpent with him. There the final battle will take place. A sacrifice will be made, a spell will be cast, And the Serpent shall be defeated.” Ginny looked up and blinked. “That’s amazing. I think I can place Harry in most of this, but I don’t understand this bit here.” She pointed to the characteristics that would identify the child in question as being ‘the one’. “That had me stumped, too, for awhile,” Hermione admitted. “But I think I figured out a logical explanation. Obviously, the child of Lightning and Thunder could be a reference to Harry’s curse scar, or it could be a related to his elemental abilities. Regardless, it does fit him if you look at it in a certain way.” “What does ‘plume of the serpent’ mean,” Ron asked. “Snakes don’t have feathers.” “Quetzalcoatl was known as the feathered serpent. Harry has many of the qualities of both Slytherin and Gryffindor, exemplifying both a snake and a bird.” “Harry said that the Hat wanted to put him in Slytherin but that he asked to be put in Gryffindor,” Ginny put in. “Also, he said that he can turn into a least two Animagus forms, a snake and a bird.” She pointed to the next thing. “Eyes of green jewels… that certainly fits,” she said, remembering how vividly green Harry’s eyes were and how they were always full of rich emotion. “But what about ‘command the feather of tears’? What does that mean?” she asked Hermione. “That’s easy,” Ron answered. “Harry’s wand has a phoenix feather in its core.” “… the phoenix tears,” Ginny said, understanding now. “Of course! I remember Fawkes healing Harry’s arm with his tears in the Chamber. I had almost forgotten that.” Hermione nodded in agreement. “And Harry has a natural gift for flying,” she added. “That’s what I took from that phrase, ‘gift of the sky’.” “And then there’s Ehecailacozcatl,” Ginny whispered. “I know he has that.” “Ehec-ail-huh?” Ron asked, fumbling with the unfamiliar native word. “It’s that strange tattoo Harry has on his chest,” Ginny explained. “I heard him discussing it with Professor Hunter once. It enhances his innate magical power, I think. He was given it on the island by some odd statues he called the Ancient Ones.” Hermione slapped her hand down on the paper. “It all fits,” she said with an excited whoop. “Harry is the person in this prophecy.” Ron and Ginny exchanged worried looks. “Hermione,” Ron said carefully, “if this prophecy is about Harry, this can’t be all good. There’s some pretty bad stuff there, don’t you think?” “Well,” Hermione said, “from what I’ve been able to work out, part of this has already come to pass.” She pointed to various lines. “There first ones relate to V-Voldemort’s first reign, and then when Harry defeated him as a baby. This other part here refers to events that happened this summer. And we know it was about midnight when Harry was taken by the Death Eaters. It’s possible that this Shadow-thing could be the reason Harry’s been gone so long. He’s been stuck in this thing all this time waiting for the Key, or Ginny, to summon him.” She wrung her hands. “Oh, if only I’d worked this out sooner.” “Don’t blame yourself, Hermione,” Ron said proudly. “You solved it… that’s what’s important.” He turned to Ginny, whose eyes were glistening. “We have hope now, Ginny. Harry’s coming back to us, I can feel it.” Ginny nodded, too choked up to speak, as she hugged her brother tightly. “When can we do this spell?” Ron asked Hermione as he hugged his sister back. Hermione looked out the window at the darkening sky. “It’s a full moon,” she said gravely. “We can do it tonight.” She looked at Ginny. “I can begin teaching you the spell now, if you like, but I think we might need some help. Harry might not be himself, and he’s very powerful… We don’t know what he’s capable of or what kind of condition he might be in when we get him back.” Ginny looked at Hermione sharply. “Harry would never hurt us, Hermione.” “I-I know Ginny, but-” “I’ll go get Professor Hunter,” Ron said firmly. “He’s the only one who will understand any of this, and if things get out of hand he will be there to help. Should we tell Dumbledore, too, do you think?” he asked. “Leave that up to Professor Hunter,” Hermione said reasonably. “But I do think it’s a good idea to have him there. What do you think, Ginny?” “I’d like him to be there,” Ginny managed to say. “Harry trusts him.” Her mind was a jumble. In just a few hours she might be seeing Harry again after so long, and it was hard to focus on anything else. Ron nodded resolutely and disappeared out the portrait hole. Hermione turned and began gathering everything up. “Let’s go to your secret room,” she told Ginny quietly. “It’s the most private place I can think of to practice this spell.” Numbly, Ginny helped her. ‘Hold on Harry,’ she called out desperately in her mind. ‘Thanks to Hermione, we have a chance to get you back. I’m coming to get you.’ *** Far away is a small dark place created inside his mind Harry jerked his head up. Had he imagined it or had he just heard Ginny’s voice? After a moment or two of silence, Harry hung his head again, sweeping away the tears that fell silently down his cheeks. It couldn’t be Ginny. Ginny was dead. [A/N: Thanks to everyone for all the support, especially my beta Arnel and pre-betas. I’m glad I wasn’t flamed too badly for that last chapter. The next one is called “Found” and hopefully it will be coming to you next Friday. See you then!] |
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