Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ A Butterfly Effect ❯ Chapter 10: Losing Time ( Chapter 10 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

I went back to chapter nine and changed the word 'horcrux' to 'horse' during the peverell encounter. Didn't fit with several scenes I already have written. Sorry to those who were hoping for a big reveal at the end of the second book.

IMORTANT: There was confusion with the throne. Harry experienced flashes into the memories of Herpo the Foul, who according to canon was an ancient greek wizard (circa 500-400 B.C. was my guess) that bred the first basilisk and made the first Horcrux. She experienced the flashes just as she does with Voldemort's visions; in first person. Remember Quirrell? You might have suppressed it. It was pretty squicky.

My twist on the canon story was that 1500 years later, Herpo was the teacher of Slytherin, presumably under a different name. Explains Slytherin's affinity for basilisks and the dark arts.

And 1900 years later, around the 1400's when he carried the name Malvolus Gaunt, the Peverells, his grandsons through his daughter, killed him and acquired his wand, stone, and cloak. (wink wink) He *Astraled* into the next room just before he died and enchanted his throne much like a pensieve… but instead of just memories, he poured emotion and two-thousand years of evil into it as well… which is what possessed Harry.

I'm just filling in back story that was never really touched upon, creating realistic scenarios from the legends. I mean come on… 'the three brothers made a deal with death?' Yeah right.

We only saw those few memories because they had to do with the drive and the creation of horcruxes as those memories resonated with the horcrux in Harry's mind.

So I hope that clears some things up.

Chapter 10: Losing Time

They sat in the ancient wilderness. Far birds' cries blew on a wind, and the smell of tar and an old salt sea, moist grasses, and flowers the color of blood.

0000

Even from the top row of stands, she could see Ginny's hair sparkling brilliantly in the sun. Harry wanted to be down there on the pitch with her, retaking her first flying lesson. She wanted to fly away from her frustrations. But… seeing as she was supposed to be in double Herbology… it probably wasn't the best idea to make her presence known.

She clenched and unclenched her fists, trying to squeeze out her pent up anger. Snape is pathetic. I won't let that greasy git get to me ever again.

"I'll say this, Harry," drawled a voice from behind her. "You'd make a damn fine Slytherin."

Of all the people she would have wanted to see at that moment, Draco was at the bottom of the list. Harry laughed humorlessly and replied without turning around, "Go away Draco. I can't deal with you right now."

"No," he said simply, stepping over the back of the bench to sit down next to her. In his typical, 'I own the world manner,' Draco flipped his blonde hair and propped up his feet on the row in front of them. "Snape didn't say a word after you left. He just sat there like a prat, mouthing like a fish and staring at the wall."

"Good," muttered Harry, smiling inwardly at the look she imagined on Snape's sallow-skinned face after she had stormed out; smiling outwardly as she watched Ginny pull off a fantastic nose dive… to the horror of Madam Hooch.

Draco followed her gaze and gestured down at the field. "Is that little redhead the one you attacked Pansy over? The youngest Weasley?"

Harry's eyes widened at the implications of his question and her heartbeat quickened. "You lay a finger on her Draco and I swear on the graves of my parents… I'll kill you with my bare hands."

Draco laughed. "My my… how very Weaselbee-esque of you, Harry." He picked at his fingernails, flicking the offending cuticles away. "No… Don't get your little knickers in a twist. I was just curious as to why you were watching her so intently when I'm so much more interesting."

Harry snorted into her shirt. "More interesting than what? Listening to Professor Binns?"

Draco gave her the two finger salute but he was grinning. "Really… Harry… why can't we just be friends? We get on alright."

"We've been through this. We can't because you're an arse." Harry said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"So is Weaselbee," retorted Draco with an infuriatingly likable smirk plastered across his face.

Harry waved him off and added, "Because you're an arrogant arse."

"This coming from someone that essentially just told a Professor to wank off?" asked Draco smarmily. "Not a very solid reason."

"Well maybe it's because you're a filthy bigot!" Harry cried with spite, releasing all the anger she felt for Snape onto the blonde boy. "Just like the one that killed my parents. Now just… go away, you stupid ponce!"

Draco's smirk fell from his face. It was rapidly replaced by an expression chock-full of hot anger with a side dish of disappointment. He moved closer to her, but stopped abruptly as her wand's tip met the space between his eyes.

Sighing, Harry shook her head and said darkly, "Look… just leave me alone, Draco. I'm not in the mood for friendly banter… especially not with someone who is cruel to my friends and who shoves his tongue down the mouth of the biggest bint in the world."

Even with her wand in his face Draco had the stones to yell, "Don't you fucking talk about Pansy like that!"

"I'll stop when she stops," spat Harry, "And why shouldn't I, Draco? Think how I feel when you talk about Ron the way you do? It makes me want to curse your bits off…" She lowered her wand to his groin. "...which I'm thinking about doing right now unless you back away."

Draco searched her face with his icy steel-grey eyes, nodded tersely, and slid down the bench in the opposite direction. He resumed his lounging position and drawled cheerily, "Sooo… the ickle Weasley girl handles a broom pretty well. Did you teach her?"

Harry glared at him. He obviously wasn't going away. "No… she's just good."

"You know, I'll be trying out for the Slytherin team this year," Draco said pompously. "I'm sure to make Seeker."

Harry laughed. Is he trying to impress me? "Bully for you, Draco. Although, if Flint is still the Captain… then that's a bit unlikely. You're not big enough for his tastes."

"Flint is a pile of dragon shite… but he'll take me on. I'm riding a Two-Thousand One after all."

Harry groaned. He has the new Nimbus? I thought they were almost ten-thousand galleons each? "So… you're just buying your way onto the team then?"

"No," said Draco vehemently, cheeks flushing in anger. "I've practiced all summer. I'm twenty times better than Higgs. Pansy reckons I'm better than Diggory."

"Sure you are," mumbled Harry sarcastically.

Draco flipped his hair again. "You know, Father says there might be a scout for the League at the first match."

Harry had had enough. "Draco. Shut it. Please. If you're not going to go away, just bloody sit quietly!"

He thankfully stayed quiet so Harry could watch the first years fly in peace. She didn't want to go to Transfiguration or Defense. She wanted to take Ginny someplace quiet and get the sleep she so desperately needed.

Draco stood up when the flying lesson was over. "I have Charms… I'll see you."

He made to leave but Harry caught his hand. He seemed shocked that she was touching him. Harry didn't blame him… she was shocked as well. She opened her mouth... but no speech came to her.

"What?" he drawled. "Spit it out already."

"Wh-Why did you follow me up here?" asked Harry.

"You know why… You were mine first."

His grey eyes bore into her and the right words danced onto the tip of her tongue. "I… I wish you were different," she mumbled in earnest.

Draco pulled his hand away with a sour look on his face. "I'm trying," he whispered heatedly. "But what you're asking for… it's hard, alright?"

Harry nodded.

Draco flipped his hair and swaggered away down the stairs, leaving her staring after him.

"Hmmm. That was almost touching," said a deep wheezing voice, thick with a heavy polish accent.

Harry whirled around and whipped out her wand, pointing it into every corner of the empty box. "Who's there?" she asked, adrenaline shooting through her body, increasing the rate of her heartbeat to a dull roar of heavy thuds.

There was no answer.

With a circular flick of her wand, she whispered, "Aguamenti." Water shot from its tip in a powerful arc. She sprayed it all over the stands, but the stream didn't meet any resistance that could have been an invisible body.

She was indeed alone.

Great. First possession… and now I'm hearing voices.

Harry left the spectator box quickly and hurried to Transfiguration, fervently hoping the voice didn't follow her.

Ron and Hermione were waiting outside the classroom for her, demanding an explanation for this morning's disheveled appearance, for her outburst with Snape, and for why she missed Herbology. Harry told them everything she could as they attempted to transfigure beetles into buttons.

Hermione gasped and whispered, "Two-Thousand years? That's… that's even longer than Flamel! Herpo was a terribly powerful dark wizard as well. Oh Harry… are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine Mione," said Harry exasperatedly. It was the fifth time Hermione had asked if she was alright. "Dumbledore and Snape got rid of it. I was hoping… I was sure Snape would be kinder to me after that… but he was just as horrible as always, more so even… which is why I… exploded and ran off."

Ron poked his beetle and it went very flattish… but was still unmistakably a beetle. "Well… I thought it was brilliant. Although, you probably only made him hate you more. Bugger… Mione, show me how to do this." He had poked his beetle with a bit too much zeal, skewering it on the end of his wand. Professor McGonagall wasn't pleased.

Harry was relieved to hear the lunch bell. She walked quickly to the Great Hall and as she sat down, slid an arm around Ginny, who was unsuccessfully tearing into a rather large piece of bread. "I saw you flying today," said Harry. "You looked brilliant."

Ginny beamed at her. "Sh'anks." Harry giggled and Ginny swallowed. "What were you doing at my flying lesson?"

"Snape," whispered Harry. "I… I had a bad morning. Just wanted to… well, be with you."

Ginny scooted closer to her. "You okay?"

Harry sighed and put her head on the redhead's shoulder. "Now I am."

Ron plopped down into the seat next to her and dove for the potato salad. "Anyone know what we have this afternoon?"

"Defense," said Hermione immediately, without looking at her schedule.

Ron scowled and snatched it out of her hands. "Why have you outlined all Lockhart's lessons in little hearts?"

Harry and Ginny giggled as Hermione grabbed the parchment back, flushing red to the roots of her hair. "That's none of your business, Ronald."

Harry watched Ron's eyes flash with real jealousy and her repaired good mood sunk back into 'not so good.' Ginny squeezed her hand and pushed into her body so Harry was forced to move closer to Ron.

"Ginny! Stop!" she nervously whispered under her breath, blushing just as furiously as Hermione.

Ginny giggled and kept pushing. Harry fell out of her seat with a tumultuous squeal.

There was a click and a flash.

Colin and his camera were standing above her.

She groaned miserably at the tittering laughter that broke out all over the hall. Harry could hear Pansy's loud cackle over the throng. "Colin!" she said fiercely as she stood up. "You won't be developing that photo."

"But I need to prove I've met you!" cried the mousy-haired boy. "Could you sign it Harry?"

Harry grimaced. "And let you have a signed photo of me flashing you my knickers? I think not."

Colin went bright red and nodded like a bobble-head toy. "R-Right… sorry. I'll… I'll cut it out of the film."

"What's all this about flashing knickers and signed photos?" asked a jovial voice from behind them. Oh god. Gilderoy Lockhart was striding purposefully towards them, turquoise robes swirling behind him. When he saw Harry, he grinned widely. She, as well as several other girls around her, let out a little gasp at his oh-so-white teeth. Chuckling, Lockhart threw an arm around Harry's shoulders and said in a booming voice, "Shouldn't have asked! Harriet Potter!"

Harry saw Pansy fall over in her seat, heaving with laughter. The entire hall was listening in.

"Well then Mr. Creevey," said Lockhart grandiosely. "How about a double portrait? We'll both sign it. Can't do much better than that can you?"

Colin bounced excitedly as he took the picture. Harry breathed a sigh of relief when she noticed that the lens cap had been on the whole time. She wasn't however, about to alert anyone of this fact.

Lockhart smiled down at her. "Walk with me Harry." She blushed as his hand, settling firmly on her shoulder, steered her out of the Great Hall. "You know, I blame myself, giving you this thirst for publicity. Gave you the bug. Got you on the front page and now you're itching to do it again."

"Oh no… that's not it at all sir. I just fell off the bench and Colin-"

"A word to the wise, Harry," said Lockhart paternally, interrupting her when they reached the quiet of the Entrance Hall. "Exposing yourself in front of the camera is never a smart move. I've tried it myself a few times for the short burst of…well, never mind. Trust you me, Harry, it's a terrible business in the long run."

She thought her face must have been swelling from all the blood that was rushing to it. "Sir… I… I wasn't exposing myself."

"No need to be modest, Harry." Lockhart patted her back lightly, ignoring her protesting stutters. "Any fool can see that you're a relatively attractive young lass. You don't want to flaunt it though, Harry. 'Let them come to you,' I always say."

Harry gave up. "Yes sir. I'll keep that in mind."

They walked slowly up to the Defense classroom; Lockhart spewing advice on how to effectively deal with publicity. Harry had stopped listening after a few minutes. She found that intently watching the movements of his chiseled jaw as he spoke was much more satisfying than hearing his words.

Harry took a seat at the front of the class.

When Ron entered with Hermione in tow, he glared at her with incredulity. "The front?" he whispered heatedly. "Are you trying to drive me bonkers?"

"What?" she whispered back indignantly. "I wanted good seats… so I could… better actively participate."

Ron scoffed and muttered something under his breath.

When the whole class was seated, Lockhart cleared his throat and silence fell. He reached forward, picked up Neville's copy of Travels with Trolls, and held it up to show his own winking portrait on the front. Lockhart flashed them a brilliant smile and said, "Me.

Hermione and Susan Bones sighed audibly and Harry quietly agreed. Hear hear.

Lockhart continued to introduce himself with zeal. "Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award… but I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!"

No one laughed. Harry had to admit… it was a bad joke… and Hermione still copied it down in her notes. Ron, it seemed, had seen this and was currently trying to burn a hole into the desk with his eyes.

Harry liked Ron's eyes so much. She liked Ron's everything so much. He was, in his own way, just as attractive as the Adonis-esque Lockhart… and was even better on the inside than he was out.

In a moment of spontaneity, she grabbed Ron's hand underneath the desk and without looking at him, pulled it into her lap where she entwined their fingers. It hurt a little that she wasn't the one he was getting jealous over. I told him not to be jealous over Ginny and I. It's my own damn fault.

Harry dragged her thumb across his knuckles… trying to let him know that she was here too if he wanted her. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ron look up at her. "Harry?" he asked in a whisper. "What's up?"

Completely oblivious. Harry smiled weakly, squeezed his hand, and let go as Lockhart passed out a quiz to check how much they remembered from the books, assuming they had read them all. Hermione had… Harry had… but from the terrified expression of the rest of the class, she was fairly sure they were the only two.

And yet… Harry wasn't able to answer a single question on the test as it was a sheet full of ridiculous personal questions about Lockhart himself.

She raised her hand, completely perplexed.

"Yes. Miss Potter?" said Lockhart with a jovial bounce.

Harry held up the sheet. "Sir… I think you've given me one of your interview sheets or something by mistake. There aren't any questions about Defense."

Ron sniggered and slid his test over to her.

It was the same.

Lockhart smiled and Harry saw it once more; that little not-quite-right gleam in his eye. His expression seemed like it had been manufactured on a doll. "To truly excel in Defense Against the Dark Arts, you need to know all about the masters of the craft themselves."

"But-"

"No 'buts,' Harry, there's a good girl. It was all in the books. Let's get to work."

Shite. Her brain had only absorbed the useful bits of the books, like what spells Lockhart used to defeat the various creatures, not what Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color was.

"Tut, tut," cried Lockhart half an hour later as he rifled through the papers. "Hardly any of you remembered that my favorite color is lilac. I say so in Year of the Yeti…"

Harry tuned him out. For the first time in her life, Harry Potter had 'Failed.' She glared at the man responsible for breaking her amazing record; his handsomeness completely forgotten. Stupid blighter. She had never failed to earn a passing grade on a test. Ever. Not even in Potions… Not even on surprise Maths quizzes back at Stonewall.

"-full marks!" said Lockhart excitedly, bringing her out of her haze of frustration. "Where is Miss Hermione Granger?"

Hermione squeaked and raised a trembling hand.

Lockhart waved Hermione's paper in the air, beaming at her. "Excellent. Quite excellent! Take ten points to Gryffindor! And so… to business." He gestured to the large cage he had pulled out from behind his desk. "Now… be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourself facing your very worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm."

Harry sat up from her angry slouch. This is more like it! She gazed excitedly at the rattling cage.

"I must ask you not to scream. It might… provoke them!" He whipped off the cover on the last syllable.

The breath the entire class had been holding was exhaled as one. Harry stared at Lockhart in disbelief.

"Yes," he said dramatically. "Freshly caught Cornish pixies!"

Seamus snorted in derision. The rest of the class concurred, tittering with giggles.

"Yes?" he asked Seamus with his not-quite-right eyes crinkled from what seemed to be a very fake smile.

"Well… they're not… they're not dangerous at all are they?" asked Seamus with a choking laugh.

"Don't be so sure!" said Lockhart, waving his little winger at Seamus in the most annoying way. "Devilish tricky little blighters they can be!" He moved toward the cage and touched the latch.

Wait… is he going to… oh the idiot, not in a cluttered room!

"Right, then," Lockhart said loudly with a wide grin on his face. "Let's see what you make of them."

Harry stood up and shouted, "Wait!"

But Lockhart had already opened the cage.

It was pandemonium and then some.

Pixies flew everywhere, destroying the contents of the crowded and messy classroom. The annoying little things swooped around their heads, poking eyes; pulling hair; trying to lift them up by the ears. Two got into Ron's clothes and he was dancing around on the spot. Lockhart gesticulated wildly and shouted, "Come on now… round them up, round them up, they're only pixies!" The man rolled up his sleeves. "Peskipiksi Pesternomi!"

Harry wasn't at all surprised when nothing happened. That was clearly a made up spell that lacked direction and intent. It definitely wasn't how you dealt with avian pests either… as Harry had learned in Voyages with Vampires. How can he not know his own spells?

She dove out from the space beneath her desk, swatted a pixie away from her wand, and cried, "Immobulus!"

The blue ball of light shot to the center of the room and exploded in a wave of sparkling magic, immobilizing anything and everything that was in mid-air. Pixies floated dreamily around the classroom along with several textbooks, some inkpots, a few quills, and Neville.

"Blimey," said Ron with a grin. "That was a good shot."

He had taken off the majority of his clothes in the process of removing the pixies and Harry, upon viewing his chest, blushed beet red. He had the beginnings of muscles everywhere and even though his body had that stretched look that came with growing too quickly, Harry thought it was a very nice sight.

Students reemerged from under desks, and poked playfully at the little blue creatures.

"W-Well done Harry," mumbled Lockhart, crawling out from the safety of his own desk, straightening his hat over his fly-away hair. "Well done indeed."

Thirty minutes later, Harry pushed open the door to Ginny's room. She scratched Frances on the head as she put him on the windowsill and the cactus squinted at her. The first year dorm, unlike the second year dorm, got direct sunlight. Alice slithered down her arm and coiled around the plant protectively. The two had bonded somehow. Harry didn't even believe Frances could really think. Alice, however, insisted that it could… even though the plant had no ways of communicating other than through the movement of its eyes.

Harry flopped down onto Ginny's bed with a sigh. Feeling an intense need to be extra comfy, she kicked off her shoes, pulled off her robe, unknotted her tie, threw off her sweater, and tore off her starch-collared restricting blouse.

This was how the redhead found Harry an hour later after returning from her class; exhausted, without a shirt, and face down in her bed.

Ginny giggled and jumped into the covers with her, straddling the small of Harry's back. "Don't you have your own room?"

Harry flipped them over onto their sides and said weakly. "I had to get away. Mione won't stop gibbering about Lockhart. What a stupid self-absorbed blighter he is. He actually gave us a test containing the question, 'What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite snack?'"

Ginny laughed and dipped her head down into Harry's hair. "Yup… I had him first thing. He's a good looking git if there ever was one."

Harry snorted and took Ginny's fingers into her hands to play with. "I failed of course," she muttered miserably. "For the very first time… I failed a test."

Ginny giggled and consolingly rubbed her shoulder. "It doesn't matter… it was bound to happen eventually. Nobody's perfect, yeah?"

Harry sat up and hunched over the edge of the bed. "Hermione's perfect," she whispered, surprising herself with the bitterness that accompanied her words. "She got full marks."

Ginny leant against the headboard and pulled Harry back to sit between her legs. "So… Hermione talking about Lockhart wasn't the real reason you had to come to my room was it?"

"What do you mean?" asked Harry quickly… too quickly.

Ginny laughed and squeezed at Harry's sides. "Come on Harry. I know that Ron wanting her makes you upset."

Harry relaxed into her chest, leaning back into her warm arms. "I love Mione and all but… but I want him. He's my knight."

"Then take him you silly twit."

Harry shook her head. "I can't."

"Why not?" asked Ginny.

Harry sighed and said resignedly, "because I can't hurt her, Gin… and… and I don't think he likes me like that."

Ginny started to run her hands along the lumpy bits of her shoulder. "I think he does Harry. Maybe you just need to show him you want to be more than mates. Show him that you're a girl and let him choose you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," said Ginny, pulling lightly at her skin. "That way you won't feel guilty."

Harry groaned with pleasure, closing her eyes as Ginny's hands grappled with the tension in her neck. "Where did you learn to do that, Gin?"

"Do what?"

"That… that thing you're doing with my shoulders." Harry shivered. Ginny's fingernails were trailing lightly along her collarbone.

She withdrew her hands quickly from Harry's body. "Oh I… I dunno. I was just doing it. I'm sorry."

Harry let out an involuntarily moan as the skin contact ended. "Don't… don't stop. It feels really wonderful."

Ginny giggled and her palms returned to Harry's shoulders. Her soft hands worked each muscle individually, sliding underneath Harry's bra straps for better access. It was sublime. Ginny fingertips brushed in circles across her neck, sending a shudder across her thin frame. "Wow. Harry, does it really feel that good?"

"Mmhmm yeah."

"Well… lie down then," Ginny said in her ear, patting her belly. "I'll do your whole back."

Harry nodded; her head fuzzy from relaxation. She crawled to the pillow and collapsed.

Ginny, sitting on top of her bum, started to knead Harry's shoulders and upper arms. A wave of complete calm and peace wash over her. Ginny's fingers slid down the side of her ribs and back up over the small of her back.

Harry was purring in content ten minutes later when Ginny said her arms were tired. Harry giggled and muttered happily, "let me do you, then." I'll try and do everything you did."

Ginny yawned and nodded her approval. She stripped off her tops and unclipped her red bra, throwing it against the wall in frustration. "You know, if my bubbies didn't make my back hurt, I'd never wear one of those things." Smirking slyly, she teasingly asked Harry, "Why do you wear one again?"

"Oh Ha Bloody Ha," retorted Harry moodily. "They're finally coming in though."

"Sure those aren't bug bites?" said the redhead with a laugh.

Harry growled and jumped on her, pushing her down on the bed, digging fingers into her sides. Ginny's squeals were surely loud enough to bring down Miranda Robbins, Percy's female Prefect counterpart, so she relented and sat back. "You deserved that."

Freckled breasts heaving, Ginny grinned and flipped over onto her belly. "Yup… and now I deserve a massage."

Harry imitated Ginny's hands as best as she could, kneading and pressing, rubbing and caressing, trailing fingers across a sea of freckled skin.I like freckles… wish I had some. Harry felt an intensely pleasant bubbling feeling as she ran her hands all over Ginny's back.

"U-Use your nails," Ginny whispered; her eyes were closed and she was smiling widely. Harry dragged her fingernails down the sides of the redhead's body from arm to waistline. A shudder wracked Ginny's body and the redhead arched downward into the sheets. "Oh… M-Merlin, you're right Harry… this is wonderful."

The dormitory door swung open. "Harry, Ginny, are you in-"

Harry gazed into rapidly bulging chocolate brown eyes.

Hermione absolutely shrieked, "what are you two doing?"

Moaning lazily, Ginny replied with a smile, "giving massages. Would you like one?"

Harry wasn't partial to the idea, feeling for some reason like this new pleasurable activity was only meant for her and Ginny. It was a new form of their friendship… something that Hermione couldn't be a part of. The thought was selfish… but she couldn't get rid of it. This is ours.

Hermione exhaled heavily. "Oh. Dear me, I thought… well… anyway… no thank you. I just came in to… to show you this. You're not going to like it." Hermione was holding out a copy of the Daily Prophet. There were three headlines. One was far more significant to Harry than the others.

Grindelwald Passes Quietly

Platform Nine and Three Quarters- Charms Faulty.

Statute of Secrecy Hangs in the Balance- Do We Blame Potter?

Harry shrugged on her shirt and took the paper from Hermione, quickly flipping to the article where she found a full size picture of herself and Ginny taking off from the ground on a broomstick. Next to that was another picture in which she was shrinking two trunks and an owl cage.

Statue of Secrecy Hangs in the Balance- Do We Blame Potter?

By EIC Barnabus Cuffe

The Ministry is violently thrown head-over-heels today as recent evidence of our world explodes into the muggle press. Young Harriet Potter, age 12, granted a special dispensation by the Ministry to use magic over her summer holidays due to dangerous living conditions, was seen and photographed performing magic yesterday morning by muggle birdwatchers. The photographs appeared in reputable muggle publications such as The Sun, The Daily Star, The Daily Mirror, and The Daily Express. Obliviators are hard pressed to locate the recipients of each paper as their viewers total in the millions. Albus Dumbledore, Supreme Mugwump and Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, has refused to let Daily Prophet reporters speak to Potter about her blatant disregard for public interest.

So who do we blame for this gross usurpation of the Ministry's valuable time and resources? Do we blame Harriet Potter, a girl new to the standards and practices expected of her from the Wizarding world? Or do we blame ourselves? Do we blame ourselves for placing the responsibilities of an adult on a 12 year old child?

Harry burst into laughter. "The Sun… The Daily Mirror… reputable muggle publications? Mione… those are all tab-rags! I bet they had our picture right next to a... a photo of Nessie."

"Harry… sometimes they… sometimes they get it right… and this time they obviously have."

"Yes, but no one will take it seriously will they?" asked Harry bitingly. "Don't be an idiot." Mione interrupted us for this?

Hermione snatched back the paper. "Why are you being like this? You've been snapping at me for the last hour. I'm sorry you did poorly on your test but you don't have to take it out on me!" She stomped from the room in a huff.

Ginny slid out of the bed and hugged Harry from behind. "You should tell her why you're really upset."

"I'm not-"

Ginny cut her off by blowing a loud raspberry on her neck. "Shut it. Tell her."

Harry sighed and went after her bushy-haired friend.

Hermione was sitting in front of the common room fire, thumbing through the prophet with a miserable look on her face. Ron was across the room playing a game of chess with a seventh year, but he was staring at them curiously.

Harry touched her shoulder lightly and, without looking up, Hermione said curtly, "What?"

"I'm sorry."

Hermione grabbed at Harry's hand and squeezed it, a pleading look adorning her face. "Why are you acting-"

Harry shook her head quickly with a glance at Ron. She pulled Hermione up and whispered, "Not here… in Ginny's room."

Hermione nodded and they ran back up the stairs to find a fully dressed Ginny.

Harry sat Hermione down on the bed, took a deep breath, and said bravely, "I like Ron."

Hermione flushed red. "Oh… but what does that… I mean I don't-"

"Yes you do," chorused Harry and Ginny together.

"I… no I…" she trailed off.

Harry sat down on the bed next to her, slinging an arm around her shoulder. "He likes you and I'm… I'm jealous. I don't… I don't want to try and take him from you… so Ginny and I thought we could just… let him choose, you know?"

Hermione nodded slowly. "Did he… did he say he likes me?"

Harry laughed. "He doesn't need to say it."

"Couldn't I… couldn't I just be with him?" asked Hermione longingly.

Harry brought her legs up to her chest and whispered unhappily, "Yeah… yeah you could."

Hermione didn't fail to notice her tone and said desperately, "but if I… he won't… I don't have a chance do I? You're Harriet Potter for God's sake!"

"Ron doesn't burn holes into the table with his glare when Harriet Potter looks at another boy," Harry muttered, picking at the edge of the sheets.

Hermione sighed heavily. "Oh Harry, I just… alright we'll… we'll let him choose."

"Are you sure, Mione?" asked Harry hopefully, squeezing the brown-haired girl's waist.

"Yes, I'm sure," said Hermione slowly. "But… we can't let Lavender get him!"

"Lavender?" asked Harry, perplexed.

"Er… yes. She snogged him on the train."

"She… she snogged him?" yelled Harry, bristling.

"That's what he said," said Hermione with a sour look upon her face.

A tiny piece of the sympathy and developing warmth she carried for the blonde girl disappeared with a poof. It was wrong to suddenly develop resentment for her roommate; for Quirrell's victim. But Ron is mine… ours… not Big-Bubby Brown's.

Grinning she took Hermione's hand and pulled her back to their room. Harry dug into her trunk furiously.

Hermione knelt down next to her, peering in to the enlarged-on-the-inside space. "What are you looking for Harry?"

Harry grabbed the bag of lipstick charm candies. "These, here… take one. Maybe they'll… I dunno… give us a leg up on her… since we lack where Lavender excels," she said with a giggle.

Hermione smirked impishly, pulled out a glittering dark red candy, and popped it into her mouth. Harry stared open-mouthed as her lips turned the same sparkling shade of sultry red right in front of her eyes. I love magic.

Harry reached in and withdrew a bright pink candy. Its sweet strawberry flavor tingled in her mouth as she chewed. She ran to the bathroom mirror to find that her lips had turned a glossy bubblegum pink. Oh yes... I like these.

Ginny walked into the bathroom and froze. Big amber eyes roamed over Harry's face. "Wow… Harry… that makes you look so…" Ginny trailed off; she was rubbing a spot just above her heart.

Even though Harry didn't find out what she looked like, Ginny's words carried a tone she had never heard before in anyone's voice. It was thick, like molasses; sweet, like honey; and… something. It made her skin tingle. "Are you alright, Gin?"

"Yeah… yeah I'm fine. I just… my chest feels tight."

"From flying maybe?" asked Harry, walking to her and placing a hand over Ginny's.

"Oh… yeah, maybe."

"I know what will help… Dinner! I'm starving."

Ginny rubbed Harry's stomach affectionately. "Surprise surprise."

They called to Hermione and made their way down to the common room.

Things… were a bit hectic.

Someone… the twins… had given Trevor the Toad an engorgement potion. His now four foot wide body was hopping all over the furniture in mighty leaps while Neville chased after him rather uselessly. Harry ducked beneath the trajectory path of the nearly flying toad and ran to Ron, who was still absorbed in his game despite the chaos.

She looked down at the board and chuckled. He had mate in two moves. "Why are you torturing John here, Ron? Queen to E6, Rook to E5 and mate."

John sighed and knocked over his King while Ron muttered grumpily, "Spoilsport. Just trying to give the bloke a fighting- what in Merlin's pants is on your mouth?"

"Lipstick," answered Harry in a soft, tentative voice.

"Why are you wearing lipstick?"

"Because I'm a girl and I want to."

Ron gulped and his ears turned pink. "Oh... it… it looks really nice."

Her heart flipped. "Thanks." She punched him lightly in the arm. "Come on. Let's go see who can eat the most roast beef."

"You're on, mate."

Five minutes later, Harry had a sumptuous pile of food in front of her. The smell of it made her cackle in delight.

She was halfway through her second portion, listening to Ron and Hermione argue about napkin etiquette, when someone rudely poked her in the back of the head. Harry turned in her seat; completely ready to tell some plonker off.

But no one was there.

She turned to Ginny, thinking the redhead was maybe having a laugh, but her friend was deeply involved in an intimate relationship with her soup.

And then it happened again.

She turned quickly, searching for the perpetrator.

Two eyes, black like long dark tunnels, were staring at her from the head table. She met the gaze and Harry could suddenly feel the wholedisgusting tendril that was pushing roughly at her mind.

She flashed back to the room with Quirrell; she was staring into demonic red eyes as Voldemort raped her mind, plunging into the corridor of her memories.

But she had to admit… Voldemort's touch had been almost gentle. Severus Snape's, however, was not. He was rushing down the corridor, frantically bludgeoning down the doors to her memories. He was obviously searching for something.

It was really too bad for him that Harry knew a basic, and yet effective method of how to do this thanks to her birthday books. She gathered all of her willpower, all of her magic, and all of her mind. She gathered every little bit of everything that she was into a tight ball and placed it into a solid room with one door that she promptly slammed shut. Harry grinned and imagined a photo hanging from the door of her flipping him off.

Snape's face contorted in anger and he barreled against the wooden barrier.

Harry growled, pictured the door turning to steel, and pushed at the other side with her mind, reinforcing it against Snape's thunderous blows.

But he was strong… too strong. He burst into the room after ten or so pounds and Harry, frightened, did the only thing she could. Forming her hammer, lacing it with her very worst memories, she slammed it down on the offending tendril.

Snape fell out of his chair.

His nauseating touch fell away and Harry rode the tendril, quite without purpose, back into Snape's mind. There was a solid steel wall in front of her but she could hear his surface thoughts. She almost drowned in them.

Lily.

Does she forgive me?

Lily.

Does she love me?

Lily.

Find Lily.

Lily.

My Love.

Lily.

My Lily.

Harry ripped herself away, closing her eyes tightly… and found that someone else was touching her mind, knocking politely at the outer walls. She recognized the soft mannerism. It was Dumbledore. Her eyes swiveled to half-moon spectacles and another tendril appeared, but it didn't enter the corridor.

Harry didn't hear him speak. She just… knew. He was proud of her; he wanted her to leave the hall; he would have a talk with Snape.

She spooned several more piles of food onto her plate, picked it up, and hurriedly left for the common room.

Ensconced in the room of scarlet and gold, she counted roughly two minutes before Ginny burst through the portrait hole. "What was that about, you nutter?"

"Snape," Harry spat venomously, waving her fork in the air in indignant protest. "He broke into my mind looking for my mum. He was worse than Voldemort… tearing my bloody mind apart. The… the bastard!" Harry leaned back into the couch she was occupying and stabbed a few green-beans with her fork. "I fought him off… but my head is killing me."

"How did you… how did you fight him off?" asked Ginny amazed, lifting up Harry's legs from the couch and sliding her lap underneath them.

Harry smiled, wiggling her toes on Ginny's belly. "With skill, my dear Ginnykins."

Ginny raised her eyebrow.

Harry stuck out her tongue.

Ginny growled.

Harry crossed her eyes.

Ginny wiggled her fingers on Harry's ankles.

Harry cringed as she lost their battle. "Fine. You win. Leave my knees alone."

The redhead's hand started to inch up her leg.

"Gin… don't you dare."

She cocked her head at Harry, blew her a kiss, and proceeded to dig her fingers into the ticklish weak spots.

They fell off the couch as Harry squirmed and laughed. They rolled... and she found herself on top of Ginny in a straddle. All of a sudden, she was feeling something completely new. Completely wonderful.

Her skirt had risen up and Ginny's head was right between her upper thighs; her breath hot and heavy on the skin next to the lining of Harry's knickers. It sent an intense shiver up her spine and all the way back down to her toes.

Letting out a soft gasp, she quickly removed herself and flopped down next to the girl onto the soft rug.

As they sat there by the fire, talking about Ron and Quidditch and school and what they should do come winter break, and how Ginny would marry Tom if he had a body, Harry couldn't help but feel that they should be doing something else besides talking; something… more.

She took Ginny's hand and examined it, playing with the fingers in her lap. She remembered exactly where and how she had kissed it by the stream; how good her skin tasted. Could she do that again? That had been-

"Harry," said Ginny heavily, cutting off her train of thought. "You never told me what happened last night."

"Oh… yeah." Harry said, dropping the smooth hand. She told the tale slowly, trying to remember as much detail as she could.

When Harry had finally finished, Ginny leaned into her and asked, "Who were all those people?"

"I didn't recognize many names," Harry replied, scratching at her head, "but I'm absolutely positive all the people I experienced the visions from were the same man. He felt the same throughout. The same… hate… was in his mind. And… they were all Parseltongues… like me. He had… his snake was brutal."

Harry put her head in her hands. She tried to block out the grotesque images of the bodies of gutted old man littering a stone temple floor, their blood staining the marble as the snake slowly consumed them. "I'm… I'm kidding myself, you know? Being a Parseltongue isn't a gift. Alice would kill for me with a word; would drown herself at my command.

Ginny wrapped her arms around Harry's shoulders. "Because she loves you."

Harry shook her head. "Snakes don't love. Even though I love her… she only thinks we're allies or some rubbish. Snakes don't even have a word for love. No… I control her… completely. People shouldn't be able to have that type of control over anyone or anything. It's black magic…real black magic, Gin. It… it's just like my dream. Voldemort forced people to torture and kill their loved ones… and then kill themselves. He could make me kill you. Dumbledore keeps telling me that he knows I'll always choose to do good with any type of magic I own. But what if someone had the power to take away my choice? Parseltongue is exactly the same, isn't it? But instead of people, it's with an animal."

Ginny cupped her cheek. "But you would never do that. You'd never make Alice do that. And that's the difference. Any magic can be used for good… or it can be used for evil. Someone could shoot a Scourgify into someone else's eyes. That would be terribly painful. The barmy old man has got it right, Harry."

Again, staring into Ginny's big bottomless amber pools, she felt the need to do more than talk.

That night, curled into Ginny's arms, Harry experienced the same thing. There was something they were missing… something right in front of her face. It was so… infuriating.

Under the covers the redhead's fingers trailed lazily around Harry's bellybutton. She had only ever experienced a touch like this back in St. Mungo's when Ginny had trailed a loving hand down her cheek.

"Gin," she whispered into the dark.

"Mmm?"

"I… feel a bit weird."

"You are a bit weird," Ginny mumbled into her neck. "Go to sleep. Sleepy-time."

That made Harry smile. Really truly smile. Here was a girl that could pick on her and still make it sound complimentary and loving. Biting down on the twigs of her little plush broomstick, she closed her eyes, breathed in strawberries, flipped the hourglass, and wiggled into Ginny's body for a nice long rest.

…

There was a shriek of terror.

0000

She opened her eyes as Harry rolled over in the bed, pushing her chest into the palm of Ginny's hand.

She glanced at the clock. 3:00 AM.

"Unh..."

Grinning at Harry's little moans to which she had become so accustomed, Ginny withdrew her hand from beneath Harry's shirt and nuzzled the back of the girl's neck for relief

Ginny had felt so strange yesterday. Upon seeing Harry with her lipstick, which made her look far older than her actual age, Ginny's heart and sternum had… tightened. It was an aching tightness… that was the only way to describe it. She knew instinctively that Harry was the cause... but she didn't understand why. Ironically, Harry was also the cure. Ginny didn't feel it now; didn't feel the ache when they were touching.

Harry flipped over to face her and made a grunting noise as her little toy broomstick found its way to her mouth. Ginny giggled and lightly brushed the black hair away from the small pink lips. You're ridiculously cute sometimes, you know that? No wonder the boys clamor. Leaning down, she brushed her lips on the sleeping girl's knuckle. Love you.

She turned over to get up to use the bathroom… and froze.

A boy, his face clearly visible in a patch of moonlight, was standing next to their bed. He was staring intently at Harry; his dark brown eyes fixed on her in a malevolent glare. He had black hair and… pale, almost translucent skin.

At her sharp intake of breath, his eyes swiveled to Ginny's own... and then… he smiled. She was reminded of several illustrations of the terrifying old horror story about Babbity Rabbity and the talking, grinning, tree stump that tricked her into giving it her soul. The boy, like the stump, had the most sickening twisted grin; it was manic and dark, promising pain and horror to its recipients; it made her want to wretch; it was absolutely terrifying; it was… evil.

And yet… the most horrifying thing of all… was that she felt herself… grinning back at him.

She tore her gaze away and screamed at the top of her lungs. Harry awoke with a start. Rolling on top of Ginny, she grabbed a wand off the bedside table and pointed it wildly around the dark room.

From what Ginny could see through the crook of Harry's arm, there was nothing there. The boy had gone.

"Gin, what-"

"There was a boy," said Ginny quickly. "He was standing over us! But… he… he just disappeared."

Her wand raised, Harry left the bed and walked over to the door. From the rattle it made, it was apparently still locked. She gave Ginny an odd look. "Are you… are you sure it wasn't just a dream, Gin?"

Ginny nodded rapidly, still trembling from the boy's expression. "I had already woken up when I saw him… unless I'm still dreaming."

Harry scratched her head. "Don't think you are. Maybe I am." She pinched herself on the shoulder. "Nope.

"I swear he was there!" said Ginny desperately. "He was there and… and he was horrible, Harry.

"Did… did he speak? Did he have a polish accent?"

"He didn't say anything… he just… stared at us." And he grinned… and I grinned with him… why did I?

Harry held her wand… or my wand… aloft and whispered, "Lumos!" A blinding white light as bright as the sun burst forth from the tip. Night turned to day. Harry checked under the bed and in the bathroom. "Oh… wait a moment," muttered Harry, snapping her fingers. She opened her mouth and hissed, "Ossaa, essafaliss ofussoss nala saiaassiieth kassaa efissassath."

Ginny heard a return hiss from the windowsill. Alice would have seen!

"Kassaa essheaalaarisshii."

Another hiss.

Harry sighed. "I think you were imagining things, Gin. Alice says that no one came through the door or the window… and when you screamed there was no one next to the bed."

But… he was there.

Harry pulled her out from the covers. "Come on, no point in sleeping again. It's almost six and a nice hot bath will sort this whole thing out."

Despite her fear that the boy was still in the room, Ginny smiled. Harry did love her baths. She believed in their power like Mum believed in the power of tea.

Although they hadn't bathed together since the night she flew to Hogwarts, Ginny wasn't fazed at all when Harry got into the tub with her. There was only one bath after all. It even felt more comfortable to have the girl with her… it soothed her ache. And what's more… she needed comfort.

Why did I grin back?

Every few minutes Harry would fall asleep in the water and Ginny would have to poke her in the tummy with a toe. If the boy came back she was not going to be the only one that saw him. Ginny reached over and pulled Harry into her lap from the other side of the tub. "I did see him. I promise."

"I… I believe you," Harry said softly, leaning back against her chest and yawning tremendously. "If you see him again we should tell McGonagall. Will you wash my hair, Gin? I'm tired."

Ginny snorted. "More like lazy."

"Please," Harry whispered into her ear; her breath sending wonderful little goosebumps down Ginny's neck.

"Oh fine." Ginny's stomach fluttered pleasantly as she squeezed out some lavender scented shampoo from the silver tap and slowly ran her hands through the thick black hair. "Let's go flying today."

"Mmmm…" Harry's soapy head fell onto her shoulder. "Draco followed me to the stands yesterday. He said he's got a Nimbus two- OH SHITE!" yelled Harry, bolting upright. "I'VE GOT QUIDDITCH PRACTICE!" Harry dove under the water and scrubbed her hair furiously. After the quickest wash Ginny had ever seen anyone take, Harry kissed her on the cheek, jumped up, grabbed her clothes, and ran from the bathroom.

Ginny looked nervously around the empty bathroom and sank down into the water, submerging herself all the way up to her nose, feeling safer beneath the surface of the hot bath . Pull yourself together. You're a Gryffindor. She ran over the encounter with the boy in her mind.Maybe he's a ghost. He was so pale and almost… almost… wait.

Almost six?

6:00 AM?

Ginny leapt out of the tub and ran to the clock in her room. It read 6:20.

"That's impossible!" said Ginny, to no one in particular. "It was… It was only three o'clock when I woke up!"

She picked up a quill and grabbed Tom from her desk.

Tom, do you know of any spells that can make someone lose 3 hours of time?

Yes, Ginny Weasley… I know many. The Oblivation jinx and the Confundus charm are two of the most common. Mind magics such as possession can lead to a loss of time. Why do you ask?

I think someone used one on me! I woke up this morning at 3:00 AM. There was a boy standing by my bed. I woke Harry up but the boy had suddenly disappeared. Then, not five minutes later it was almost 6:00 AM.

Yes. That does seem plausible. Tell me… What did the boy look like?

He was older. At least sixteen. He had black hair and brown eyes.

What color was his skin, Ginny Weasley? Was it light?

Yes, he was pale. Almost see through. I couldn't tell as it was still dark, but he might have been a ghost. Do you think so?

I cannot guess. Ghosts cannot use magic. Perhaps he was more than a ghost, but not quite a boy.

I'm scared Tom.

Don't be scared, Ginny Weasley. Harry Potter will surely protect you if the boy comes again. She would surely save you. Will she not?

I think so.

Will she or will she not?

I said I think so.

Will she or will she not?

I said she will, Tom. Are your charms faulty or something?

Tom?

Tom? Hello?

"Great," muttered Ginny. "I've offended my diary."

As breakfast didn't start for another hour, she dressed quickly and decided to go down to the pitch to watch the team practice. When she reached the top of the Gryffindor stands, she was surprised to find that she wasn't alone. Ron was sitting in the middle of the bleachers, staring up at a certain black-haired seeker with a goofy smile on his face.

Harry will be happy. At least she's gotten his attention… even if he does favor Hermione. The great prat. I want green-eyed black-haired nieces and nephews! She giggled to herself and snuck up behind him. Leaning down to his ear, she drew in a deep breath and shouted, "OI RON!"

He squealed in a higher pitch than she doubted even Harry could.

"Smooth, Ronniekins."

He glared at her, clutching his chest. "Piss off! You scared me half to death!"

Ginny giggled. "Yes… I noticed."

One of the twins sailed past them on his broom, yelling, "Pipe down you wankers!" We're practicing!"

Ron stuck up two fingers as Ginny plopped down in the seat next to him. "Sooo… what brings you out of bed before breakfast, Ron?" she asked with a knowing smile plastered across her face.

"Nothing."

Ginny snorted. "Bollocks. Harry looks really nice with a bit of make-up on, doesn't she Ron?"

He refused to answer her, but his pink ears told her everything she needed to know.

Ginny leaned back to watch the 'best chance Gryffindor has had in years to win the cup,' practice.

Harry made everything look so easy. Her flying was more art than sport. She did triple corkscrews, sloth rolls, hundred meter dives, Tungle Loops, Wronski Feints, Ballentine Turns, and McShea Twists. She was made for the air. Ginny found it hilarious that the Captain, Oliver Wood, missed several shots because he had been watching slack-jawed as Harry executed Chaser formation breaks with absolute perfection.

When practice ended, Ginny rushed down to the changing rooms to tell her about Ron and the time she had lost. Fred and George tried to stop her at the entrance. "Only one ickle squirt-" said Fred.

"-allowed at a time," finished George.

Ginny swatted them both on the sides of their heads and marched proudly into the girls' lockers. The air was thick with smell broom polish. It made her feel a bit lightheaded. Harry was sitting on a bench, chatting with a brown-haired girl and dutifully rubbing her broom down with Fleetwood's High-Finish Handle Polish. She smiled when she saw Ginny walking towards her. "Hey Gin… were you watching?"

Ginny nodded and sat next to her. "Yeah. You looked brilliant, Harry. Guess who else got up early to watch you?"

Harry smiled like Christmas had come early. "He did?"

"Yup…and I have something else to tell you," said Ginny.

"What is it?"

Wait. Ginny's mind went painfully blank. What was I going to say? "I… I can't… remember," she whispered, perplexed.

It felt like, whatever it was, it was hovering just out of her reach, like someone was dangling it above her fingertips, pulling it away when she moved closer. She knew that what she had to tell Harry was important too; extremely important… and yet… nothing.

Harry patted Ginny's knee. "It'll come to you. That happens to me all the time. And then, when I'm thinking about something completely random like… I dunno, a Satsuma, it'll just pop right back into my head."

"Why were you thinking about Satsumas?"

"Because," said Harry with a silly grin on her face, "I like to say Satsuma."

"I think your brain might be a Satsuma," replied Ginny.

For the four days left in the week, Ginny thought of Satsumas, trying desperately to remember what it was she needed to tell Harry… but the thought never came to her. It nagged at the back of her mind; it was like a festering cut that she desperately wanted to itch.

Ginny tried to put it out of her mind as she walked down to the Quidditch pitch with Harry on Saturday morning. She had to prepare herself. In just three practices, Fred and George had dubbed Ginny 'the official mascot of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team.' Just because I show up to watch Harry fly. Gits.

And it had caught on.

Wood, fanatic that he was, had given her a uniform and exuberantly told her that it was her 'duty as a Gryffindor' to stand in the crowds and garner support. Despite Harry's protests that it wasn't fair for them to make her do it, Ginny had agreed. It felt nice to be 'a part' of the team. Harry had then insisted that Oliver let her have a tryout for reserve seeker and chaser. And that tryout… was now. She tried not to think about it and tuned back in to Harry's rant.

"- and Lockhart is just… UGH… you know?" asked Harry disgustedly. "He wants an entire essay about how he singlehandedly defeated an army of malicious ghouls. Single-handedly my foot!"

"He's not as bad as Snape though, is he?"

"Well… yeah, I suppose not. I can't believe he's treating you like that, just because you're my friend."

The potions master had been treating Ginny rather horribly; picking on her almost as much as he did Harry. He would glare at her and mutter about red hair under his breath.

In the changing rooms, Ginny slipped into a practice uniform while she listened to Oliver give an attempt at a rousing morale-boosting speech through the wall. He was still going when she finished so Ginny stepped out onto the field to do some practice loops on the school-owned Cleensweep.

She had just started to shake out her nerves when Harry soared up next to her and asked excitedly, "You ready?"

All her nervousness flooded back into her body. Harry must have noticed her expression as they looped the field, because she drifted closer and caught Ginny's arm. Their charms spun to meet in midair. "Just fly how we fly together," she cried out above the wind.

Ginny nodded, uncertainty washed away by Harry's reassuring pearly-white smile; a smile that shone just for her. The little ache in her chest abated if only for a moment.

Angelina Johnson lobbed her the Quaffle and she caught it deftly. It felt so much different than the old ratty one they had at home. She tried to adjust accordingly in her mind for its weight as she blasted toward the posts as fast as the broom could carry her. No wind. About two kilo's lighter. I don't have the strength to get it past him on the inside hoop.

Right then. Three out of five. Let's go.

Right at the shooting line she wrenched the broom upwards, tossed Quaffle downwards, looped upside down, came around, and pounded the falling red ball towards the left hoop with her fist.

"GOAL!" The twins shouted simultaneously. "An eleven year old girl-"

"-puts one past Wood! For shame!"

Ginny smirked appreciatively at the shocked look on the Captain's face. He had clearly underestimated her.

She did manage to put away three, but she was pretty sure he let one go in on purpose. Back on the ground, Harry jumped on her and they fell to the ground giggling.

A deep voice rang out across the pitch, "Awww, that's precious innit?"

A group of people in green and silver robes were walking onto the field, shiny broomsticks in hand.

Wood slammed into the ground next to them, staggering slightly as he dismounted the broom. "FLINT!" he yelled at the large gorilla-like Slytherin captain. "This is our practice time! We get the morning slot! You can clear off now!"

"Plenty of room for all of us Wood," Flint said nastily in his disturbingly low pitched drawl.

"BUT I BOOKED THE BLOODY FIELD. I BOOKED IT!"

"Ah," whispered Flint. "But I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. 'I Prof-' "

Harry snatched the note out of his hands so fast Ginny had only seen a blur. She promptly tore it up. "Professor Snape can stuff it."

"I'll tell him you said so, Harry." The blonde boy from Flourish and Blotts, Draco Malfoy, stepped through the larger Slytherin players. He had a sly smile on his face as he leaned on a shiny black broom that read, 'Nimbus 2001,' on the handle. The rest of the team carried identical broomsticks.

Harry stomped up to him. "I knew you bought your way onto the team you slimy git. Seventy Thousand galleons that could have gone to a good cause went towards boosting your pride."

Flint stepped forward, "Back off you spoilt little snot. Draco here made the team before we even knew about the brooms. I'd say he could give you a run for your money."

"Prove it. Play us. Right here… right now." Harry shoved the giant boy, but only managed to push herself backwards onto the ground. Ginny ran forward as the Slytherins laughed uproariously but Malfoy had already offered her his hand. She saw something unspoken pass between the two… and Harry took it. Harry gave him a funny look and said again, "Prove it."

No referees, practice padding only, and two groups of people that disliked each other greatly led to one bloody ferocious game. Harry took hit after hit. Ginny flinched as Flint crushed her friend against the wall of the pitch.

But she didn't go down. She'll… she'll never go down.

Malfoy was indeed 'proving it.' He matched Harry in skill for the first twenty minutes of the game, his far superior broom even giving him the edge until...the black-haired girl got angry. She was suddenly going faster than anyone on the field; pulling impossible turns; sweeping the grass on impossible diving feints; barreling through every formation that the Slytherins managed to organize.

Ginny spotted a flash of gold right below her. The Snitch was hovering not ten feet from the ground! Harry was of course already shooting towards it from across the field, Malfoy hot on her heels, the entire rest of the Slytherin team between her and the little golden ball.

Neither of them will get it when they all defensively clump like that. It will disappear again.

And then… Harry did something that Ginny would never, in her entire life, forget.

She jumped.

She jumped right off her broom, pushing it downwards underneath the oncoming group. In mid-air, she placed a foot on the back of a Slytherin and jumped again to the next player. She then leapt towards the Snitch in a beautiful swan dive, catching the little ball with a scream of triumph. She and Harry were almost close enough to touch. Green eyes flashed towards Ginny's and for a moment, time slowed. The colors of the world spiraled in exotic harmony; interconnecting and shifting about. Harry and her emerald eyes were the only real things left in the blurry world.

And then she fell.

CRUNCH.

The girl slammed into the side of the stands and Ginny heard the disgusting sound of snapping bone. Trembling with worry, she took the stairs to the ground entire flights at a time. Worming her way into the tight-knit circle of players, she knelt next to a battered Harry.

Her nose and leg were clearly broken, and by the way she was clutching her chest, Ginny bet that some ribs had snapped as well. "Harry," she said in a whisper. "You… you idiot! Why would you do something like that? It wasn't even a real game!"

Harry winced, squeezing out a few tears of pain, but she smiled at the same time. Two of her front teeth were missing. "Every game is a real game," she mumbled back with a gasp.

Madame Pomfrey tutted loudly when Wood and surprisingly, Flint had carried Harry into the Hospital Wing. She said it would take hours to heal her up due to some internal damage.

Before he left, Flint stuck out his hand towards Harry and grunted. She shook it warily and the enormous boy left with another grunt.

Ginny saw Harry's eyes flit to Malfoy. He nodded and she nodded back in another unspoken understanding. The blonde boy left quietly as well. One by one the players filed out, saying their cheerful goodbyes, or in the Slytherins' cases, giving appreciative grunts.

Soon, it was just she and Harry left in the Hospital wing.

"You're a nut case," said Ginny quietly.

"I know," replied Harry with a soft smile.

Ginny put her head down on Harry's arm. "Completely bonkers."

"I know."

"A total-"

"I get it, Gin." Harry said, rubbing Ginny's hand and closing her eyes to have a rest.

It was a short rest. Hermione and Ron burst into the Hospital wing a few minutes later. Ron rather poorly expressed his outrage that she had jumped off a broom by waving his arms and shouting random bits of phrase like, "I NEVER!" and "SO YOU WANT!" Hermione on the other hand, said nothing, but she scoffed rather excessively.

Harry ultimately had to clap loudly to get their attention. "Guys, I'm fine!"

"Like hell you are," said her brother. "Internal bleeding is what Fred told me. Bloody hell, Harry! You could have died! Just to win a game. I love Quidditch but I loooooost your quill." His ears went pink. Out of the corner of her eye Ginny saw Hermione fidget and move closer to Ron.

Harry giggled. "I lost your quill too, Ron. But I just… I dunno. I had a point to prove. I love the game, and no one is going to treat it like it's a joke by buying their entire team top end brooms to outstrip everyone else and win even when you lack the talent."

"You were amazing out there, Harry," said Ginny quietly. She understood… sort of. "I've never seen anything like it."

Harry's brilliant emeralds searched her face and her thumb reached out to caress Ginny's hand. "Thanks, Gin."

An hour later, around noon, Ginny left the Hospital wing to get some lunch. She was just about to turn the corner to leave the second floor corridor, when someone behind her whispered in her ear. "Ginny."

She whirled around, pulling out her wand, shivering from… What is this?

Her clothes were soaking wet.

"What?" cried Ginny out loud. Did someone spell me? "OI! Whoever did that is going to get it!"

There was no one around though.

Something was nagging at the back of her mind. Something she had to tell Harry. Something really important… but... she couldn't remember. It slipped through her fingers like sand.

Grumbling moodily, Ginny trooped back to Gryffindor Tower to change. It was surprisingly full considering it was lunchtime. She changed as quickly as she could because she was absolutely starving. Flipping her hair in the mirror, she glanced at the clock.

She glanced again.

She outright stared at it.

4:30 PM

It all flooded back to her. The Chamber, the Snake, THE DIARY! TOM! OH GOD! HARRY!

"Ginny," whispered a voice from behind her, somewhere near the bed.

She sat up in bed.

"Hello?"

No answer.

The clock read 6:00 PM.

Just a dream then. I must have dozed off. Oh Merlin, I'm starving.

Something was nagging at the back of her mind. Something she had to tell Harry. Something really important… but... she couldn't remember. It slipped through her fingers like sand.

At dinner that night, Professor McGonagall came over to her and said, "There you are, Miss Weasley. I've been looking for you all day. Your detention with Professor Snape will take place tonight. He expects you in the dungeons at seven o' clock sharp. Don't be late."

0000

"Kill."

Harry's eyes snapped open and she sat up.

"Come… come to me.… Let me rip you.… Let me tear you…. Let me kill you…."

"Hello?" whispered Harry into the still air of the darkened Hospital wing. "Who's there?"

There was no answer.

"Hello?" she shouted loudly.

Madam Pomfrey's office door swung open and the medi-witch came bustling out with a slightly annoyed look on her face. "No need to shout, Deary."

"Oh, no," said Harry quickly. "I wasn't calling you, Madam Pomfrey. I thought I heard a voice. I definitely heard a voice."

Madame Pomfrey chuckled. "The walls are silenced, Miss. Potter. We are the only people in the wing. I was playing a bit of music on the wireless however… Perhaps you misheard it?

I don't think so. "Yeah… maybe you're right." Harry twisted her body experimentally. "Madam Pomfrey... I know it's late but would it be alright for me to go back to Gryffindor Tower? I don't sleep well here."

The matron frowned. "Say ah."

"Ahhhhhhhhh."

The woman pointed her wand at Harry's mouth and did several complex spells. "Yes, I suppose that will be alright, Miss Potter. You've healed very nicely. I'll just give you a pass. Let's avoid jumping off brooms from now on, shall we?

"Yes Ma'am."

Back at the tower, Harry opened the door to 'their room' quietly, not wanting to wake Ginny. She crept in, only to find that Ginny wasn't asleep. She was sitting upright in bed, staring at the grandfather clock, a look of misery on her face, dark circles under her eyes.

"Gin!" Harry cried, rushing to her side, extremely concerned. "What's wrong?"

"Harry! Oh thank god! I have to... to tell you... to tell..." Ginny trailed off, gazing intently at the clock.

Harry rubbed her back supportively. "Have to tell me what, Gin?"

Ginny opened her mouth, but no words came out.

CRASH

Frances' pot crashed to the floor, and the little cactus rolled to a stop at her feet. One of his tiny branches had snapped off and he was squinting at her, clearly upset. She picked him up, repaired his clay pot, and found the source of his fall from the window-sill. Alice was squirming violently around on the stone, twisting her thin body in ways that surely should have been hurting her.

Harry picked her up gently.

Alice constricted in a painfully tight coil around Harry's wrist and bit down upon her hand.

"Ouch!" cried Harry. "Alice! What's wrong?"

"The king hass come!" Alice dropped onto the table twisting and flailing.

Harry ogled her. "What?"

"The King hass come! The King hass come! The King hass come! The King hass come! The King hass come!..."

Harry covered her ears to block out the tiny snake's thunderous yells. Even though she could not hear the hiss, Alice's voice still echoed in her mind.

"The King hass come. The King hass come. The King hass come. The King hass come!" Alice stopped twisting. "Death hass come, Chica."

"What do you mean? Alice, I don't understand!"

But Alice did not speak again. She coiled tightly, hiding her head from Harry's view.

Frustrated, she walked back over to Ginny, who was still staring at the clock. When Harry took her hands, the redhead jumped a foot in the air. "Oh, Harry! You're back. You scared me. Are you alright? You look all pale. Here, get in." Ginny wiggled over and patted the bed, smiling at her as if absolutely nothing was wrong.

"I scared you? You scared me! What the bloody hell was that?"

Ginny cocked her head and smiled at her as if she was joking around. "What was what?"

Harry laughed. "Were you having me on? You were all... I dunno. And you said you needed to tell me something."

"Yeah, I do... still can't remember what it is though." She pulled Harry downwards onto the bed. "I've been thinking about Satsumas day and night. Come on, get in. I need a hug."

0000

Check out my profile for a link to this story's Fan-Art page. Contains some NSFW content.

New art up.

Review! Feedback really is appreciated even though I update regardless.

Looking for nitpicky betas- grammar specific

Had so much fun writing this chapter.

You may be asking why Ron is so much more aware of Hermione than in canon. The answer is Harry. She knocked into him outside the train station bathroom causing him to meet Hermione before they even got on the train… which leads to him helping her with the suitcase… and the wiping of his nose while he stood baffled… and the rather insensitive comments he made to her on the train… which intrinsically leads to everything else. It always comes back to Harry.

Harry couldn't recognize the language as Parseltongue because she couldn't hear the hiss from the pipes. Just like in canon, she only hears the voice inside her mind.