Much thanks to my beta, Empress Malfoy!

---

Ginny walked slowly through the slick floors that had appeared to her in dreams so many times before. Slime covered the walls and if one looked past that pipe, there would be a snake skin, shed by what must have been an unusually large snake. She felt nervous, but she had been here so many times that it almost felt like home.

There he was again. Tom Riddle, bane of her existence and he who troubled her every thought, was leaning against a pillar in the Chamber of Secrets.

“Ginny, darling,” he drawled, “can’t we just talk?” He smiled, and it was very handsome indeed, and Ginny was feeling fairly trusting. Tom sauntered towards her, finally standing very near her body. He grasped a strand of her red hair and twirled it between his fingers. “Always loved the hair, Gin,” he murmured.

She simply stood, slightly shaking. Even though he was only playing with her hair, she felt somehow violated. Ginny felt hatred like no other for him, yet he was somehow allowed to stroke her hair—she was far too terrified to fight back. He met her eyes, his face an inch away from hers. His lovely brow was wrinkled.

“Darling, are you frightened?”

She shook her head slowly, mesmerized by his hypnotic turquoise eyes. He smirked.

“That’s my girl.”

He leaned in, breathing softly on her neck. Ginny thought she might pass out with the strange combination of emotions she was feeling—lust, suspicion, anger, and deep, deep anxiety. Her eyelids fluttered, and with that, he plunged the dagger into her chest. She left out a gentle gasp, falling. He held her close and twisted it a little deeper. As Ginny’s form fell to the ground, Tom spat on her. His lips twisted into what could have been considered a grin.

“You’re mine, Ginevra.”

Ginny woke with a gasp, frantically patting her chest. She looked down—no blood, no dagger, no Tom. Still breathing quite heavily, she leaned back against her pillow and curled into a ball. This was the third dream—no, nightmare this week. Ginny fell asleep quickly after, forgetting about the dream, just as she had the ones before it. Nonetheless, spellbinding eyes and gruesome daggers disturbed her with each blink of an eye.

---

Someone was shaking her. Ginny slowly opened an eyelid and, from her position on her stomach, looked up at the culprit. Annabelle Marquis was an overachiever that seemed to be competing for Hermione Granger’s legacy, as far as being a goodie-two-shoes was concerned.

“Weasley, you need to wake up.”

Shifting her head into her pillow, Ginny moaned.

“We’ll lose house points, Ginevra.” At that note, she opted to awaken, if only to make Annabelle annoy someone elsewhere. Ginny tumbled out of bed, giving her a glare.

“Happy now?” Ginny asked with a scowl.

Annabelle gave her a tight smile. “That’s my girl.”

Ginny’s back stiffened, and her eyes darted toward Annabelle, who was straightening her tie. Why had that phrase given her such a chill?

“What did you just say?”

She rolled her eyes. “Blimey, Ginny, you’re the crankiest, weirdest person in the morning I’ve ever known since Seamus Finnegan.”

Ginny muttered an apology.

“No matter, I’m very accepting. Oh, and your friend Loony—I mean, Luna, her owl kept pecking me this morning with a message for you.” She practically chucked the rolled-up parchment at Ginny. “I am going to breakfast, you may follow.” Annabelle turned up her nose and strode out the door.

Ginny was bewildered, but didn’t think much of it. Unrolling the mail, she read the message.

Meet me in the library before breakfast. Need to tell you something.

-Luna

She stuffed the note in her pocket and hastily put on her clothes, brushed her teeth and hair, and walked out of the dormitory, where her boyfriend Dean Thomas was waiting for her.

He smiled. “Fancy seeing you here!” He kissed her cheek and held her hand, bouncing it around. “Are we going to breakfast or not?”

Ginny couldn’t help but grin. That was the general effect Dean had on her. He was sweet, and it was admittedly nice to have a companion, someone expected to put his arms around her shoulders and be hers.

As they walked to the Common Room, Dean was distracted by Seamus, who simply insisted on showing him something or another, and Ginny was left to walk to breakfast by herself.

She clutched her satchel, pretending it was a shield against whatever seemed to be troubling her subconscious. She could have sworn that a big, black shape seemed to be following her. Ginny checked behind and saw nothing, but she could feel a presence. Whether it was her overactive imagination or a shadowy stalker, whatever it was made her walk so quickly that she almost ran over someone. That someone happened to drop their books. She knelt down to help when she noticed silvery blond hair. Bollocks.

“Watch where you’re going, Weasley. Or should I say Virginia?”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “My name’s not Virginia, you idiot. It’s Ginevra, actually.”

Malfoy shrugged. “Same difference. Filth like you doesn’t deserve a name anyway.”

Like a true Weasley, Ginny acted before she thought about it later. She punched Malfoy on the arm. Hard.

“Fuck!” He rubbed his bicep. “You’ve got a sharp jab, Weasley. Better than your brother’s, anyway. But then again, I think that plant over there could fight better than him.”

She sighed. “You’re just bitter about your old man being thrown in Azkaban. How’s that going, by the way? Has he gone mad yet?”

Malfoy stopped what he was doing and looked her squarely in her eyes. “Don’t you say a bloody word about my family, Weasley. Not a word.”

“Aww, is somebody touchy?” And before they could get into a full-fledged fist fight, she started to leave.

There was a silent sort of fury on his face that seemed to scream, ‘How dare you leave me!’ “Darling,” he said with an icy sarcasm, “can’t we just talk?”

Ginny dropped her satchel. She turned around quickly and stared at him, clearly in a sort of trance. He shook his hand around several times.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Weasley? You’re acting like you did when you were strangling those bloody chickens. By the way, think you could show me the Chamber of Secrets someday? I’d love to take a trip.”

She turned sharply around. “How did you know about that?”

Malfoy shrugged. “Father knows best. He told me you’re the one you attacked all those people. I guess that’s why you put him away—hey, where are you going?”

Whatever Draco (or his father, for that matter) was saying didn’t matter to Ginny at that moment. She finally realized what was happening. Tom Riddle was back in her life. She walked away purposely, a goal in mind, knowing she had to investigate him once more. Why was he haunting her again? Was there some sort of connection that she didn’t know about?

Her pace sped up, and soon enough, she arrived in the library. Luna was sitting alone in a table towards the back, an uncommonly solemn look on her face. Ginny took a seat.

“What’s wrong, Luna?”

“I dreamt of my mother last night.”

Ginny gave a sympathetic glance. She covered Luna’s hand with her own.

“That’s not it.” Luna’s spooky, light blue eyes met hers. “You were in it. I mean, not directly, but there was this man. Our age, extraordinarily handsome, but there was something…off about him. And he—he kept saying these nasty, awful things about you, Ginny, but he said that you were the key. He kept mentioning the Chamber of Secrets. It’s all fuzzy, I can’t remember much.”

Ginny swallowed the overwhelming lump forming in her throat.

“His eyes…I remember his eyes in particular. They were this peculiar blue-green color, and they just oozed of power. He scared me so much…do you know him, Ginny? Who is that awful man? I mean, he accused you of my mother’s death, which can’t be true…what’s going on, Ginny?”

She licked her lips. “There is something I need to tell you, Luna.”

Luna sat stunned. “You mean…wow. What can I say, Ginny?”

Ginny shrugged, a blush starting on her cheeks. “You’re one of a very select few that knows the truth.” She looked at Luna’s face, glowing with curiosity. One could always tell when she wanted to ask a question—her eyes got an inquisitive spark to them, probably from having a newspaper editor (even if the newspaper was The Quibbler) as a father. “Is there anything else you wanted to know?”

She gave an excited nod and played with her turnip earrings in anticipation. “If it’s not too bold to ask…did you see any Three-Legged Gorglebunks down there?”

Biting her lip, Ginny tried very hard not to laugh. She could always count on Luna, intentionally or not, to make a dark situation lighter. “I might have seen one, but maybe it was the Toenail of Icklibõgg.”

She struggled for breath. “You mean…THE Toenail of Icklibõgg? Why didn’t you get it? You know of its magical healing properties, not to mention the rumors that it vanquishes evil!”

“Well, erm,” Ginny squirmed in her seat, “I couldn’t really tell if it was, it just kind of resembled it. For all I know,” she gave a nervous laugh, “it could have been just a Sparkling Hoovylump.”

Luna shook her head. “It’s always a close call with that one.” She squinted her eyes in a prideful manner. “I’ve seen at least three Sparkling Hoovylumps in my field experience.”

Any amount of lip-biting could not stop Ginny from giggling.

“What is it?” Luna asked, concerned. She thought that Ginny was crying, not laughing. “Is there something else you wanted to tell me?”

Ginny smiled. “Nothing, Luna. I mean, you’re the only person I’ve told since my first year. Completely voluntarily, I might add. I just—”

Luna shrugged. “It’s ok. I don’t think of you any differently, if that’s what you’re wondering. By the way you acted second and third year, I always figured something tragic happened in your past. Not to mention the gossip in the halls that innocent Ginny Weasley was the killer. I never believed those, though…there was a reporter for The Quibbler who insisted that it was all a terrible plot concocted by Giant Squid. I suppose he was misinformed.” She got a dreamy expression in her eyes, the one that told a person her mind was very, very far away. Ginny, however, was extremely comforted. Luna was a bit offbeat, but she could be trusted and considered a good friend, indeed.

Breaking off their contented silence, Neville entered the library. He stumbled awkwardly to their table, nearly in tears. At the sight of an intensely distressed boy, Ginny’s mood plummeted to gravity and seriousness. He held a note in his hand and seemed like he was trying very hard to control himself.

“What’s wrong, Neville?” Luna asked, concerned.

He didn’t say anything, but pushed a parchment in front of their faces.

Drop out of Herbology or the toad gets it.

Luna took a sharp intake of breath. Ginny furrowed her brow. “Who sent this?” She flipped the paper, examining it. She found no signature, no evidence.

Neville shrugged. “I don’t know. I got it this morning. But—but Trevor has been missing for two days. Who would do this?” On that note, he finally took a seat, resting his head on his arms. Luna absentmindedly patted his back.

“Could you—could you help me find him? I mean,” he raised his head up, “you all are my friends. Right?”

Luna and Ginny bobbed their heads up and down eagerly, perfectly in unison.

Neville nodded distractedly himself. “Thanks. Harry, Ron, and Hermione have more important things than to track down a ransomed toad.”

Ginny’s eyes widened. “They said that?”

“Well, no,” Neville rested his chin on his hand, “but I know that’s what they would think, if I asked them. Despite everything the six of us went through together last year, there’s no penetrating that trio. So I propose we start our own.” With that, his back straightened, and his face was so determined that Draco Malfoy himself probably wouldn’t be able to say no.

“Erm, sure. Anything you’d like, Neville,” Ginny said, giving him a kind smile. Luna agreed.

Neville cleared his throat, “I think our first order of business is to find out who kidnapped my toad.”

Ginny touched Neville’s arm. “Don’t worry about it, Neville. I’ll get to the bottom of this for you, okay? Just worry about that Herbology essay contest coming up.”

Neville Longbottom had the highest marks in the school as far as Herbology was concerned. In fact, if he aced this essay and kept up his good marks, he could be sure of a tidy sum of Galleons connected to a secure occupation in the future.

“Neville,” Ginny said slowly, “I’m going to ask again. Can you think of anyone who would abduct your toad? Anyone?”

Neville, Ginny, and Luna all seemed to come to a realization at the same time. Who else would be cruel enough to do this? “Draco Malfoy,” the trio whispered. Ginny abruptly stood up from her seat, ready to spy on someone who would get his comeuppance.

---

Paintings, Ginny discovered, are an underused resource in seeking a person. One of a man, who claimed to be a former headmaster, said that Draco had gone to a secret room behind the state of Moogly the Holy. One had to scratch the statue’s head and whisper, “Dogma.” She crept around the corner, followed the painting’s instructions, and surely enough, a door had cracked open. Ginny peered in. Draco wasn’t alone. Lucius Malfoy, who was supposed to be in Azkaban prison, was in the room also. It wasn’t actually him, though—just an apparition that appeared on a mirror on the wall. Nevertheless, Ginny had to clamp a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming.

Draco was pacing. “What do you want, Father? You know communication is dangerous.”

His father’s face was grim. “Of course I know. What do you take me for, a Mudblood? I know how risky this is. But I needed to tell you something before you saw it in The Quibbler or some rubbish periodical like that. Your mother has gone missing.”

Draco stopped pacing. Ginny held her breath.

“What?” he asked quietly.

The elder Malfoy sneered. “You heard me, boy. I’ve still got connections, and they know to tell the public that it’s all rubbish, but in case the truth leaks out somehow, just deny it.”

“Where,” Draco calmly inquired, “did she go?” There was a dangerous tone in his voice that made Ginny nervously nibble her fingernail.

“I don’t know, and frankly, it is not of my concern. Let her off herself, just as long as she doesn’t make too big of a fuss.”

Nodding, Draco added, “I understand.”

At this, Lucius Malfoy presented a very cold smile. “That’s my son. I think the guards…well, they are Dementors, they seem rather indifferent, their version of fond I’d imagine, to me. I doubt they’d care if I ran away, but I’m waiting for the Dark Lord to receive me.”

“That sounds like a good plan,” his son said quietly.

“I’ve got other business in this place to take care of. Goodbye, son.” With that, the apparition disappeared. And much to Ginny’s surprise, Draco’s whole demeanor changed—he suddenly was the epitome of anguish, kicking the wall with a cry of indignation. At that moment, he reminded her of Harry, and it scared her a little bit. She decided that she couldn’t get any clues if she stayed anyway, and planned her attack for tomorrow.

Slowly closing the door, so as not to disturb Malfoy’s tirade, she crept back to the common room. How did Lucius Malfoy, trapped in the most horrifying place on earth since the Chamber of Secrets, manage to communicate with his son? Ginny would have investigated more had she not realized how late it had gotten…it must have been almost seven or so. Classes started again tomorrow (weekends parted with such sweet sorrow), and she needed to study for a Transfiguration quiz. Even though she still had time to go back before she was considered late, Ginny felt that stealth would be in her best interest—not many students traveled to this part of the castle, after all. Wand in hand, she whispered, “Lumos.” It was then that she became aware of a shadow behind her. Ginny froze. Should she pretend that she hadn’t seen this stalker and keep walking, or deal with it face to face?

Embracing her Gryffindor spirit, she confronted it. “Who’s there?” she asked in a firm voice. No one answered, but the shadow stayed.

Ginny lifted her chin. “Fine. But you’ll find that I’ve fought many a Death Eater,” she thought of Luna, “in my field experience. Your loss, I suppose.”

It was clear that whatever was following her wasn’t going to reveal itself, so she opted to keep going on her way. The whole time, she felt its presence, but it still wouldn’t come out. Soon enough, she reached the Fat Lady’s door (“Where have you been, miss?”), and when she got inside, she exhaled a breath of relief.

Ginny suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of drowsiness. She crawled into bed, preparing herself for the dreams to envelop her unconscious once more.

---

Not surprisingly, she was in the Chamber of Secrets once again. This time, Tom was lying on the floor, hands behind his head, as if he were in a field looking at the stars. “Hello there,” he said softly. He stood up, brushing himself off. Ginny simply stood in fear, as she always did.

Tom reached out and touched her shoulder. “Why this panic, Ginny?” he asked in a falsely kind voice. She couldn’t speak, she was always unable to.

Turning his head, he scoffed. “I bet your people find you incredibly boring,” he said condescendingly, and then his voice softened, “but the more still and quiet you are, the better.”

Ginny merely stared ahead. She felt like one of those patients at St. Mungo’s who couldn’t speak or even move, who just laid in their beds as if they were in a coma, but could still see and hear things, just not respond to them. If Ginny could move, she would have shivered, imagining how terrible it would be to live like that. Or worse, know someone close who was in that state.

Tom started to circle around her. “Poor ickle Ginny Weasley. She can’t do a thing, the miserable coward.” He started to laugh. “Where’s that infamous Gryffindor courage? Or, what, do you expect your precious Potter to save you?”

He slapped her. “Can’t fight back, can you? I always figured you for a pathetic one. Now,” he reached into his robes, “I need to give you something. But before that—”

Tom cradled her head and kissed her brow. An uncontrollable feeling of warmth spread through her, and Ginny hated herself for taking pleasure in it.

“When will you realize, my dear, that I only want the best for you?” he murmured. He stroked her arm. “Ginevra, this is where you belong.”

Like in every dream, he struck her chest with that strange dagger. She crumpled to the ground, hands clutching the hilt. As she slowly sprawled down on the floor, blood forming a pool around her, Tom kicked her.

Ginny awoke. She took deep breaths. Now that she could remember the dreams, there was no way she could go back to sleep. For the rest of the night, she sat in the common room, studying Transfiguration. She knew that the shadow was near her, but this time, she felt an odd sense of reassurement.

---

She was in the library as soon as it opened the next morning. Ginny sat in silence in an empty table, content with her thoughts. The only other person in the room was Annabelle Marquis, fervently studying Meet My Mimbulus Mimbletonia. Twiddling her thumbs, Ginny waited for breakfast to start. Much to her chagrin, Draco Malfoy sauntered into the library, looking at books in an aisle in the very back. Ginny knew this was the perfect opportunity. Wand in hand, she determinedly stormed over to him. Catching him by surprise, she shoved him against a bookcase and hissed, “Stop harassing Neville or I will ruin your life.”

Time seemed to stop, as Draco and Ginny stared as each other, the tension running deep. Draco pushed her away, a scowl twisting his features. “What in the bloody hell are you talking about, Weasley? Have you not been eating lately? Merlin’s beard, I can give you, say, crumbs from my food if you’d like. I suppose that’s what you’re used to anyway.” He smirked.

Ginny pursed her lips and crossed her arms. “I am not fucking around, Malfoy. Just give Neville back his toad, okay?”

He wrinkled his nose. “Why in the bloody hell would I steal his toad?”

“Because—because, it’s something to do with that Herbology contest. I bet his grades are ahead of yours and you hate him anyway because you’re a mean person and you’re just…you ruin people’s lives, Malfoy!” She started to breathe heavily. He held his hands back in a gesture of surrender. His stance, however, was still highly arrogant.

“Whoa. Somebody has issues. Don’t take them out on me, I’m sure St. Mungo’s has professionals that could help you. Free of charge, I’d wager. And I don’t care about Herbology or bloody Longbottom or you. Could you just leave me alone, Weasley? I don’t know why you find me so irresistible, but the feeling? Is not returned.” He drove her out of the aisle. “I have to get a book, after all. I’m not sure if your people know, but that’s what libraries are for.”

Ginny stalked away, turning her head around to give him one last furious glance.

“Berk,” she muttered, even though she knew he couldn’t hear her.

Malfoy was the most insufferable lad that she’d ever met, which was quite an accomplishment, considering Ronald Weasley was her brother. Luckily for her, it was time for breakfast, and leaving the library, she joined Neville in the Great Hall.

“I got another one,” he cried miserably, brandishing the note. She grabbed it from his hands.

Fail Herbology, drop out, ruin your chances…or you’ll find a toad nailed to your door.

Ginny shook her head. “Who would be terrible enough to do this?” she asked.

Neville shrugged. “I thought you had someone in mind?”

“My first suspect, Malfoy, didn’t do it. What are the details of this Herbology essay thing? Who all is it open to?” Ginny furrowed her brow. She rather fancied this detective-like job, even though it was at the expense of her friend’s pet.

“Fifth through seventh years,” Neville explained. “It’s not open to prefects or Head Boy or Girl, since they kind of have prime opportunities in life in the first place. It’s just for everybody else, I guess. But to get the scholarship, you need top marks in Herbology and a really well-written essay.”

If only I had asked earlier, I could have avoided that whole episode with Malfoy, Ginny thought. But of course, she added mentally, a wicked grin curling her lips, it’s always fun to push him around.

“Now,” said Ginny aloud in a business-like tone, “I’m guessing you had the top marks in Herbology?”

Neville nodded.

“Do you know who had the second-highest marks?” she inquired.

With a sad frown, Neville shook his head. Ginny, on the other hand, grinned.

“This will be easy, I’m sure of it. We’ll get Trevor back soon enough, okay?”

Neville smiled back and her and finally decided to eat. He scooped some eggs onto his plate.

“I heard some people say you were sitting in the common room last night. What were you doing?”

Ginny shrugged. “Oh, I was just—damn, I left my Transfiguration book upstairs! Listen, Neville, I’ll be right back.” With that, she sped towards the Gryffindor Tower.

Sprinting through the halls and greeting portraits, she gave the password (‘superflu’), and entered the room. She found her book, stuffed into a corner of the sofa. She breathed a sigh of relief. Ginny also remember that she had a box of Sugar Quills stored under her bed—she had time to eat a snack, she needed some relaxation anyway. She got a cherry-flavored one (her personal favorite), and started to chew on it when she noticed something in the corner. The shadow. She dropped the candy and walked slowly towards it.

“I know you’re there, whatever you are,” she whispered boldly. The shadow simply stood. She took another step towards it, when she saw something that made her realize what exactly it was.

“Sirius?” she asked, as the shadow came forward, revealing a large black dog. Ginny took a quivering gasp, her hand outstretched. “Is that you?”

I would like to thank my beta for the last chapters, Empress Malfoy, and my lovely substitute beta while she is away, LTDan. :)

---

The dog simply stood, tail wagging in a calmly playful manner. There was no doubt in her mind at the time it was Sirius—no other animal Ginny had ever seen had those knowing, haunted grey eyes. She fell back into the chair. It walked toward her, sitting at her feet. Her hand shaking, she reached out to touch it. Her hand passed right through what would have been the fur. Too shocked to do much else, she settled back into the chair, her mind reeling.

What if it wasn’t Sirius? What if it was the Grim? Her Uncle Bilius had seen one, and twenty-four hours later he died, as Ron once told her. She peeked at the black dog out of the corner of her eye. It looked back, with a steady stare. Ginny glanced away, gulping. Haven’t I had enough brushes with death?, she thought.

No, it surely couldn’t be the Grim. Ginny tried to think back to Divination—usually she was nearly asleep, but she might have paid attention at some point. She cursed the law of nature that when one was trying to think of something deeply important, they immediately forgot it until it is much too late. The more Ginny tried to remember, the more she couldn’t recall. If only somebody had written a book about the Grim before they died—

Of course! Her Divination book was up in her room, where she probably should have been anyway. She hoped the Grim happened to be in the textbook, anyway. With one last glimpse at the dog, Ginny crept upstairs, where she promptly bumped into something.

Shaken by the events of the night so far, Ginny couldn’t help but gasp. “Sorry,” she muttered, looking down, ready to continue on her seemingly life-or-death quest.

Whoever she bumped into chuckled. It seemed very familiar...

“Dean,” she asked, “is that you?”

“Since we’re in the dark, does that give me an excuse to mistakenly grope you?”

She rolled her eyes, and Dean must have sensed, because he took a slightly more serious tone.

“I left my CD player downstairs,” he explained.

Ginny furrowed her brow; she hadn’t taken Muggle Studies. “What is—”

“A CD player? It’s a device Muggles use to listen to music. Professor Flitwick helped me charm it so I can use it in Hogwarts.” A playful smile curled his lips. “Guess which artist’s CD I was listening to!”

Ginny was still confused by the whole concept. Did it run on plugs and batteries? Furthermore, she most certainly didn’t know too many Muggle rock bands.

“Erm...The Beatles?” she weakly offered.

He nodded eagerly. “Right in one! Abbey Road, to be precise.”

She wrinkled her forehead in confusion.

“An album…oh, never mind. What were you doing downstairs, anyway?” he asked.

The situation in its entirety returned to Ginny. “I just, er—insomnia. I’ve had the most awful insomnia lately, it’s terrible. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” she lightly tapped his arm to pass by him, “I really should go to sleep.” Hastily, she added, “Goodnight!”

Poor Dean was left slightly bewildered on the stairs. He grabbed her arm. “What are you in such a rush for? You say you’re trying to sleep, but you don’t sound tired to me,” he whispered accusingly.

Her eyes narrowed. “Why are you asking me this? What business of it is yours?” she argued.

He took a breath. In the dim light, Ginny could see him run a hand through his hair. “I’m your bloody boyfriend, and you barely act like we’re dating! We haven’t kissed or even gone out on a date. What is the point of this if we’re not spending any time together?”

Ginny’s demeanor softened. He was just frustrated, in possibly more than one way. “I’m sorry, Dean. I truly am. We really haven’t spent any time together, have we? Listen,” she firmly grabbed his chin, “we’ll meet after breakfast tomorrow. Alright?”

She could feel his head nod.

“Good. I’ll see you later then. Enjoy listening to Eggy Road, or whatever.” She stood on her tiptoes, pressing her lips against his cheek. “Goodnight.”

There was certainly no argument from Dean. He grinned, said goodnight himself, and practically trotted down the stairs. Ginny sighed, shaking her head. She hadn’t realized how much she had neglected Dean, but there were more pressing matters for her at hand. Creeping into her room, she groped in the dark for her book until she found it. She then lit a candle and flipped through the pages, looking for anything that might mention the Grim.

All it mentioned was that the Grim was a large, dog-like beast that often haunted churchyards. Nothing Ginny hadn’t known herself. She looked beside her on the bed, where the dog was curled up. It must have followed her up the stairs.

Whether the dog was a Grim or some apparition of Sirius, it scared Ginny. Whatever it was couldn’t be…natural. Then again, magical powers weren’t supposed to be natural either. She decided to look in the library the next day for books on Grims, but her current plan seemed to be that if she didn’t die in twenty-four hours, it wasn’t the Grim. Ginny laid down, pulled the blankets up to her chin, and did not dream of Tom—only because she couldn’t sleep.

---

Skipping breakfast, Ginny went straight to the library, immersing herself in large volumes of books. Yet she still couldn’t find anything about spooky black dogs that foretold death. She slammed the book closed with a heavy sigh. Looking up, she met a sight worse than the Grim: Draco Malfoy. He took a seat across from her.

“What are you doing?” he asked, almost polite in his manner.

Ginny gave him a puzzled look. “What are you doing?”

He glanced down, playing with his Hogwarts badge. “What can I say, I was bored.” Draco picked up a book. “Creatures That Foretell Doom—this doesn’t have anything to do with Longbottom’s toad, does it?”

Ginny groaned. “What do you want, Malfoy?”

“I was just curious. Really, you should be more grateful of my presence—normally I wouldn’t be caught dead with a Weasley. Answer my question, already...what are you doing?”

She pursed her lips. “I’m investigating something.” Standing up, Ginny started putting the books back on the shelves.

“You—you’re investigating something then, huh?” Something glinted in his eyes as he stood with her. “Can I help?”

“What?” Ginny dropped the books and turned around, her hands on her hips.

He shrugged, putting his fists in his pockets. “I just...wanted to see what an investigation was like, that’s all.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’d think you would have gotten that with all of the dirty politics your father has been involved in.”

Narrowing his eyes, he spat, “Watch your mouth, Weasley.”

This time, she shrugged. “You’re not helping me with this. But, for whatever reason in your psychotic little mind, you wanted to help me with something…you could aid in the Longbottom case.” Ginny thought she sounded rather professional, so she lifted her chin.

Draco snorted. “The Longbottom case? Who are you, Sherlock Holmes?”

She looked confused. He added hastily, “Muggles wrote books about this detective guy. I used to read them.”

Ginny smirked. “You had Muggle books at your house?”

“Only so we could burn them later,” he replied defensively.

She shook her head in disbelief. “Your lot is nutters, you know that?” She gave him a small, almost playful grin.

That was the precise moment Dean walked in the library. He strode over to where they were standing, and the smiles disappeared off their faces. Draco realized he was being friendly with a Mudblood-lover and Ginny realized she had completely forgotten her date.

“Ginny, what are you doing? What about our meeting?” he asked, hurt evident in his voice.

She looked down at her shoes. “I’m so sorry, Dean. I completely forgot, I’ve had a lot to deal with—”

“Oh, really? And why are you spending our date with Malfoy?” he furiously spat.

Draco seemed to be talking to himself. “I shouldn’t have—stupid. Shouldn’t have consulted with a Weasley to help, anyway.” In a daze that would have made Luna Lovegood proud, he stalked away like a wounded cat.

“It was a mistake, Dean!” she cried.

“Damn right, it was a mistake!” he shouted back.

“This is a library! Does no one remember that people are supposed to be quiet in libraries?” Madam Pince appeared with a sour look on her face.

“I’m sorry, Madam,” they both murmured.

“You are fifth and sixth years—I expect you all to be more mature than this. Can’t you settle this elsewhere?”

They nodded.

“Good. Now, shoo! There are people trying to study!” she said sternly. Ginny looked around. Only one other person was in the library, Hannah Abbot, reading a book on magical amphibians.

Ginny and Dean went their separate ways without a word. She was still furious when she entered Charms. She slammed her satchel beside her and sat down in a huff. Luna was already there in the seat beside her, tracing the lines in her palm with her finger.

“I’ve always thought palm lines didn’t tell the future, but rather were a map of the universe.” Ginny looked at her. “What’s wrong?”

She sighed, resting her head on her hand. “Relationship problems.”

“Who are you—oh right, Dean. Well, I’m sorry. Perhaps,” she took Ginny’s hand and traced her life line, “you weren’t meant to be.”

Ginny shrugged. “I mean, I wasn’t really taking it seriously.” She looked around distractedly, looking for the professor. She couldn’t see him—he wasn’t that short, was he? “Where is Flitwick?”

Luna raised her eyebrows. “I don’t know.”

Ginny twirled her quill through her fingers anxiously. “Dean is acting like such a girl, isn’t—”

“Ginny,” Luna sighed, “perhaps you should be more considerate.” Ginny took a close scrutiny of her friend. Luna’s hair was messier than usual and her under-eye circles looked like pillows. Her butterbeer cap necklace was on backwards, and Ginny didn’t think it was on purpose.

“Have you been sleeping well?” Ginny asked.

“No, I—”

Professor Flitwick scurried into the room with a student in tow. The student happened to be Neville, who gave a quick wave to Luna and Ginny. They sat, open-mouthed.

He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry I’m late, I had to help out a student,” he winked at Neville, “with a small problem. Now, have any of you practiced your Summoning Charms? It’s about time to prepare for your OWLS!” He handed Neville a slip of paper. “Oh, I almost forgot to give this back!” he squeaked.

Ginny craned her neck. It was one of the ransom notes he’d been getting. Ginny mouthed to him, What are you doing? Neville shook his head.

Luna elbowed her and whispered, “The OWLS! I’ve completely forgotten about those! Luckily, my father completely aced his, and he promised to help me.” Luna looked suddenly brighter at the mention of her father and Ginny couldn’t help but look slightly baffled. “What’s with the look?” Luna asked. “How else do you think he got to be an editor of a major newspaper?”

While Professor Flitwick was explaining the importance of high marks on the OWLS, another pupil walked into the room. The usually cheerful professor was now looking slightly impatient. “What is it, Miss Abbot?” he asked gently.

She looked down at her feet, clearly embarrassed. “I—erm—I think I left my library book in here.” She dashed over to where an unassuming Colin Creevey was sitting, and snatched the book right under his feet. “I’ll suppose I will leave now, thanks.” Hannah practically sped out the door.

Luna tapped Ginny’s elbow. “Did you see the book she had?” she asked.

Ginny shook her head. “What was it?”

“Magical Amphibians.” They looked at each other.

“Oh,” Ginny whispered softly.

Without words, the two of them silently devised a plan—they would corner Hannah after dinner, in a rather intimidating manner, and demand to know where Trevor was.

How could a Hufflepuff be capable of such a thing?, Ginny thought.

---

“Why haven’t you been sleeping well?” Ginny asked Luna as they waited outside the Great Hall. Luna suddenly looked wary.

“The dreams. Of,” she briefly struggled for words, “Tom Riddle, you, and my mum,” she said quietly.

Even though she knew it wasn’t her fault, Ginny felt guilt swim into her. “I’m sorry.”

Luna lifted an eyebrow and gazed at her. “It’s not you, Ginny. You’re not the one causing this.” She paused. “I think Mum is trying to tell me something.”

“Really?” Ginny replied. She was preoccupied by the sight of the dog, lurking behind her friend’s legs.

Abruptly, Luna’s demeanor changed—she was cold, focused. “Don’t worry, it won’t hurt you,” she said in a calming, yet sinister voice. The dog’s ears seemed to perk up.

Puzzled, Ginny said excitedly, “Do you see the dog, too?”

“What? What dog?” Luna seemed back to herself. “My mother isn’t a dog, as far as I know.” Luna lifted her necklace, twisting it to where it wasn’t backwards. “She helped me make this, you know.” Ginny gave her a half-smile, not knowing what to say.

“It’s very...unique,” she offered, her voice kindly.

Luna nodded. “I rather think so.”

At that moment, Hannah Abbot emerged from the room. Ginny and Luna flanked her like bodyguards. Ginny started questioning her first.

“Why have you been threatening Neville?”

Hannah stopped, giving them a perplexed look. “What?”

Luna pursed her lips, adding in a shrill voice. “You know what we’re talking about. What have you done with Trevor?”

Her eyes were wide and frightened. “I—I haven’t done anything with Trevor. So...his toad IS missing, right?” There was an almost eager look in her features.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “I don’t get it. This is all over that stupid Herbology thing, I mean...why can’t you just let Neville be?”

This time, Hannah was shaking her head. “I swear, I didn’t steal his toad. I don’t even qualify for the contest—I’m a Prefect, remember?” She held up her badge, whose large ‘P’ shined obnoxiously in the light.

Looking at it, Ginny wanted to hurt herself for being an idiot for the second time. She muttered, “I’m sorry, Hannah, this has all been just a horrible mistake, I’m just worried about Neville—”

“And Trevor, of course,” Luna added.

Hannah nodded, smiling brightly. “I’d never hurt Neville like that.” She looked down, a blush staining her cheeks. Suddenly, Ginny began to realize...

“You mean...you like—”

She gave Ginny and Luna a small grin. “Erm…possibly. I mean, he always has that toad, and I figured I could, y’know, strike up a conversation about it.” All of a sudden, her face paled. “I really hope he gets Trevor back.”

Luna nodded sadly, twirling one of her radish earrings around her finger. She sighed, saying, “So do I. Maybe the third time is the charm?”

---

The dog walked beside Ginny on her way back to the dormitory. Its steps matched hers, and she tried very hard not to pay attention to that, or the fact that the dog kept its gloomy grey eyes on her the entire time. Now that she thought about it, her twenty-four hours were nearly over.

“Are you a good dog, or a bad dog?” Ginny asked, knowing it wouldn’t answer. When she heard a noise behind her, she couldn’t help but jump a bit.

“What, are we talking to thin air now? Has your friend Loony Lovegood been that bad of an influence on you?” Draco Malfoy asked, a sneer evident in his voice.

Hastily, she turned around. “Are you trying to kill me?” she cried, her hands itching to strangle him.

He gave her a bemused look. “What? I don’t like you, but I’m not going to kill you here...”

“Don’t talk to me about that! I mean, all day, I’ve nearly seen the Grim, and right at the twenty-four hour mark, you pop out of the shadows and scare me like that—” She knew that her voice had reached a very high pitch, and that she sounded quite hysterical, but in her mind, he deserved it.

“Nearly seen the Grim? How do you nearly see a Grim? It seems pretty cut-and-run to me,” he spat back, giving her a glare.

Ginny closed her eyes tightly and gritted her teeth. “Just SHUT UP, Malfoy!”

He was silent.

Screaming at him calmed her down, strangely. In a completely polite voice, she asked, “So why are you following me?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Don’t be flattered, Weasley. I was just seeing how your investigation was going.” He tried to say it conversationally, but it sounded more like a death threat.

Ginny lifted a hand to her forehead. “Awful. I’m the worst detective in the history of wizards.” She sighed. “I keep going after the wrong people.” By then, they had stopped, and the dog was sniffing Draco’s shoes.

Draco wrinkled his dog. “What is this dog doing here?” He tried to shoo it away, but he discovered just as Ginny had the morning before that it wasn’t exactly solid.

Ginny looked quickly back and forth from the dog to Draco. “You mean...you can see it?”

“Yes, of course I can see it. It’s just a ghost dog, I guess,” he said indifferently. His eyes widened then crinkled in mirth. “You thought...you thought this was the Grim, didn’t you?”

She didn’t care that he was making fun of her—in fact, she nearly felt like hugging him. It couldn’t be the Grim if Malfoy could see it too!

“And, ugh—” He tried to shake off the dog once more. Draco was obviously not an animal person. “As for your little investigation,” he said the word as if it were unsavory, “you should try looking in your own house. That Granger-wannabe, Marlee or whatever—while we were in the library, she was surrounded by plant books. And this has been a Malfoy family motto for years, Weasley, and you’d do well to listen to it,” he whispered dramatically, “always suspect the quiet ones.”

Ginny certainly wasn’t going to hug him, but she gave a bewildered Draco a very strong handshake. She practically ran back to her common room, ready to stop a toad kidnapper in her tracks.