Chapter 5: Decisions
“Ow! You stupid freckle faced—stop!” yelled Draco. He had a huge scowl on his face, and didn’t seem to appreciate the treatment he was getting. Draco grabbed the other pillow on the twins’ bed and whacked Ginny with it. He didn’t generally hit girls, but Weasley was hardly a girl. At least, that’s what he was trying to convince himself.
Ginny’s face was crimson and her words were coming in short bursts. “You are the biggest jerk alive! Ooh, if I could do magic you would be so sorry! You just wait and see what happens to you when school starts again, Malfoy. I’m going to make you wish that that Bat Bogey in 4th year was all I could do.” Draco could see her chest rising and falling with each shuddering breath. Er, not that he was looking.
“What’s all this noise about? I am trying to read a book here. Perhaps barbarians like you cannot read, but others enjoy picking up a book now and again.” Narcissa Malfoy paused in the doorway, looking shocked and a bit disgusted as well. It was only then Ginny realized how this might look—she and Malfoy sitting practically on each other’s laps, the bed sheets and their clothes in disarray, their faces flushed…
Oh sweet Merlin.
Ron’s head appeared behind Narcissa’s, his eyes widening as he took in the scene. “Malfoy, what the HELL are you doing to my sister?”
“Oh, honestly, Weasley. As though anyone would want—”
”Finish that sentence, Malfoy. I dare you,” seethed Ginny menacingly.
Malfoy smirked. “Oh goody, I do love dares!”
“Fantastic! I dare you to…go drown yourself in the pond outside!” Ron said, still wearing a scowl.
“Sounds like a plan! A really stupid, half-assed plan, that is. But what else can one expect of Gryffindors?”
___________________________
Harry’s first instinct was to punch the nearest cloaked figure and run like hell. And, being a Gryffindor, he followed it. It had earned him a vicious kick to the face from said cloaked figure, but hey, at least he’d tried. Harry groaned and curled up in a little ball, cupping his bloody nose. “Get up,” one of the Death Eaters growled.
Harry didn’t see what else he could do but obey. He had left his wand with Hetty, and there was no way a teenage boy could take on thirteen grown wizards. Harry wiped the blood on the sleeve of his oversized navy sweatshirt, and stood, trying to keep his legs steady. They felt like rubber. He received a couple of sharp pokes in the back to get him going. Going where? He hadn’t realized he’d voiced this question until one of them spoke up. “That’s not your concern, Potter. Just shut up and do as you’re told,” the voice snarled. It sounded familiar; McNair?
Great, Harry thought with a touch of bitter humor. You know something’s wrong when you can recognize a Death Eater by his voice. I really have to get myself some new friends.
Harry started sniggering then, thinking about playing Quidditch with these guys. He could just imagine Lucius Malfoy as a Keeper, trying to Avada Kedavra the Quaffle because it came too near. And McNair as a Beater, explaining to Madame Hooch that he just couldn’t leave his ax behind, it had sentimental value! Harry didn’t notice the cloaked figures around him come to a halt, a few of them exchanging fearful glances as they wondered about the sanity of the Boy-Who-Lived. One of the Death Eaters shoved Harry into a tree, grunting, “Shut up you, or you might just end up dead on the floor with nothing to laugh about.”
Harry, still sniggering, quipped, “I don't mind dying…the trouble is you feel so bloody stiff the next day.” He didn’t know what had come over him. His own kidnapping, combined with the enormity of Hetty’s revelations, seemed too much to bear. A sense of unreality was washing over him, and Harry coped with it the only way he knew how, short of violence—humor. Perhaps it had been all that time with the mild-mannered, rather barmy Dumbledore. Dumbledore, Harry thought, immediately becoming somber once more. He became aware of quiet mutterings around him, stumbling as the unusual party neared the cover of a small grove.
“Oh, screw this!” someone snarled, grabbing Harry roughly and holding up his wand. “There’s no way I’m sharing a broomstick with this nutter. Why don’t we just Apparate? At the rate we’re going, it’ll be dawn by the time we get to the checkout point!”
Harry peered at the man’s face, but the mask and hood effectively concealed his identity. These guys really need to get nametags, Harry mused. I can’t be expected to remember all of their names.
The Death Eater Harry had successfully pinned as McNair shoved the other man. “Shut up, Carrow,” he hissed, the eyes behind his mask glinting dangerously. “Orders are orders. You’re going to get us all killed with that attitude. The Dark Lord does not like those who shirk their duties. And those he does not like are the first to know, if you catch my drift.”
Another Death Eater approached the two. “It is not wise to remain standing here out in the open while trying to maintain secrecy. I propose a truce. We Apparate to the checkout point and ride our broomsticks the rest of the way,” he said, his voice smooth and cajoling. Harry didn’t recognize him.
“Fine,” sniffed Carrow, “but I’m still not going to share a broomstick with him.”
“No need,” the Death Eater said without missing a beat, “I will take the boy on my own broom if no one else wishes to.”
“No,” someone said. “We don’t want him with us. Take him straight to the Dark Lord. He can be your problem now.”
The others murmured in widespread assent, turning around with a swish of their ebony cloaks and Disapparating, leaving the unctuous man and Harry alone in the grove. For a moment all Harry could hear was his own breathing and the chirp of insects as night fell. Then the man seized Harry’s arm in a bruising grip, whispering silkily, “I know your game, boy, and I won’t fall for it. It’s a cunning plan, but I don’t care whether you’re crazy or not. You’re not going to escape my clutches. My Lord wishes to see you, and I am going to do all that is in my power to ensure he gets his meeting.”
Before Harry could respond, he felt the familiar sensation of being pulled through a very tight rubber tube. He could not breathe; invisible bands of iron were constricting his chest, and his eyeballs felt like they were taking a very painful refuge inside of his skull.
Harry opened his eyes, glad that the sensation was over. Later, however, he would be wishing that it had never ended.
___________________________
Ron glared at Draco. "I'm going to mop the floor with your face, you oversized annoying ferret!"
Draco shrugged at him. "All right, but you'll be sorry."
"Oh yeah? Why?" Ron sneered.
"Well, you won't be able to get into the corners very well."
Ron stared at him, unsure whether to check his temperature or beat him into a pulp. He was saved the task of deciding as he heard someone laughing. "Ginny?"
Ginny shook her head, still laughing. There were tears in her eyes and she was doubled over in a fit of giggles. Now Ron knew for sure Malfoy had to have done something to his little sister. Why on Earth would Ginny be laughing at Draco Malfoy’s jokes?
Draco seemed delighted at Ginny's reaction, though determined to hide it. He turned to the slim blonde woman still in the doorway. "Mother! I'm tired. This bed is lumpy. This house is a disgrace. Let's go home."
Narcissa Malfoy, too, was looking between Draco and Ginny, wondering what was going on. She let it go for now, but Draco knew he would receive the full interrogation later. “I know, Draco. I’m afraid you’ll just have to put up with these horrendously poor conditions a bit longer. They won’t allow us to leave, and we cannot go home. It’s either here or death.”
Draco crossed his arms over his thin chest, his bottom lip protruding in an adorable yet annoying pout. “But I want to go home!” he whined. Death was no obstacle, then.
Mrs. Malfoy’s lips curled into a tiny smile, looking at the picture her son made. He had grown into quite a handsome man. Just like his father, she though fondly. Reminded of his father, she soured suddenly. “Draco?”
“Yes, Mother?”
“Shut up.”
“Yes, Mother.”
Ron snorted in amusement. Draco glared at him and threw a pillow at his head.
It missed.
___________________________
Harry glared with loathing into the hideous scarlet eyes of his worst enemy. "Let me go!" he snarled, tugging at his chains to no avail. He was in a large, dark, and chilly dungeon, with Harry chained to the wall, his knees bent up as he tried to get in a comfortable position against the cold walls. Harry could barely see past the flashing silver metal of his own bonds. He tugged at his handcuffs again, yanking as hard as he could, but all that happened was the cold metal scraped off a layer of his skin, overwhelming itself in his blood.
"Harry, Harry, Harry," said Voldemort, shaking his head, a smug smile upon his repulsive features, looming over him. Harry’s discomfort seemed to make him happier, if anything. "When will you ever learn? You cannot escape me.”
“Really? I’d thought I was doing a rather good job of it these past six years.”
Voldemort’s mouth thinned, but other than that he gave no sign of having heard Harry. “I have learned much since our last encounter, and I intend to use it against you. Going to Godric's Hollow...stupid of you, really. Did you think that I would leave it unguarded after my downfall there? No, I had alarm spells placed in various areas of the village the moment I regained my body. A stupid and reckless action: one that I will make you pay for to the fullest. Soon you shall be joining your dear Headmaster in his grave,” he finished with a cruel smile.
Harry could think of nothing to say, so he decided to show his feelings in another manner. He summed up the rest of the moisture in his mouth, and with a look of intense concentration upon his face, spat it with careful aim onto the edge of Voldemort's robes.
Voldemort narrowed his crimson eyes with their catlike slits in anger. Then without even the slightest warning, he raised his wand and hissed, "Crucio!"
Harry writhed around on the floor, his chains rattling as white-hot knives of pain stabbed him over and over again. Harry bit through his bottom lip trying not to scream. As the painful convulsions intensified, he jerked too far backward and his head met the hard stone of the wall with a large crack, sending him spiraling into the deep black abyss of unconsciousness.
Voldemort took immense pleasure in Harry's pain. Smirking, he turned around to a third person in the room, beckoning him closer. "See to it that he does not escape, Jugson. This is only the first of your rewards for getting him to me quickly while the others were off dallying about. I wish for Yaxley to have the next shift, but after that you may appoint whom you wish, when you wish. I have more important matters to attend to at the moment, but I will be back, perhaps tomorrow morning. He will get what he came here for, rest assured." And with that, he swept out of the room, his robes billowing behind him.
Jugson settled down to wait until the hour was up, a bit disgruntled. What a great reward.
___________________________
When the three went down later, it was to find Mr. Weasley consoling a pale, worried looking Mrs. Weasley, and calling for Fleur to put more brandy in the tea.
"Meeting over then?" Ron asked, helping himself to some tea.
Ginny elbowed him hard in the ribs, but Draco had already heard.
"Meeting?" he asked suspiciously.
Ron choked on some of his tea, clutching his side. "Er, yeah, meeting," he gasped, then doubled over once more, feigning a coughing fit. There would be no more help out of him, Ginny realized with a mental scowl.
She dropped her voice to a stage whisper. "That's what we call it when Mum and Dad want some 'alone time' together, if you catch my drift."
Draco looked disgusted, and Ginny took that to mean he accepted her explanation. Smiling a bit with relief, she went and settled down on the couch, curling her legs underneath her. This whole 'distracting' business was very tiring.
"So what's the news of Harry, Dad?" she asked in a low voice, making sure that Draco was well out of earshot.
Arthur rubbed his hand over his face tiredly. "I don't really know, Ginny. We know where he is, but the entire place is swarming with so many Death Eaters that we'd have to be barking to go and rescue him. We just don't have enough recruits to invade Death Eater territory; especially since this is Harry Potter we're talking about. No, it's near impossible to get him out now. Half an hour of talking and we've gotten nowhere. There just isn't any way we can help him now. We'll just have to sit tight and hope for the best."
"You know where he is?"
"Yeah, we think the Isle of Skye. Fitting, I reckon. That's where the Loch Ness monster was last spotted. Seems like the kind of place a bunch of Death Eaters would lounge about." Arthur paused, and looked at Ginny suspiciously, "Why?"
"Don't I have a right to know? Harry's almost part of the family!" she said defensively. Seeing his disbelieving expression, she added quietly, "And he's even more to me than that."
Arthur's face softened, and he pulled his only daughter into a warm embrace. "You're right, I'm sorry; I shouldn't have doubted you. You're old enough to handle this kind of information responsibly. I trust you, Ginny,” he said with a reassuring smile.
She returned the smile shakily, made her excuses, and dashed upstairs to her room on the third floor. Once the door was shut, she sagged against it and closed her eyes, breathing heavily. He’ll never forgive me for what I’m about to do.
Ginny plopped down on her bed and stared at the ceiling, contemplating her quest. She needed to save Harry; that much she knew. But was it worth her father's trust? Ginny unconsciously had begun twirling her hair around her finger, a habit she had picked up from watching Fleur. Hmm, Harry’s life or a few weeks grounded? Decisions, decisions.
Still, she knew she couldn't do this by herself. She wasn't that stupid. Ginny toyed around with the idea of bringing Ron, but threw the thought away just as quickly. He would never allow her to go, and most likely he would get Hermione and they would run off together to save the day, as usual. Ginny sat up as a thought struck her. She’d come for sure, and she’s a good enough witch that I can trust her to watch my back. If there’s anyone I’d trust with my life, it’s her.
She quickly scribbled a hasty explanation on a spare piece of parchment and sent Pig off into the darkening sky. Smiling, Ginny grabbed her black schoolbag with the Hogwarts emblem stitched on its pocket and began preparing for the dangerous journey she knew awaited her.
___________________________
Author’s Note: Quick credit- I think the “don’t mind dying” bit was something George Axlerod said, but I’m not sure. I also think that there was another familiar looking bit in here, but I can’t remember what it was.
Preview for next chapter? Well, just wait and find out. :)
“Ow! You stupid freckle faced—stop!” yelled Draco. He had a huge scowl on his face, and didn’t seem to appreciate the treatment he was getting. Draco grabbed the other pillow on the twins’ bed and whacked Ginny with it. He didn’t generally hit girls, but Weasley was hardly a girl. At least, that’s what he was trying to convince himself.
Ginny’s face was crimson and her words were coming in short bursts. “You are the biggest jerk alive! Ooh, if I could do magic you would be so sorry! You just wait and see what happens to you when school starts again, Malfoy. I’m going to make you wish that that Bat Bogey in 4th year was all I could do.” Draco could see her chest rising and falling with each shuddering breath. Er, not that he was looking.
“What’s all this noise about? I am trying to read a book here. Perhaps barbarians like you cannot read, but others enjoy picking up a book now and again.” Narcissa Malfoy paused in the doorway, looking shocked and a bit disgusted as well. It was only then Ginny realized how this might look—she and Malfoy sitting practically on each other’s laps, the bed sheets and their clothes in disarray, their faces flushed…
Oh sweet Merlin.
Ron’s head appeared behind Narcissa’s, his eyes widening as he took in the scene. “Malfoy, what the HELL are you doing to my sister?”
“Oh, honestly, Weasley. As though anyone would want—”
”Finish that sentence, Malfoy. I dare you,” seethed Ginny menacingly.
Malfoy smirked. “Oh goody, I do love dares!”
“Fantastic! I dare you to…go drown yourself in the pond outside!” Ron said, still wearing a scowl.
“Sounds like a plan! A really stupid, half-assed plan, that is. But what else can one expect of Gryffindors?”
___________________________
Harry’s first instinct was to punch the nearest cloaked figure and run like hell. And, being a Gryffindor, he followed it. It had earned him a vicious kick to the face from said cloaked figure, but hey, at least he’d tried. Harry groaned and curled up in a little ball, cupping his bloody nose. “Get up,” one of the Death Eaters growled.
Harry didn’t see what else he could do but obey. He had left his wand with Hetty, and there was no way a teenage boy could take on thirteen grown wizards. Harry wiped the blood on the sleeve of his oversized navy sweatshirt, and stood, trying to keep his legs steady. They felt like rubber. He received a couple of sharp pokes in the back to get him going. Going where? He hadn’t realized he’d voiced this question until one of them spoke up. “That’s not your concern, Potter. Just shut up and do as you’re told,” the voice snarled. It sounded familiar; McNair?
Great, Harry thought with a touch of bitter humor. You know something’s wrong when you can recognize a Death Eater by his voice. I really have to get myself some new friends.
Harry started sniggering then, thinking about playing Quidditch with these guys. He could just imagine Lucius Malfoy as a Keeper, trying to Avada Kedavra the Quaffle because it came too near. And McNair as a Beater, explaining to Madame Hooch that he just couldn’t leave his ax behind, it had sentimental value! Harry didn’t notice the cloaked figures around him come to a halt, a few of them exchanging fearful glances as they wondered about the sanity of the Boy-Who-Lived. One of the Death Eaters shoved Harry into a tree, grunting, “Shut up you, or you might just end up dead on the floor with nothing to laugh about.”
Harry, still sniggering, quipped, “I don't mind dying…the trouble is you feel so bloody stiff the next day.” He didn’t know what had come over him. His own kidnapping, combined with the enormity of Hetty’s revelations, seemed too much to bear. A sense of unreality was washing over him, and Harry coped with it the only way he knew how, short of violence—humor. Perhaps it had been all that time with the mild-mannered, rather barmy Dumbledore. Dumbledore, Harry thought, immediately becoming somber once more. He became aware of quiet mutterings around him, stumbling as the unusual party neared the cover of a small grove.
“Oh, screw this!” someone snarled, grabbing Harry roughly and holding up his wand. “There’s no way I’m sharing a broomstick with this nutter. Why don’t we just Apparate? At the rate we’re going, it’ll be dawn by the time we get to the checkout point!”
Harry peered at the man’s face, but the mask and hood effectively concealed his identity. These guys really need to get nametags, Harry mused. I can’t be expected to remember all of their names.
The Death Eater Harry had successfully pinned as McNair shoved the other man. “Shut up, Carrow,” he hissed, the eyes behind his mask glinting dangerously. “Orders are orders. You’re going to get us all killed with that attitude. The Dark Lord does not like those who shirk their duties. And those he does not like are the first to know, if you catch my drift.”
Another Death Eater approached the two. “It is not wise to remain standing here out in the open while trying to maintain secrecy. I propose a truce. We Apparate to the checkout point and ride our broomsticks the rest of the way,” he said, his voice smooth and cajoling. Harry didn’t recognize him.
“Fine,” sniffed Carrow, “but I’m still not going to share a broomstick with him.”
“No need,” the Death Eater said without missing a beat, “I will take the boy on my own broom if no one else wishes to.”
“No,” someone said. “We don’t want him with us. Take him straight to the Dark Lord. He can be your problem now.”
The others murmured in widespread assent, turning around with a swish of their ebony cloaks and Disapparating, leaving the unctuous man and Harry alone in the grove. For a moment all Harry could hear was his own breathing and the chirp of insects as night fell. Then the man seized Harry’s arm in a bruising grip, whispering silkily, “I know your game, boy, and I won’t fall for it. It’s a cunning plan, but I don’t care whether you’re crazy or not. You’re not going to escape my clutches. My Lord wishes to see you, and I am going to do all that is in my power to ensure he gets his meeting.”
Before Harry could respond, he felt the familiar sensation of being pulled through a very tight rubber tube. He could not breathe; invisible bands of iron were constricting his chest, and his eyeballs felt like they were taking a very painful refuge inside of his skull.
Harry opened his eyes, glad that the sensation was over. Later, however, he would be wishing that it had never ended.
___________________________
Ron glared at Draco. "I'm going to mop the floor with your face, you oversized annoying ferret!"
Draco shrugged at him. "All right, but you'll be sorry."
"Oh yeah? Why?" Ron sneered.
"Well, you won't be able to get into the corners very well."
Ron stared at him, unsure whether to check his temperature or beat him into a pulp. He was saved the task of deciding as he heard someone laughing. "Ginny?"
Ginny shook her head, still laughing. There were tears in her eyes and she was doubled over in a fit of giggles. Now Ron knew for sure Malfoy had to have done something to his little sister. Why on Earth would Ginny be laughing at Draco Malfoy’s jokes?
Draco seemed delighted at Ginny's reaction, though determined to hide it. He turned to the slim blonde woman still in the doorway. "Mother! I'm tired. This bed is lumpy. This house is a disgrace. Let's go home."
Narcissa Malfoy, too, was looking between Draco and Ginny, wondering what was going on. She let it go for now, but Draco knew he would receive the full interrogation later. “I know, Draco. I’m afraid you’ll just have to put up with these horrendously poor conditions a bit longer. They won’t allow us to leave, and we cannot go home. It’s either here or death.”
Draco crossed his arms over his thin chest, his bottom lip protruding in an adorable yet annoying pout. “But I want to go home!” he whined. Death was no obstacle, then.
Mrs. Malfoy’s lips curled into a tiny smile, looking at the picture her son made. He had grown into quite a handsome man. Just like his father, she though fondly. Reminded of his father, she soured suddenly. “Draco?”
“Yes, Mother?”
“Shut up.”
“Yes, Mother.”
Ron snorted in amusement. Draco glared at him and threw a pillow at his head.
It missed.
___________________________
Harry glared with loathing into the hideous scarlet eyes of his worst enemy. "Let me go!" he snarled, tugging at his chains to no avail. He was in a large, dark, and chilly dungeon, with Harry chained to the wall, his knees bent up as he tried to get in a comfortable position against the cold walls. Harry could barely see past the flashing silver metal of his own bonds. He tugged at his handcuffs again, yanking as hard as he could, but all that happened was the cold metal scraped off a layer of his skin, overwhelming itself in his blood.
"Harry, Harry, Harry," said Voldemort, shaking his head, a smug smile upon his repulsive features, looming over him. Harry’s discomfort seemed to make him happier, if anything. "When will you ever learn? You cannot escape me.”
“Really? I’d thought I was doing a rather good job of it these past six years.”
Voldemort’s mouth thinned, but other than that he gave no sign of having heard Harry. “I have learned much since our last encounter, and I intend to use it against you. Going to Godric's Hollow...stupid of you, really. Did you think that I would leave it unguarded after my downfall there? No, I had alarm spells placed in various areas of the village the moment I regained my body. A stupid and reckless action: one that I will make you pay for to the fullest. Soon you shall be joining your dear Headmaster in his grave,” he finished with a cruel smile.
Harry could think of nothing to say, so he decided to show his feelings in another manner. He summed up the rest of the moisture in his mouth, and with a look of intense concentration upon his face, spat it with careful aim onto the edge of Voldemort's robes.
Voldemort narrowed his crimson eyes with their catlike slits in anger. Then without even the slightest warning, he raised his wand and hissed, "Crucio!"
Harry writhed around on the floor, his chains rattling as white-hot knives of pain stabbed him over and over again. Harry bit through his bottom lip trying not to scream. As the painful convulsions intensified, he jerked too far backward and his head met the hard stone of the wall with a large crack, sending him spiraling into the deep black abyss of unconsciousness.
Voldemort took immense pleasure in Harry's pain. Smirking, he turned around to a third person in the room, beckoning him closer. "See to it that he does not escape, Jugson. This is only the first of your rewards for getting him to me quickly while the others were off dallying about. I wish for Yaxley to have the next shift, but after that you may appoint whom you wish, when you wish. I have more important matters to attend to at the moment, but I will be back, perhaps tomorrow morning. He will get what he came here for, rest assured." And with that, he swept out of the room, his robes billowing behind him.
Jugson settled down to wait until the hour was up, a bit disgruntled. What a great reward.
___________________________
When the three went down later, it was to find Mr. Weasley consoling a pale, worried looking Mrs. Weasley, and calling for Fleur to put more brandy in the tea.
"Meeting over then?" Ron asked, helping himself to some tea.
Ginny elbowed him hard in the ribs, but Draco had already heard.
"Meeting?" he asked suspiciously.
Ron choked on some of his tea, clutching his side. "Er, yeah, meeting," he gasped, then doubled over once more, feigning a coughing fit. There would be no more help out of him, Ginny realized with a mental scowl.
She dropped her voice to a stage whisper. "That's what we call it when Mum and Dad want some 'alone time' together, if you catch my drift."
Draco looked disgusted, and Ginny took that to mean he accepted her explanation. Smiling a bit with relief, she went and settled down on the couch, curling her legs underneath her. This whole 'distracting' business was very tiring.
"So what's the news of Harry, Dad?" she asked in a low voice, making sure that Draco was well out of earshot.
Arthur rubbed his hand over his face tiredly. "I don't really know, Ginny. We know where he is, but the entire place is swarming with so many Death Eaters that we'd have to be barking to go and rescue him. We just don't have enough recruits to invade Death Eater territory; especially since this is Harry Potter we're talking about. No, it's near impossible to get him out now. Half an hour of talking and we've gotten nowhere. There just isn't any way we can help him now. We'll just have to sit tight and hope for the best."
"You know where he is?"
"Yeah, we think the Isle of Skye. Fitting, I reckon. That's where the Loch Ness monster was last spotted. Seems like the kind of place a bunch of Death Eaters would lounge about." Arthur paused, and looked at Ginny suspiciously, "Why?"
"Don't I have a right to know? Harry's almost part of the family!" she said defensively. Seeing his disbelieving expression, she added quietly, "And he's even more to me than that."
Arthur's face softened, and he pulled his only daughter into a warm embrace. "You're right, I'm sorry; I shouldn't have doubted you. You're old enough to handle this kind of information responsibly. I trust you, Ginny,” he said with a reassuring smile.
She returned the smile shakily, made her excuses, and dashed upstairs to her room on the third floor. Once the door was shut, she sagged against it and closed her eyes, breathing heavily. He’ll never forgive me for what I’m about to do.
Ginny plopped down on her bed and stared at the ceiling, contemplating her quest. She needed to save Harry; that much she knew. But was it worth her father's trust? Ginny unconsciously had begun twirling her hair around her finger, a habit she had picked up from watching Fleur. Hmm, Harry’s life or a few weeks grounded? Decisions, decisions.
Still, she knew she couldn't do this by herself. She wasn't that stupid. Ginny toyed around with the idea of bringing Ron, but threw the thought away just as quickly. He would never allow her to go, and most likely he would get Hermione and they would run off together to save the day, as usual. Ginny sat up as a thought struck her. She’d come for sure, and she’s a good enough witch that I can trust her to watch my back. If there’s anyone I’d trust with my life, it’s her.
She quickly scribbled a hasty explanation on a spare piece of parchment and sent Pig off into the darkening sky. Smiling, Ginny grabbed her black schoolbag with the Hogwarts emblem stitched on its pocket and began preparing for the dangerous journey she knew awaited her.
___________________________
Author’s Note: Quick credit- I think the “don’t mind dying” bit was something George Axlerod said, but I’m not sure. I also think that there was another familiar looking bit in here, but I can’t remember what it was.
Preview for next chapter? Well, just wait and find out. :)
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