Two weeks after the funeral, on a Wednesday, Harry, Hermione, and Ron left. It wasn’t until lunch that anyone noticed they were gone, at which point pandemonium erupted.
“Why would they have left without telling anyone?” Tonks demanded indignantly. “They know that’s defying regulations.”
“Where they went is the more pressing question at the moment,” Arthur growled.
“Quite noble of them if you ask me,” Fred said brightly, to which George replied, “Yes, it must be quite a covert operation if Ron left his stash of sweets behind.”
“Oh dear,” Molly fretted in a tearful voice, “I do hope nothing has happened…”
“They’ll be back soon, I’m sure… probably headed into Hogsmeade for a Butterbeer,” said Bill with a wave of his hand.
“I was afraid they might do something like this,” McGonagall sighed.
“Ginny, are you sure you didn’t overhear anything that Harry and Ron might have said? Or see them leave?” Lupin questioned wearily.
Ginny quickly donned a worried expression and pretended to contemplate the question before answering thoughtfully, “No, I really can’t remember anything.”
This, of course, was an outright lie—and a shameless one at that. The corners of her mouth twitched ever so slightly, and she hurriedly stuffed the last bit of ham in her mouth to cover her blunder. Luckily, only George had noticed, and his response was to give her a subtle wink, to which Ginny had to feign a coughing spell to keep from snickering.
Her mind inevitably flew back to the night before, when Ron and Harry had entered her dormitory with serious expressions and Hermione had closed the door behind them.
“Ginny, we have to talk to you,” Ron had said, and she had immediately known it would be an unpleasant conversation. He started his case off by saying that they had to leave and that she couldn’t come. It had been downhill from there. Amid her protesting, begging—not begging, imploring—and huffing, the trio managed to explain that Voldemort had sectioned off his soul and secured it in six objects, two of which had been destroyed already, called Horcruxes, and that they were obligated to track down the other four if Voldemort was ever to be defeated. They finished and all stared at her hopefully.
Ginny sat back on the bed and crossed her arms, looking back at the trio dubiously. “You can’t possibly expect me to believe that load of rubbish,” she snorted.
“Ginny!” Hermione said exasperatedly.
It took a dictionary definition of Horcrux from Hermione as well as Harry’s retelling of his adventure in the cave with Dumbledore before Ginny began to believe them. “Fine then, it’s plausible. But why tell me at all if I you won’t let me go?”
The trio looked at each other. It was Harry who finally spoke. “We don’t expect this first trip to be particularly dangerous,” he said slowly, “but there’s always the chance that we could run into trouble. If something were to happen to us, someone else has to know about the Horcruxes. You seemed like the one who would give us the least resistance. Besides,” he added, “you know your mum would give us hell when we got back if we had taken you with us.”
“Maybe next time,” Hermione said.
“It’s not that we don’t want you to go, Gin,” Ron said reassuringly, “just for this first time it will be better if you stay here, cover for us maybe. At the very least you can reason with mum so she doesn’t think we’ve been abducted or something.”
“Cover for you?” Ginny snorted. “Why sure, I’ll just bewitch some Inferi to sleep until noon and belch at meals. Just what do you plan on telling mum when you get back, anyway?”
Ron looked queasy. “We’ll, erm, deal with that when we have to.”
“It’s better to go without saying anything first,” Harry reasoned, “they would never let us out of the castle if they knew ahead of time. And after we leave and come back alright, they’ll realize that we’re nearly of age and can’t be stopped. Then the next time we disappear they won’t be so upset.”
Ginny was doubtful, but she kept quiet. “Why can’t you just tell the Order about the Horcruxes? It would give them something specific to concentrate on.”
“Dumbledore didn’t want them to know,” Harry said, “at least not for a while. So it must be better this way. Besides, Voldemort has no idea that we know about them, and the first wind he gets of it he’ll gather them up and we’ll have lost our chance. The fewer people that know, the better.”
“We might have to tell them in the end, if we get stuck,” said Hermione, “but for now we have to try it this way. It has to be as quiet as possible. And it’s what Dumbledore wanted.”
And so Ginny had reluctantly agreed to keep quiet. They were right, of course, it was better if she didn’t go—and so with that option extinguished, she was heartily grateful to be in on it at all. She carried much of the twins’ mischievousness in her veins, and the thought of knowing something important that few others did gave her a tiny thrill.
“Ginny, dear, would you like to take a plate up to the Malfoy boy?” Molly asked her, arranging bits of pork, potatoes, and bright green jello on a platter.
“No,” she answered bluntly, mouth full of half-chewed Treacle Tart. “Can’t the House Elves do it?”
“Well, yes,” Molly sighed, “I just thought it might help if he had some company… perhaps he just needs… but, nevermind then.”
Ginny felt the tiniest twinge of guilt—after all, the boy was pitiable. It was obvious upon looking at him that the boy neither slept nor ate well; his gaunt frame and dark-circled eyes told her as much. Since the night of the attack on Hogwarts he had holed up in his dormitory, speaking only when absolutely necessary—and despite the grace shown to him by everyone in the castle, he continued to be malicious when addressed. He was about as pleasant as a cornered Sprite.
But he really is cornered, she thought. He had no friends left, nowhere to go, and everyone was the enemy in his eyes. She smirked sadistically despite any slight compassion she felt—it served the git right.
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It was the next day that Lupin began to teach them Legilimency and Occlumency. It was part of the arrangement, McGonagall had explained to them, that while they stay at Hogwarts they receive training.
“After all, I expect most of you will be joining the Order when you come of age,” she glanced at the Weasley twins, who were over seventeen, “or when you exhibit certain levels of maturity. It’s only fair that lessons continue… without the burden of exams and homework, of course. Defense Against the Dark Arts will be taught by Lupin, and I expect you all to attend,” she said, eyeing Draco meaningfully.
Draco thought it odd that he, a practice prisoner, was to receive training that would advance his magical abilities. But McGonagall had taken him aside and explained that they were putting a great amount of trust in him and that his wand would be seized the moment he did anything to violate that trust.
“We have no intentions of allowing you to fight in this war,” she had said, “but I see no reason why you should be deprived of your education. You’ll need it once the wizarding community is restored.”
That was, of course, before the Golden Trio had up and disappeared (though Draco was none too disappointed at that development), so the only students in the classroom were Draco, the Weasley twins, and their little sister. Lupin greeted each of them before he began.
“I’m not an expert,” Lupin admitted, “but I’ll teach you what I know.”
It was a rather ineffectual way to start out, Draco thought, confessing one’s own inadequacy, and he was sharply reminded that he was in the presence of all Gryffindors. Too bloody honest, the lot of them.
“You’ll need to pair off,” Lupin said, glancing at the four of them. In a second, the twins had linked arms jovially and were sniggering at their sister, who just rolled her eyes and folded her arms, refusing to look at either of them or at Draco.
“Right, then,” Lupin said, “you two may go first since you’re so eager.”
They stepped forward in unison, grinning idiotically.
Draco studied his cuticles as Lupin explained the basics of Legilimency and Occlumency, the premises with which he was quite familiar; he had been studying with his aunt Bellatrix for at least a year.
Several minutes passed in which Draco paid no attention to Lupin, but watched out of the corner of his eye once the twins were finally ready to make attempts. They stepped apart and each faced the other, both squinting in concentration.
“Now Fred, just clear your mind… the less you have going on up there, the harder it will be for George to read you.”
Draco sneered and mumbled, “that shouldn’t be difficult,” under his breath.
Ginny heard and shot him a glare.
“George, your part might be trickier until you’re more practiced… focus solely on your brother and try to tune in to his thoughts… maintain eye contract it you can. It’s difficult to describe, but you’ll know when you’re in. At first you may only feel a surge of emotion.”
George nodded. “Legimens!” he said, and waited.
The air hung in silence for a minute before George perked up a bit. “I think I see something…”
Ginny leaned forward and Lupin raised his eyebrows encouragingly. Draco slouched against the wall.
“I see… a cauldron… and…. and some green stuff… it’s bubbling… it looks like it might explo—”
“George, you nimwit, that’s your memory, not mine!” Fred snorted.
“Oh,” George said brightly, “yes, I suppose it is.”
Lupin sighed. “Try again.”
The twins settled into their stares again, and this time Draco could tell that they had put aside their childishness and were truly focusing. Nearly three minutes had passed, during which no one spoke, until finally George broke out of the trance with a yelp, making all of them jump.
“Merlin! Fred, that’s bloody disgusting!” George exclaimed, his nose and upper lip curled up in an expression that confirmed his revulsion. “Really, the broom closet? I can see Angelina being as predictable, but I’d have thought you’d come up with someplace a little more creative.”
Fred just rubbed his neck and grinned, cheeks tainted pink.
“Alright, alright,” Lupin interjected, giving his head a quick shake and blinking as if to clear an unwanted image. “Time to switch. Fred, this time you try to enter George’s mind.”
The process went on in much the same manner of stopping and starting, focusing then distracting. It was utterly ridiculous, Draco thought. He sighed to himself, realizing that his days would consist of just such nonsense until the bloody war was over.
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Ginny watched her brothers absentmindedly, thinking back over the last few days of lessons. It had been frustrating to say the least—she was the youngest and had received the least training previously, and she detested being the worst at anything. Being the best was not so crucial, just so long as she was never at the bottom. She had never had to excel greatly in anything to be noticed, being the only girl in a pack of boys, but she had to work to keep up with them. It was easier to shine now that the trio had gone, her only competition being her ornery brothers and an apathetic captive.
“Ginny, Draco, your turn.”
Ginny lifted her chin ever so slightly and stepped confidently to the center of the open room, tossing her elbows so that her sleeves bunched up. Malfoy pushed off the wall and faced her in front of Lupin, looking so bored that it irritated her.
“Ok, Ginny, you can try first. Zone in on Draco if you can… don’t break eye contact. It might help if you focus on a certain emotion you’d wish to extract from his memory. Now Draco, for Occlumency you need to empty your—”
“I know how to do it,” Malfoy snapped.
Lupin looked at him oddly. “Very well, then. Ginny, when you’re ready.”
Ginny locked eyes with Malfoy and let out a long breath. As displeased as she was about entering the boy’s thoughts, she was determined to do well. Since the attack on Hogwarts, she had become less concerned with trifles and more determined to strengthen her skills. Anything that was not crucial to the war seemed trivial, so she spent her time on learning hexes, training with the Order members… hugging her family. It was one thing to know that war was impending, it was quite another to understand that all of life had potential to be a battleground and that there would be no laws, no safe havens. The war had begun with Dumbledore’s death, and the wizarding community would hold a collective breath and clutch their loved ones until it was over.
Her focus had already drifted, she realized, and she redirected her thoughts to her reluctant partner, who was standing tall yet slouching at the shoulders, arms crossed in front of him.
“Legilimens!” she shouted.
She stared intently at his cold, grey eyes, her head throbbing as she reached out with her mind to find his. She pictured the room around her fading into darkness and let her gaze travel over his face—his trunk-like neck and bulging Adam’s apple… his sharp jaw… his sallow cheekbones and his bony nose… his colorless, scraggly hair falling into his damnably bored, hateful eyes…
“Ginny,” Lupin sighed, “you’re letting your emotions distract you. I can tell you’re angry without even looking at you. Try again, and this time clear your mind and emotions first… when you look at him, focus on his emotions, not yours.”
Ginny gritted her teeth and slowly let her mind go blank before attempting, again, to concentrate on the detestable boy before her. She closed her eyes, then slowly opened them to revel Malfoy, actually looking attentive this time, and let her thoughts slowly drift towards him.
“Legilimens!”
She thought it a rather considerable improvement when she refrained from sending scathing emotions at him. She felt a difference immediately, like a tingling sensation down her back, and within a moment she sensed that she was inside his mind—or lingering on the edge of it.
She was unsure if her eyes were open or shut as images rushed past her in a blur and settled in a crowded corridor that she distantly recognized as Hogwarts. Students, stone walls, and buzzing sounds swirled around her. She felt fuzzy and weak, like she was hovering between sleep and waking, and the figures around her blended in and out of distortion. She was just starting to get her bearings when she realized what memory he was reliving. Her stomach flopped.
A crowd of students was gathered, Malfoy (flanked by Crabbe and Goyle) and Harry in the middle of it. A grim-looking dwarf was in the process of tackling Harry to the ground as Malfoy grinned. The dwarf, holding a pink parchment shaped like a heart, cleared his throat. Ginny slapped her hands over her ears in effort to block out what was coming next, but that did not stop the gruff song of the dwarf from echoing in her head—for it was her memory, too.
“His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,
His hair is as dark as a blackboard.
I wish he was mine, he’s really divine,
The hero who conquered the Dark Lord.”
Students cackled as red embarrassment crept into Harry’s face. Draco was laughing louder than them all, and he turned to a frail, scared-looking girl with red hair. “I don’t think Potter liked your valentine much!” he sneered.
Ginny fought desperately and pulled her mind out of the connection, which had really only lasted a few seconds, the laughter echoing around her. The room came into focus and the first thing she saw was Malfoy’s cruel sneer.
“You git!” she hissed.
“Ginny,” Lupin said warningly, stepping in between them as he watched the red-head’s face color to match her hair. “I’m sorry, that was my fault. I should have warned you. It’s easy to switch roles when practicing Legilimency… even though someone might be on the defensive, they can manipulate what memories they let people see if their powers are strong enough.” He looked sharply at Draco, “I didn’t expect your abilities to be quite so advanced.”
Draco just smirked.
“Hang on,” Fred interjected, “so once you’re in someone’s mind, they can take you to whatever memory they choose?”
Lupin nodded, “if you submit to their powers or if their skills exceed yours, then yes.”
“Brilliant!” George exclaimed, “Fred, hop in! I’ll show you that idea for the Pus-Bubble Ointment I’ve been trying to explain to you…”
“Perfect! And then I’ll show you what the Double-Loop Reverse Spin looks like from on the broom… you haven’t been catching on during practices.”
“Fine then,” George said a little testily. “As long as you don’t take me to the broom closet afterwards…”
Their animated banter continued, but Ginny didn’t notice. Her attention was on Malfoy and she was flushed with anger. Her muscles twitched in desire to hex him, to tackle him, to cause him any sort of bodily harm. She fumed silently for a few seconds, and then her breathing slowed and a wry grin spread across her face. Malfoy was regarding the twins with a look of utter repulsion, momentarily distracted and hopefully defenseless. She stared eagerly at his averted eyes and whispered “Legilimens.”
She intended to drag his thoughts to her own memory—a memory in which she received the glory and he received a nose full of bats—but a sudden pang made her forget her mission. Without warning, weariness became so burdensome that sinking to the cool stone tile of the floor seemed inviting. A dull ache burned in her throat and her stomach was unusually empty—she almost felt afraid. But of what? She pushed past the fear, and it took only a second longer to realize that the aching in her chest was loneliness—loneliness contrasted with the odd desire to flee from the room and its company.
And just as suddenly as the rush of emotions onset her, she realized that they did not originate with her.
They were coming from Draco.
He was sneering at the twins, hands in the pockets of his robes, momentarily vulnerable to her amateur Legilimency attempts. Ginny stared at him—his hard, malicious expression clashing with the throbbing medley of hurt that she was sensing. His shoulders were squared, his head cocked mockingly, jaw set and grinding. The loneliness played nowhere on his exterior, and for a minute, Ginny was unsure if it was exuding from him at all.
But just then he realized her intrusion and snapped around with a piercing glare, cutting her intrusion off so sharply that the uncomfortable feelings she had sensed left her with a rush.
For a second she was unable to look away as he sneered at her maliciously, silently daring her to say a word. The twins chattered, Lupin gathered his papers—all of them unaware of the tension radiating from the center of the room. Draco broke the gaze first, storming out of the room. And it was as she watched the backs of his robes swish in angry retreat, his glare still piercing her heart, that she wondered how she had never noticed how blue his eyes were.
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Author notes: Review please! :)
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