Chapter Four:

"Well, I do believe we have a rather unexpected situation on our hands," Albus Dumbledore stated as he considered the young witch sitting in the other room.

Alastor 'Mad Eye' Moody gave a grunt in response.  "She's got bits of Voldemort in her head, Albus, I think that's more than an unexpected situation."

"Hmm," the elder wizard noted with a nod of his head. "Yes, quite. We must determine our course of action."

"Determine?" Moody reared back as if he'd caught a whiff of something rather repugnant. "It's obvious what we have to do. That chit could know things, remember things that may well win this war. We have access to Voldemort's memories, how can we do anything but use them against the bloody bastard? She's already shown that she can use whatever's in her head. I had three layers of wards and alerts on the door to these rooms, and she slipped right in. That little girl is our best shot at being prepared for what's coming, we have to make use of that, make use of her."

"I hardly see the use of a child an easy decision to make, Alastor."

"Not an easy one, Albus, but even you have to admit it's a necessary one. The whole of the Wizarding world is at stake here. She is one in thousands, just as others have been."

Regret and resignation shone in his tired eyes as he thought of a young man whose knowledge he had utilized, whose life he had put in jeopardy so many years before; whose life he had eventually taken with his own wand. He thought of another young man he'd made use of, whose life he had cut off, who he had stashed away like a valuable trinket. Yes, such concessions were necessary in war, but they were never taken lightly, or without significant pains.

"I will handle things with Miss Weasley, Alastor. For now I need you to ready the school for the children. Things will have to be moved along a little earlier than planned. I do not know for certain how reliable these memories may be, but what I know of the magic employed to create that diary; this is too possible a result, though I had never before considered it."

The former Auror spared him a glare and a grunt as he stomped through the sitting room, lumbered past his unexpected guest, and to his door. He disengaged his wards with a stiff swipe of his wand and a harsh muttering, then closed the door behind him and repeated the process on the other side.

Ginny watched his angry movements with trepidation, turning almost fearfully to face her former Headmaster as he appeared in the doorway and gestured her back into the sitting room and the chair she had previously occupied.

"Harry, Ron and Hermione, sir? Are-"

"They'll be taken to Hogwarts and kept there until the wedding, then taken back directly after the ceremony. They'll have an escort at all times and be kept busy studying with various professors and Aurors to ready for the role Harry can not be protected from; they won't be able to run off, I assure you."

She gave a jerky nod, swallowed. "And me? What are- what will-?"

His healthy hand rested on her fluttering ones, stilling their movements and reminding her that she still had yet to put away her wand. With a sheepish hesitancy, she slipped the length of birch into her sleeve and tried to remain calm as she voiced one of her largest concerns.

"Will I be locked away too, Professor?"

He didn't bother contradicting her description of the trio's confinement. "Are you planning to go off on a mission of your own?"

She shook her head, red strands dancing in front of her face, which was turned down and nearly hidden from view.

"Then why would you need to be protected within the school?"

"Because I know, sir. I'm the only one that knows you're alive, and that makes me a threat."

The aged wizard sighed at her words, which were as telling as her deduction and infiltration had been, of the harsh logic she understood so well. He wondered how much of it she would have known without whatever remnants of Tom Riddle had remained within her. He wondered how much she knew now, and how he would make use of it to save lives. He hated himself for doing so even as that wartime logic she displayed told him that that was exactly what he would have to do.

"I have hope that tonight's revelations will help our cause more than hinder it." He knew he needed to explain more fully what he and the Order would need from her, but he found it difficult to tell yet another child that they would be his tool. The lingering mark of a far less considerate mind made it unnecessary.

"You hope to use my-his memories. Use him against himself."

"It would seem," the former Headmaster said with a unhappy smile, "that you have retained more than mere bits of Tom's memories, dear, if you understand so well the demands of war."

"It's not so much his memories, sir, as it is mine. I've gone over everything he ever wrote to me, dissected it all, and have eventually been able to see more than his words. I know now, what he'd been doing, the intentions behind his manipulation, and I've done my best to understand them, if only from his point of view."

Ginny refused to look at him as she continued, hating the truth behind her words and the weakness they revealed. "I think at first I was trying to find an excuse, some reasoning that proved he really was my friend after all, that he didn't want to hurt me, but he had to."

"Such cruelty as Tom was capable of, is hard to understand at any age, let alone eleven."

She nodded, but said nothing, just let the silence stretch and fill with the knowledge that neither one of them could say anything that would have any real effect on the old wound. After several minutes, however, the youngest Weasley broke the heavy silence.

"Most everything has been scraps, things that don’t seem to fit anywhere in particular. Even when I heard them talking about what they thought the Horcruxes where and where they thought they were hidden, I just got this feeling that it was wrong, that they were wrong."

The redhead started to gain speed with every word, talking faster and faster in an attempt to get it all out before the fear and worry that had been coursing through her had a chance to take hold. "I kind of half remember the books Hermione was talking about, remember reading them and thinking that they'd lead people away, and the word 'trap' popped into my head and I just knew that if they went where they were planning that they wouldn’t come back."

The last few words came out on a sob and she had to force herself to take a breath before she could say anything more. Dumbledore didn't press her, didn't ask her any questions, just sat and waited for her to go on.

"The only other thing that's remotely clear is the cup."

Blue eyes sharpened at her words, the elderly wizard looking as young and determined as he had at the Welcoming Feast her first year. He didn't have to prod her, though, she'd made the connection the first time she'd seen it in her head.

"I overheard Harry and the others discussing it, how you told him you thought Helga Hufflepuff's cup might be one of the Horcruxes, and I saw it. It looked like just a plain gold cup and it was sitting next to bunch of similar pieces, on a glass shelf in a long hallway, but I know it's the cup. I remember covering the badger that was carved underneath, using a spell to disguise it before putting it on the shelf with the others. I mean, I remember him doing it."

Ginny shook her head, bringing her hands up to rub at her temples. "I can't- sometimes I'm not sure whose thoughts I'm thinking, who else is in my head."

Albus knelt stiffly in front of her, and placed his good hand on her knee. "I imagine this is very confusing for you, Miss Weasley, but I assure you, there is no one else in your mind any longer. It seems the link forged between yourself and the piece of Tom that was in the diary was not entirely severed when it was destroyed. Some piece of that connection routed too deeply in your subconscious, but it is no longer active. Not even the ghost of Tom is truly connected to you now, though shadows of it remain. He cannot touch you, my dear, but by telling us what his shadows illuminate in your mind, you can help us fight him."

She nodded, forcing herself to take deep breaths, to think past how she knew, and simply focus on what she knew. "I know, and I want to help, I do."

"All right then, dear. Think, what else do you remember about the hallway?"

"I'm not sure. I remember there were a lot of wards, on the hallway and the cabinet. I remember there were a lot of other shelves around, cabinets of them, all glass, all covered with stuff, mostly made of gold and silver, and bone or ivory, maybe, but there was a lot, all nicely arranged. And I remember watching people, lots of wizards and witches walking down the hallway, looking at everything, and thinking how they were right to look at the cup like it was special, because it was special, because it was me. Him."

Dumbledore nodded at her words, sat for a moment, considering. "Lots of shelves, on display, you say? Perhaps similar to what you would find at a museum?"

She saw a flash, more hallways, just like the first one, all long and grand, and gleaming, all leading to a large room. It was made of white marble, from the floor to the ceiling, and supported by half a dozen towering pillars carved to resemble the columns of the Parthenon. There was an entrance on the far end of the room, on the other side of a counter topped with polished grey granite. Above two huge double doors there hung a sign.

"Yesterday's Everyday Wizardry."

"Pardon?"

"There was a sign, above the main entrance of the building, it said Yesterday's Everyday Wizardry."

"Hmm. I'm afraid I don't know of any establishment in London called that. But it could refer to something that was going on at the time, a fair or, if it is indeed a museum, it could be the title of an exhibition.

"So there's no way of knowing where it is?"

He shook his head and for the first time that evening, a slight sparkle gleamed from his eyes. "I have a good idea of when he procured the cup, and a good deal of the proper research can turn up a great many things."

Ginny nodded, met his gaze, and started to smile. "Mum is determined that I go to school next month since Professor McGonagall is keeping it open, and Hogwarts does have the best library."

"It does indeed, and in the meantime, I believe my personal collection will suffice." They shared a smile, though the expression held more determination than cheer. "Let's get started, shall we?"

End Chapter Four