A/N: This is set in Harry, Ron, and Hermione's 7th year, and Ginny's 6th.
"It's almost r-ready, s-s-sir," Wormtail said shakily, and slouched over the cauldron where he was brewing the potion. Located in an abandoned house somewhere in the forest, Voldemort beckoned Wormtail forth, handing him a jagged knife, "You know what to do."
"Y-y-yes, I u-understand, m-m-master." Wormtail hesitated and looked up, but as he saw those eyes glow, he knew that he had to do this. He winced regretfully, slicing the Dark Lord's name into his chest and let the blood drip malevolently into the potion, making it scream and sizzle.
"Very well, Wormtail, you have done your part. Now I shall summon the rest of my Death Eaters."
"Y-yes m-m-master, I will continue to tend to the potion."
Voldemort then seized Wormtail's arm and pressed the Dark Mark, now glowing a malicious black.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Owwww!" Harry Potter woke up with a start, clutching his forehead. He sat up on his poor excuse for a bed, trying to recollect what had happened in this dream. Vaguely, he remembered Wormtail and Voldemort...and a potion! Some potion was brewing behind them. But what could it be? Harry strained to make sense of the mumbo-jumbo going on in his head, but he knew that it was hopeless. "I'll never figure it out! But now that I'm awake.what should I do?" His mind wandered for a bit, before landing on his.
"Homework! Oh no.how could I forget? Well, might as well get it started," Harry mused. He didn't know where he should start, so he laid out his books, closed his eyes, and jabbed a book with his wand.
"Ah, Transfiguration. Just what I needed to get my mind off of this dream," he thought sarcastically. "At least it'll keep me busy."
Harry paged through his book, looking for the assignment. "Portkeys, portkeys, portkeys.come on, I know I saw them in here somewhere," he mumbled to himself. "Here! To make a portkey, the only materials you will need are the object to be the portkey and your wand," Harry read. "Hold the object in your hand, make sure that it isn't making contact with anything else, and say the incantation, with your destination in mind: huius quedam desero. After you put it down for the first time, the next time you touch the item it will activate. For Programmable Portkeys, see page 471."
"Sounds easy enough, I could probably do that now. Let's see, the assignment from McGonagall says to end up somewhere in our own house.then we have to write a foot long scroll about it?!? Isn't it enough that we actually have to make an actual portkey?" During the summer in-between sixth and seventh years, the students had holiday homework that involved actually using their wand, as to prepare them for their upcoming N.E.W.T.s Sighing, Harry looked around his room to see what he could transfigure into a portkey. He decided on Hedwig's water bowl from her cage, as he knew that she was out delivering a letter, and she wouldn't mind that her bowl would be gone for a few minutes.
"Okay, now it says to say the incatation and know the destination, so that should be easy. McGonagall said to end up somewhere in your house.I'll just try to end up outside. Here goes nothing, huius quedam desero!"
A flash of purple light and sparks emitted from Harry's wand, and engulfed the bowl. He carefully set it down on his nightstand, and touched it again. The familiar jerking started, so he closed his eyes. After a few seconds, he bumped to the floor with a thud, and heard a shrill shriek. Startled, Harry opened his eyes, only to see in front of him.
Ginny Weasley.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Good night, Mum. Good night, Dad." Ginny ran to her room, shut the door and locked it. She made some random shuffling noises, and blankly opened and closed dresser drawers. She flicked her light switch to off, and headed towards her closet. She opened the door and pulled the cord to turn on the light, illuminating the clothes in her closet. Ginny closed her eyes. She pictured a huge addition to her closet. Hundreds of pictures were posted on the wall, and at the farthest corners of the room, were two emerald pillar candles. Following those, there were newspaper and magazine articles pinned on the little space left on the walls, and two fluffy, emerald pillows with gold tassels, strategically placed in the center of the floor.
When Ginny opened her eyes, she was staring at her mental image. There was no longer a wall behind her clothes, but her shrine dedicated to Harry.
"The sight of this takes my breath away no matter how many time's I've seen it before...exactly the same thing Harry does to me."
Ginny took out her wand and lit the tall pillar candles and the hundreds of smaller candles placed throughout the room, and then reached up and pulled the cord to turn off the lightbulb. She then bewitched her closet to comfort her with the soothing sounds of a crackling fire, then continued on her way to a huge collage of Harry's pictures. She picked out a rather large picture, and started to stroke his face.
"I guess this is the closest I'll ever be to making this kind of contact with you, Harry. Because, in your eyes I'll forever remain Ron's shy, little sister...his bloody little sister, and nothing more. A nuisance, perhaps... just a little gnat that happens to reside in the same household as your redheaded best friend. You probably don't even consider me a girl, Harry, just a facade of one."
Ginny stopped stroking the picture's face, forlorn now, and sad at the constant thought of this. She sat down on one of the pillows and started to cry... the only true time she could let it all out. Seven years is a long time to hold someone true in you heart, a long time of loving someone, and in Ginny's case, a long time of suffering. There was only a tiny flicker of hope left in her, the same flicker that caused her from total insanity.
She began to meditate, clear her mind of all her sadness and frustration. She sunk into a deep state of nothingness, only concentrating on the sound of the flames.
::That's what I am to him, nothing. I'm nothing, a nobody. I'm a has been, or a never will be if you want to consider this state of affairs personally. He probably doesn't even know my name.::
Ginny stopped meditating, she wasn't going to get anywhere with this, she was too intertwined with her thoughts and her emotions right now, too scared to heal.
She had only snuffed out two candles when a figure appeared right in her. She let out a shrill shriek, frightening herself along with the intruder. She was standing face to face with none other than the famous...
Harry Potter.
"It's almost r-ready, s-s-sir," Wormtail said shakily, and slouched over the cauldron where he was brewing the potion. Located in an abandoned house somewhere in the forest, Voldemort beckoned Wormtail forth, handing him a jagged knife, "You know what to do."
"Y-y-yes, I u-understand, m-m-master." Wormtail hesitated and looked up, but as he saw those eyes glow, he knew that he had to do this. He winced regretfully, slicing the Dark Lord's name into his chest and let the blood drip malevolently into the potion, making it scream and sizzle.
"Very well, Wormtail, you have done your part. Now I shall summon the rest of my Death Eaters."
"Y-yes m-m-master, I will continue to tend to the potion."
Voldemort then seized Wormtail's arm and pressed the Dark Mark, now glowing a malicious black.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Owwww!" Harry Potter woke up with a start, clutching his forehead. He sat up on his poor excuse for a bed, trying to recollect what had happened in this dream. Vaguely, he remembered Wormtail and Voldemort...and a potion! Some potion was brewing behind them. But what could it be? Harry strained to make sense of the mumbo-jumbo going on in his head, but he knew that it was hopeless. "I'll never figure it out! But now that I'm awake.what should I do?" His mind wandered for a bit, before landing on his.
"Homework! Oh no.how could I forget? Well, might as well get it started," Harry mused. He didn't know where he should start, so he laid out his books, closed his eyes, and jabbed a book with his wand.
"Ah, Transfiguration. Just what I needed to get my mind off of this dream," he thought sarcastically. "At least it'll keep me busy."
Harry paged through his book, looking for the assignment. "Portkeys, portkeys, portkeys.come on, I know I saw them in here somewhere," he mumbled to himself. "Here! To make a portkey, the only materials you will need are the object to be the portkey and your wand," Harry read. "Hold the object in your hand, make sure that it isn't making contact with anything else, and say the incantation, with your destination in mind: huius quedam desero. After you put it down for the first time, the next time you touch the item it will activate. For Programmable Portkeys, see page 471."
"Sounds easy enough, I could probably do that now. Let's see, the assignment from McGonagall says to end up somewhere in our own house.then we have to write a foot long scroll about it?!? Isn't it enough that we actually have to make an actual portkey?" During the summer in-between sixth and seventh years, the students had holiday homework that involved actually using their wand, as to prepare them for their upcoming N.E.W.T.s Sighing, Harry looked around his room to see what he could transfigure into a portkey. He decided on Hedwig's water bowl from her cage, as he knew that she was out delivering a letter, and she wouldn't mind that her bowl would be gone for a few minutes.
"Okay, now it says to say the incatation and know the destination, so that should be easy. McGonagall said to end up somewhere in your house.I'll just try to end up outside. Here goes nothing, huius quedam desero!"
A flash of purple light and sparks emitted from Harry's wand, and engulfed the bowl. He carefully set it down on his nightstand, and touched it again. The familiar jerking started, so he closed his eyes. After a few seconds, he bumped to the floor with a thud, and heard a shrill shriek. Startled, Harry opened his eyes, only to see in front of him.
Ginny Weasley.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Good night, Mum. Good night, Dad." Ginny ran to her room, shut the door and locked it. She made some random shuffling noises, and blankly opened and closed dresser drawers. She flicked her light switch to off, and headed towards her closet. She opened the door and pulled the cord to turn on the light, illuminating the clothes in her closet. Ginny closed her eyes. She pictured a huge addition to her closet. Hundreds of pictures were posted on the wall, and at the farthest corners of the room, were two emerald pillar candles. Following those, there were newspaper and magazine articles pinned on the little space left on the walls, and two fluffy, emerald pillows with gold tassels, strategically placed in the center of the floor.
When Ginny opened her eyes, she was staring at her mental image. There was no longer a wall behind her clothes, but her shrine dedicated to Harry.
"The sight of this takes my breath away no matter how many time's I've seen it before...exactly the same thing Harry does to me."
Ginny took out her wand and lit the tall pillar candles and the hundreds of smaller candles placed throughout the room, and then reached up and pulled the cord to turn off the lightbulb. She then bewitched her closet to comfort her with the soothing sounds of a crackling fire, then continued on her way to a huge collage of Harry's pictures. She picked out a rather large picture, and started to stroke his face.
"I guess this is the closest I'll ever be to making this kind of contact with you, Harry. Because, in your eyes I'll forever remain Ron's shy, little sister...his bloody little sister, and nothing more. A nuisance, perhaps... just a little gnat that happens to reside in the same household as your redheaded best friend. You probably don't even consider me a girl, Harry, just a facade of one."
Ginny stopped stroking the picture's face, forlorn now, and sad at the constant thought of this. She sat down on one of the pillows and started to cry... the only true time she could let it all out. Seven years is a long time to hold someone true in you heart, a long time of loving someone, and in Ginny's case, a long time of suffering. There was only a tiny flicker of hope left in her, the same flicker that caused her from total insanity.
She began to meditate, clear her mind of all her sadness and frustration. She sunk into a deep state of nothingness, only concentrating on the sound of the flames.
::That's what I am to him, nothing. I'm nothing, a nobody. I'm a has been, or a never will be if you want to consider this state of affairs personally. He probably doesn't even know my name.::
Ginny stopped meditating, she wasn't going to get anywhere with this, she was too intertwined with her thoughts and her emotions right now, too scared to heal.
She had only snuffed out two candles when a figure appeared right in her. She let out a shrill shriek, frightening herself along with the intruder. She was standing face to face with none other than the famous...
Harry Potter.