Harry Potter was dreaming, he did that alot these days. He dreamt of many things, but this was the most frequent, and most upsetting of them. In this one he was standing in an endless void, darkness as far as the eye could see. The only break in that darkness was a shock of red directly in front of him. It was a woman, her back to him, her long red hair tied back into a neat bun. Harry tried to walk forward but found he couldn't, as he did every time. He held his hand out, trying to reach out to her, but every time he did, she seemed to be further away. He called out to her;
"Ginny! Ginny!"
Her head moved slightly, as if she had heard him.
"Ginny!" He yelled again.
She was turning so that he could just see the silhouette of her delicate face, when he felt a sharp pain on his arm. He felt the familiar sensation of being pulled away from his dream world.
"No! I don't want to go!" He screamed, but it was to late, he was already back in his bed. His eyes snapped open, and he saw the source of his pain. Hedwig was perched on his arm, pecking at his skin. He had forgotten to open a window, and she wanted to go out and hunt.
"Get away from me!" he shouted, shooing her away.
She flew off, hooting in an offended sort of way. Harry tried to go back to sleep, but he was too wound up, and anyway, he rarely managed to sleep after a particularly bad dream. He kicked his covers off and quickly dressed in the first set of robes he found. He went downstairs noisily, forgetting where he was, and suddenly a bloodcurdling scream filled the hallway. He turned to the offending object, whipped off the tattered velvet curtain and faced the portrait of old Mrs Black.
"Blood traitor! Filthy half-breed! Squatter!"
"Just shut up, you horrible old woman!" he screamed equally as loudly.
"Harry Potter shouldn't speak to mistress like that, no he shouldn't..." A quiet voice said behind him.
Harry turned around,
"Kreacher," he said menacingly, "Go stick your head in the oven and don't take it out till I get back."
Kreacher ground his teeth together, "As you wish." he hissed.
Harry watched as Kreacher slunk away, mumbling just loud enough to be heard.
"Filthy Muggle-loving... One day I'll..."
Once Harry was satisfied that Kreacher had indeed put his head in the oven, he left the house. He walked out into the cold morning air, it couldn't have been more than three or four in the morning, and the streets were empty, just the way he liked it.
Ron Weasley stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom, hearing the thumps and wails of the ghoul above him. He had slept all of three hours, and now found it impossible to drift off again. He got up and put his work robes on. Since his promotion to Assistant Magical Crime Investigator at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, he had to look the part. That meant spending most of his pitiful wage on new robes every couple of months. These ones were navy blue with gold trim. He fiddled with them for a bit, adjusting them and then went down to the kitchen. He flicked his wand and a bottle started pouring milk into a bowl of cereal. He picked it up, and sat down at the table. Since it was too early for the Daily Prophet to be delivered, he just stared around the kitchen. He hated this, when he was the only one up, and the house was quiet. He hated living in this house, the memories were so strong here. He sighed, life had not turned out the way he thought it would. He quickly finished the first of his breakfast, grabbed his work things, and apparated to the Ministry. Even at this early hour, the Ministry was buzzing. Sleep-deprived workers hurried across the main hall, and got in and out of the lifts. Ron ran over one of those lifts and slipped in as the doors were closing.
"Department of Magical Law Enforcement, level two." he said, batting fluttering paper aeroplanes away from his head.
"Going down." a female voice said pleasantly.
For the first three floors Ron was completely alone in the lift, then on the fourth floor the golden grille rattled open. A young man around Ron's age stumbled in carrying a pile of papers so large that Ron couldn't actually see his face.
"Hold the lift!" he yelped, trying to balance all his papers.
"Don't worry, I am." Ron laughed, reaching over and taking some of the man's burden.
"Thanks..." the man trailed off when he caught sight of Ron.
Ron stopped smiling immediately, "Oh, it's you," he said, surveying the blond-haired, grey-eyed man.
"Malfoy. What are you doing here so early? Trying to get in the Minister's good books?"
"No, just - just working. These are for you actually."
"Are they really?" Ron said, leaning over to look at them. He put his hand on top of them, and pushed them gently.
"Oops, look what I did, that'll take a while to clear up." he said, as hundreds of documents crashed to the floor. "This is my stop." he smirked
He hopped out and started to walk away.
"Oh, and Malfoy? Remember to bring me my morning coffee, there's a good man."
Malfoy looked up from amid the papers, and smiled thinly, "Ofcourse... sir."
Unlike Harry and Ron, their former best friend Hermione Granger hadn't even been to bed that night. She was currently serving tea to some very shady people, specifically Death Eaters. Ofcourse, they didn't know she was Hermione Granger, former Gryffindor. They thought she was Suzy Smith, short, blonde, slightly ditzy tea-girl. Hermione was doing research, on a potentially explosive exposé on the secret groups of Death Eaters reforming after Voldemort's death, for Witch Weekly. She'd been on this assignment for two months, and other than finding out that Death Eaters were a creepy bunch (which she already knew) nothing interesting had happened. She wasn't allowed in when they were talking about important things, and she knew something was going on. She occasionally heard whispered about some witch who would be very important in the Death Eaters plans.
"Well, I'm going to head home." she said to another of the tea-girls, her voice sounding horribly high-pitched to her own ears.
"Okay, see you later, Suzy."
Hermione quickly exited the unplottable headquarters. After a full six hours there, she was relieved to be able to go. It made her feel dirty just being there. Once a suitable distance from the building, she apparated home, a small one bed flat in London. She went straight over to her floor length mirror and watched as her hair started to turn curly and brown. Once she was fully Hermione again, she breathed a sigh of relief. She pulled off her black robes, and changed into some purple ones. She sat down at her desk and pulled out her book of notes, and set about writing her findings. Half an hour in, Crookshanks came in and curled up on her lap, happy to have his mistress home.
Harry walked down yet another street, his hands firmly in his pockets, his head down. The area was starting to fill up, and he was heading back home when he saw someone familiar out of the corner of his eye. He glanced up and saw a woman with red hair. His stomach did a somersault.
"Ginny!" he yelled, but she ignored him and hurried on down the street.
He gave chase, plunging through the crowds of early morning shoppers. He called again.
"Ginny!"
After that he lost sight of her, and wandered around searching for her. He was just starting to believe that he had imagined it, that he simply hadn't had enough sleep, when he saw her again. This time he didn't call, but quickly and quietly followed her. She walked in a nervous manner, looking up at any noise. Harry knew that if this woman wasn't Ginny, and if he was just stalking some random woman, that he would be scaring her alot, but at this point he didn't care. She went down an alley way, with Harry was close behind. He quickly approached her as her back was turned.
"Ginny." he said softly.
She jumped, and whirled around. "What do you want?" she yelped.
Harry was lost for words, it was her, it was Ginny. Ginny, who was supposed to be long dead, was standing right in front of him.
"I-I..." he started, but she didn't give him a chance to finish. She shoved him out of the way, and took off back out into the street. By the time he had regained his balance, she was long gone, and even though he searched for the best part of three hours, he couldn't find her. Eventually he decided to go home. He had to tell someone about this, and right now he could only think of one person.
It was now 7.30am, and Hermione was just finishing her notes, when she heard tapping on her living room window.
"Hedwig!" she exclaimed, opening the window, "It's been so long since I've seen you."
Hedwig hooted a couple of times and dropped a crumpled piece of paper into her hands.
"Thank you. I've got some bread, would you like some?"
Hedwig flapped her wings, and flew into the kitchen. Once Hermione had seen to Hedwig's needs, she sat down and unfurled the letter.
Hermione,
I've seen her. I've seen Ginny! She isn't dead! I knew she couldn't be, I just knew it. We have to do something. I tried to talk to her, but she didn't want to. In shock, most probably. What do I do? Please write quickly.
Harry.
Hermione sighed. She thought this might happen one day. He'd finally snapped. Slowly, she picked up a quill and piece of parchment, and started writing her reply.
Harry,
How are you? It's been too long. Have you been going to that psychologist I gave you the name of at St. Mungo's? She really is very good. She can help you work through things. Are you really sure it was Ginny? I mean, it could have just been someone who looked similar. I'm not saying that you're lying, but the mind can play tricks on you sometimes. I'd really like to meet up with you sometime. I've missed you.
Love,
Hermione.
P.S. Maybe you should keep this to yourself for a while, atleast till we work this all out. It would upset Ron so much to hear this from someone else.
She sealed it up and gave it back to Hedwig.
"There you go, I hope he's not too upset."
Hedwig flew off out of the window, and Hermione sat down and read the Daily Prophet. It didn't take long for the reply to come.
Hermione
So, you don't believe me. I shouldn't be surprised, you never had much confidence in me. I am NOT mad. God, I thought you might believe me, it's not like I ever saved your life or anything. Fine, I'll do it on my own. Somehow, I don't think I'm going to want to meet up with you. I have better things to do with my time.
Harry
P.S. I could care less what Ron thinks.
Hermione put her head in her hands.
"Oh, Harry." she mumbled.