This story is written by Katie Bell and Blaise.
Note: Chrestomanci is pronounced 'Kres-toe-man-see.'
Disclaimer: All of JK Rowling's characters belong to her. Chrestomanci and the Twelve Related Worlds belong to Diana Wynne Jones. Jenny and Andrea belong to themselves – certainly we have no control over them.
~
Sirius Black looked at the pile of essays he was marking and smiled, a bit ironically. Who'd have ever thought he'd be a teacher? Certainly, he'd never once considered it while at Hogwarts as a student … and not afterwards, either. Not until the day Dumbledore had offered him the post had it ever crossed his mind to do such a thing.
But he was quite enjoying the job, and in the not quite two months he'd been teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, he'd had very few dull moments. Dull moments were always to be avoided.
Of course, his students were always comparing him to their former Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers behind his back – or so they thought. The second years seemed happy that he didn't seem to be in danger of dying, as their last professor had done. The third years said loftily that he was 'almost as good as Lupin, but no one could beat Lupin, even if he had been a werewolf' – well, most of them said that. The fourth years were delighted that he never offered to autograph things for them, and the fifth years –well, he had given some of them quite a fright the day he'd shown up for class wearing a turban. He grinned at that memory and resolved to mention it to Remus next time he came through. Sirius frowned briefly, wondering where Remus was. He'd had a letter last week, saying that he was close on the trail of Pettigrew, but nothing since then.
He turned his attention back to the papers he was marking, and sighed. The fourth years had been assigned a general paper about a notable Dark Magic event of the past century; he'd wanted to see what they thought was worth writing about. Now he was beginning to think he'd made a mistake and should have stuck to Hinkypunks. Almost every paper was about Harry defeating Voldemort – or 'You-Know-Who' as they stubbornly insisted on calling him. Colin Creevey was the worst. The kid had a case of hero-worship so severe Sirius was sure that he thought the sun rose and set by Harry's word, and the essay showed it, talking in glowing terms of how Harry had defeated Voldemort. Of course, since no one knew, even now, how he had done it, the paper was a bit short on facts and long on compliments.
It was nearing Halloween now, and Sirius had been thinking about his old friends a lot recently anyway, but Creevey's essay brought back a wave of memories. He let the paper fall from his hands without realizing it as he remembered the endless pranks he and Remus and James had played, how he had always been the one to come up with wild schemes, and James the one to figure out how to make them work without getting themselves expelled in the process. He remembered how happy James and Lily had been when they had married, and how happy he had been as well. He glanced, almost unconsciously, at a framed picture he had of that day. You could see the happiness in their eyes still. His eyes traveled from James to Lily, to the woman by her side, laughing as well, and yet more sorrow filled him.
Jenny. He had loved her, loved her as James had loved Lily, and he had lost her. Such a small thing to die of, a simple illness that he had thought magic would cure easily. He hadn't known that she'd never fully recovered from the fire that killed her parents. He remembered that fire, how he had pulled her from the flames and used his limited knowledge of healing to keep her alive until a Healer could come. But he hadn't known how delicate her health had been. Perhaps she hadn't known. By the time she realized how ill she was, it was too late…. Perhaps she might have been cured, but the only person he knew who might have had a chance had died a scant three months before, Andrea, Remus' Andrea. Had Remus had it harder, or had he? Remus had not been able to say goodbye to Andrea; he had had to watch Jenny die slowly, unable to help her…
'Are you coming to the match?'
Sirius spun around to see Professor McGonagall in the door. He grinned.
'Wouldn't miss it, Minerva. Shall I save you a seat?'
'No need. I must stand over that Lee Jordan while he does the commentary.' She sighed. 'That boy is almost as bad as the Weasley twins… the three of them are a match for you and your friends.'
'Surely not! I'll have to give them more advice.' He grinned. She simply gave an over-dramatic sigh and left, heading for the Quidditch field. Sirius stood up and followed her, first putting all the essays into a drawer to finish marking later. Some things were more important than homework.
Out on the pitch, he found that the rest of the school had agreed with him. Lee Jordan was providing the commentary in his zany but slightly biased way, as usual.
'It's a lovely day for a Quidditch match! This first match of the season - Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff - couldn't have fallen on a more perfect day. The ground is still muddy from last night's storm, of course, but I doubt the players will care much about that!'
Sirius sat in the stands, watching raptly. The Quidditch was as good as it had been when he was Beater for the Gryffindor team. Now he had the opportunity to watch the Quidditch all the time, as a professor. He often said to Harry that it had been the only reason he had accepted the job, but they both knew that was only a joke.
Not many people had had as much first-hand experience of the Dark Arts as Sirius, even if certain other members of the staff were still convinced that he had learned them directly from Voldemort. The trial had accomplished much to clear his name, but to some people there was still a doubt. Sirius didn't waste much time thinking about them, but looked back at the Quidditch as Madam Hooch blew the whistle to begin.
'Angelina Johnson speeds the Quaffle up the field, passes to Katie Bell. Ernie McMillan shoots a Bludger at her - Fred Weasley deflects the Bludger - nice shot Fred! Katie's going for the goal - she scores! Ten-nil to Gryffindor.
'Now Hufflepuff's got the Quaffle. Finch-Fletchley's flying well, right toward the Gryffindor posts - George Weasley whacks the other Bludger his way but he dodges. He's speeding toward the goal - he's aiming - he's blocked with a spectacular move by Keeper Alicia Spinnet!
'Alicia, as you all know, played Chaser until last year, when she took over the job of Keeper. She's been replaced by Ginny Weasley. Ginny's the youngest player on the Gryffindor team, an excellent Chaser as well. She - hold on, what's that? She's hit in the head with a Bludger. That looks bad, she seems to be unconscious but is still balanced on her broom.'
Madam Hooch whistled time out as the Weasley twins managed to pull Ginny from her broom and get her to the ground. Madam Pomfrey was examining her when there came a sudden bang and a whoosh of air behind the huddle of people.
Sirius had been in the stands watching the match, but he had hurried down to see what was the matter when Ginny had been hit. Now he, along with most of the crowd, turned to see what had occurred.
A man lay sprawled in the mud. Sirius stared at him. He was dressed very elegantly, in a fine dove-gray suit, a top hat lying on the ground beside him and dark hair almost unruffled by his fall. Mud spattered all of his clothes and his face, giving him a strange patchwork appearance.
Sirius laughed in spite of himself, wondering where on earth the man could have come from. He couldn't have Apparated in, unless there was something badly amiss, and he hadn't appeared to have fallen from a broomstick. As the man did not move, Sirius began to make his way towards him. Not far off, Ginny sat up and rubbed her head. Lee was continuing his commentary, even though the game was not on.
'For those of you who did not see it, a strangely dressed man has just fallen from the sky into the mud.' He sounded like he was trying not to laugh.
Sirius spotted Minerva pushing her way through the crowd that had gathered around the man.
'Everybody, please go back to the stands,' she said sharply. She picked her way through the mud, Sirius following with one hand on his wand, eying the man. He raised his head, somehow managing to do even that with a dignity that suited his dress.
'Good afternoon,' he said faintly. Sirius noticed that he was extremely pale. 'Could you tell me where I am?'
'Are you hurt?' asked Minerva, stooping down. He probably wasn't dangerous, Sirius thought, but it would be better to keep nearby.
'I – don't think so,' he said. He seemed to look inwards for a moment. 'I think I'll be all right.' He sat up with something of a struggle. Sirius stepped forwards and helped him up. Mud caked his back, but he held himself as if he was unaware of it. Standing, he towered several inches above Sirius. There was a vague and distant look in his eyes; Sirius wondered briefly if he was concussed.
'Who are you?' asked Sirius bluntly.
'I am Chrestomanci.' The man brushed a bit of mud from himself and shook hands formally with Sirius, who grinned.
'Sirius Black. Pleased to meet you – er – Mr. Chrestomanci.'
'Just Chrestomanci will be fine,' the man said, looking at Sirius as if seeing him for the first time. 'Could you do me the kindness of telling me where I am?'
'Hogwarts,' said Minerva sternly. 'Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Now, if you'll step this way we'll continue the match, and you can explain exactly how you came here.'
The man nodded absently. He seemed slightly shaky on his feet as he walked off the pitch, which was, Sirius thought, not unexpected seeing as he had just fallen out of the sky. As the players remounted their broomsticks, Chrestomanci stared up at them in amazement.
Sirius noticed Madam Pomfrey approaching, and hastily ducked back out of her way. He looked back at the scene that had been the center of attention just moments ago. Ginny was re-mounting her broom and seemed fine. The Bludger had probably just stunned her momentarily.
Madam Pomfrey was talking to Chrestomanci quietly, one hand on his arm. He seemed to be having as much difficulty in fending her off as everyone else in the school did. Sirius looked up as the crowd rippled to let another person through.
Professor Dumbledore had appeared. 'Good afternoon,' he said with a genial smile. 'Good to see you.' He extended a hand to Chrestomanci, who shook it. 'I think you'd better come inside – if you don't mind, Poppy,' he added, turning to the matron. She gave a reluctant nod.
'Send him up to me when you've had your chat, though, please.' She looked at the stranger with narrowed eyes. 'He's had rough time lately.'
Chrestomanci gave a wry smile, and Sirius grinned.
'Sirius, Minerva, do come with us. I suspect what we have to discuss will involve you both.' Dumbledore nodded to them. 'And then you can explain to me exactly who you are and how you come to be here.'
As they walked slowly up to the school, Sirius heard Lee Jordan's commentary begin again. It looked like he wasn't going to get the opportunity to watch Harry play today.
Chrestomanci walked wearily, as if he had just run a marathon or was carrying a heavy burden, and the others slowed their steps to match his. None of them spoke as Dumbledore led them up to his parlor for receiving guests. He ushered Chrestomanci, mud and all, to a sofa, and Sirius took a seat at one side.
'Now then,' said Dumbledore. 'I believe you have come from another world?'
Sirius caught his breath and stared from Chrestomanci to Dumbledore. 'Another world?' he asked without comprehension. Minerva turned to him.
'There are many worlds,' she said, and he was reminded of the tone she used in lessons, 'very many other worlds. Very few people are aware of them, though some Muggle scientists have suggested the existence of what they call parallel universes. But the Muggles do not realize that the only way to move between the worlds is to use magic.'
'That is correct,' said Chrestomanci, 'though I am not entirely certain what you mean by Muggles.'
'Non-magical people,' said Minerva quickly.
Chrestomanci nodded. 'Well,' he said, 'it is quite correct that I have come here by magic. But I would appreciate knowing where I am, if you don't mind.' He looked at Dumbledore without a great deal of hope.
'From what I've read, I don't think you use exactly the same system of numbering the worlds as we do,' Dumbledore replied. 'Of course, you're still in Series Twelve –'
Sirius became even more confused. Other worlds and numbers and all manner of things that he'd never heard of. He wondered how many things he didn't know about the other worlds.
'Good,' said Chrestomanci. 'I was fairly sure I was, because of the language. I suspect that this world is very similar to my own in many ways.' He looked at Dumbledore as if he rather wished this were not the case, and Sirius bristled.
'How did you get here, then, if you come from another world?' he asked.
'Well,' said Chrestomanci, 'I am not entirely certain of the details. I was in a place of high magical intensity, and a very powerful enchanter somehow managed to work a spell that sent me flying through the barriers of the worlds.' He sighed. 'I have reason to suspect that the enchanter was not a native of my own world.'
A slight smile crossed Dumbledore's face. 'I think I may be familiar with the person you mean,' he said. 'Do you have any clues as to who he is?'
'Only a name, but I don't know if it's the name of a person or an organization or something altogether different. What does 'Voldemort' mean to you?'
Dumbledore nodded calmly. Minerva caught her breath and looked at Chrestomanci with disbelief. Sirius grinned with excitement. Now something would happen.
'I had wondered if he might not have been taking refuge in another world,' said Dumbledore. He looked at Chrestomanci's vague expression. 'Let me explain. Voldemort is a Dark wizard who has been attempting to take control of the running of our world for – how long would it be now? More than thirty years, I think. It does not surprise me in the slightest that he has been traveling between the worlds. I hope he has not caused you too much trouble?' His tone of voice suggested that he had let a stray dog into Chrestomanci's study and was hoping he had not chewed the furniture.
A shadow crossed Chrestomanci's aristocratic face. 'I fear he may have done a great deal of harm. Let me be candid with you. My most promising student – a nine-lived enchanter like myself – has been murdered by him, and the base of the strength I have has been destroyed.' He looked very tired again, and Sirius noticed him lean back against the sofa.
'That's terrible,' said Minerva softly. 'We have lost a great deal to You-Know-Who over the years. I was not aware that he was continuing his rampage into other worlds.'
Dumbledore said nothing, but Sirius could see that he was worried.
'I don't know why I ended up here,' continued Chrestomanci. 'It is possible that there is a compelling reason. But I now need to find another nine-lived enchanter to replace Cat – he was my student - or else my world will be in grave danger.' His vague look grew vaguer, and his voice trailed off.
Sirius stared at him, concerned and curious. 'Nine-lived enchanter?' he echoed. 'What's that?'
Minerva also looked puzzled. She was watching Chrestomanci with sharp eyes. 'I think you'd better go on up to the Infirmary,' she said. 'If you've been fighting You-Know-Who…'
She had not spoken too soon, for Chrestomanci did indeed look as if he would faint. He nodded weakly. Dumbledore smiled, and murmured something to the gargoyle on the door.
The door opened a few moments later and Madam Pomfrey arrived. She took a single look at Chrestomanci as he sat wearily in the sofa.
'Come on, straight up to the Infirmary with you,' she said, extending a sturdy arm to help him to his feet. Chrestomanci submitted to her fussing and allowed himself to be escorted away. When he was gone, Sirius and Minerva looked at each other.
'So what is a nine-lived enchanter?' asked Sirius.
Minerva shook her head. 'I don't know. I've never heard of them. Albus?'
Dumbledore jerked back from whatever train of thought he had been lost in. 'Nine-lived enchanters? Ah, now that's a tricky one. You understand that there are twelve Related Worlds, of which we are part of number twelve?'
Sirius nodded, not entirely confidently.
'Right, then each of the twelve worlds is split into a series. There are nine worlds in this series, and every person has a counterpart in each of the nine worlds. Is that clear?'
'Well,' said Sirius, 'I've never heard anything about this before.'
'No, it's not common knowledge, partly because there have been many tragic accidents when people tried to move between worlds.' He sighed. 'Anyway, you have a series of 'doubles,' in all of these nine worlds, and so do all other people. There are a very few, rare set of people who do not have doubles. All nine of the doubles are combined into one person, and so they have nine lives. These people are invariably highly gifted wizards and witches.'
'They have nine lives?' Sirius stared at him. 'That's impossible. You mean you can kill them and they don't die?'
'Precisely. They don't live forever, of course, they die eventually, but with the combination of powerful magic and the nine lives they have a much longer lifespan than most people.'
'And Chrestomanci said You-Know-Who killed one of these nine-lived enchanters?' Minerva looked horrified at the very thought.
'Yes.' Dumbledore frowned a little. 'I fear he is growing in strength again. And unless we can help my colleague Chrestomanci, he may gain a foothold in another world as well.'
Silence followed this comment, which was only broken when Madam Pomfrey came bustling into the room.
'Your guest's collapsed,' she said, nodding to Dumbledore. 'Absolute rest is what he needs, for a few days. Goodness knows what he's been doing.'
'Fighting Voldemort,' said Dumbledore soberly. 'And it looks like we're going to be doing a lot more of that over the next few days.'
~
The boat rocked slowly back and forth on the quiet waters of the English Channel. Remus Lupin considered himself fortunate as he sat on his bunk and noticed some of the other passengers looking very green and seasick. They would put in at Portsmouth in the morning.
He was almost in the last leg of his journey back home. This was the third day he had been traveling up through Europe from Albania, and he was tired. Nothing had turned out as he had hoped, and he felt that two months had been utterly wasted.
Well, what better thing would I be doing?
he asked himself. He knew the answer to that. But it had been frustrating all the same, for just as he had been in high hopes of success, his quarry had vanished. Remus had strong suspicions of where he had gone to, but they didn't really help, for Peter Pettigrew had gone where nobody could pursue him.Remus had hunted Peter through Albania, had tracked him down to his hiding place in a church, and would have caught him had he not disappeared. Thinking he had simply Disapparated, Remus had tried to follow, but he soon realized that Peter had performed a more complicated spell than that. From what he could tell, Peter had escaped him by crossing the boundaries into another world.
How he had done it was anybody's guess, and Remus had not believed it was true for a long time. But after he had vanished, Remus had carefully tried to trace him with various charms, and had finally established that Peter Pettigrew had leapt into another world.
The possibilities of this alarmed Remus greatly. For what Pettigrew could do, he was certain Voldemort could do as well. The very thought of Voldemort loose in another world scared him. And so he was rushing back to Hogwarts as swiftly as he could to bring the news.
Well, Remus thought, it won't do any good if I stay awake all night. He lay down on the narrow, uncomfortable bunk. It was a nicer place than many he had slept in over the past months, and he was very tired. It was not long before he was asleep, lulled by the gentle rocking of the ferry.
He was in a room in a house he did not recognize, but that was strangely familiar to him nonetheless. Voices spoke behind him, and he spun around. Three women were sitting together, two side-by-side on a sofa and the third in an armchair near them. Remus gasped.
'Andrea!' he cried. None of them moved from their seats. He stared, and started across the room towards her. Again he called her name, and again she ignored him utterly. He went over to her and reached out to her, but his hand went through her arm and she neither saw nor felt him. Wildly, Remus turned to the other two women. It was a moment before he recognized one, but the other he knew instantly from her green eyes. He shouted at them, and still they did not hear.
Frustration and anger were welling up inside Remus, and he stood between the women and shouted for all he was worth, but none of them so much as blinked. He turned back to Andrea.
'Oh, my love, why can't you see me?' he said, reaching out to her, but again his hands went through her body. Three times he tried to catch her in his arms, and three times he failed. He sank down to the floor beside them and wept tears that the women did not hear.
'I don't know,' replied the woman on the armchair to a question he hadn't heard. He could tell it was Lily from her voice alone. 'But James won't be here tonight. He's opening the Halloween Festival up in London.'
'Good for him,' said the third woman, Jenny Anderson. 'Perhaps we all should have gone, instead of sitting around here like so many wet hens.'
The other two smiled.
'Perhaps we should,' said Andrea. 'But – well, parties and feasts on Halloween…' She trailed off. Remus knew at once what she was describing, but then he looked up at her in confusion. Andrea had been dead when that had happened, she had been spared the grief of knowing what had become of her friends. That was strange.
'Yes, I know,' said Jenny, reaching out and putting her arm around Andrea.
'Fourteen years ago,' said Andrea softly, 'and it still feels like it was yesterday.' She put one hand over the other and twisted a ring she wore on her finger. Remus did not have to look closely to see the opal that glittered in the center, and he caught his breath in a mixture of joy and sadness. Andrea still wore his ring.
He gazed at the women as they talked softly about things he didn't really understand. They all were older than he remembered, far older. Lily was no longer as slender as she had been as a young woman, she looked plump and comfortable, and still very pretty. Jenny had changed greatly, he had been hard put to recognize her at first, but now he could see the same woman Sirius had loved. And his own Andrea – in his eyes she was as beautiful as the day he had first seen her, but she too looked older. All of their faces were lined, both with laughter lines and furrows of care and sadness.
The floor began to shake. Remus caught hold of something, and it was a blanket. He lurched backwards and forwards wildly, and the scene began to dissolve.
The ship gave another lurch, and Remus was wide awake as it rolled back and forth on the seas. He was still shaking. Never before had he had such a vivid dream. His bunk swayed beneath him, and he pulled the blankets around him, trying to put the thoughts of those three women from his head. What does it mean? he asked himself over and over again, and he did not fall asleep again that night.
When they put in at Portsmouth, he put the dream from his mind and set about finding a train that would take him to London.
~
Fred and George hurried down the corridor, shaking with suppressed laughter. They turned a corner and crouched, waiting for their scheme to mature.
There came a great explosion and a flood of water from under a nearby door. The boys heard a wailing noise.
"Oh, if it weren't enough to have people mocking me and throwing books through my head, now they have to blow up my bathroom!"
The twins looked at each other. "Success!"
George snorted with laughter. "Myrtle is such fun to play with, isn't she?"
"Yes. Now let's get out of here before Filch shows up." Fred led the way.
They were halfway down the stairs when they heard the noise of running feet behind them. Then there was a scream, followed by a horrible thump. The twins stared at each other, white-faced, before turning and running back up the stairs.
Ginny lay in the corridor, head against the wall. They saw the blood on the wall and the great wound on her head. She had apparently slipped in the water that covered the floor.
"Oh no," Fred gasped, rushing to her side.
"She hasn't got a pulse!" George said frantically. Fred leapt to his feet and began to run down the hall, yelling for Madame Pomfrey loudly.
A crowd of people appeared as if from nowhere, clustering around Ginny. Madame Pomfrey was among them, pulling out her wand as she knelt by Ginny's side. Pomfrey's hands were steady, but her voice shook.
"What happened?" she demanded, not looking up from Ginny.
"She- she fell," Fred said miserably. "Is – is she alive?"
Madame Pomfrey did not answer for a long moment, instead checking for a pulse and examining Ginny's wound.
"I'm taking her to the hospital wing, now," Pomfrey said finally. "She's not dead yet."
Her words did not comfort the twins at all, and they hurried after her as she went, miserable and terrified that their sister was dead.
~
Chrestomanci sat on the end of the bed in the Infirmary. Persuading Madam Pomfrey that he was well enough to leave was proving harder than he had thought. She was impossible to wheedle, coax or argue into doing something she didn't want to do. And Chrestomanci also had to fight the nagging idea that she was probably right. The enchanter who had murdered Cat, his apprentice, had also half-destroyed the garden that was the roots of his power. He was tired.
He knew there was a nine-lived enchanter somewhere in the school. The whole building glowed with it. Sometimes he felt jolts as the person exercised his power. Dumbledore had come and talked with him, and they had considered many possibilities, including a boy called Harry Potter, whom everyone seemed to think very highly of. But Dumbledore had brought the boy to see him, and Chrestomanci could tell at once that he was no enchanter. A powerful wizard, no doubt about that, and with some very unusual skills, but he had only one life. But he had to find the enchanter. He had been here three days, and all the while he had been keenly aware that his own world was suffering from his absence.
Suddenly he sat bolt upright. This was it. Whoever the nine-lived enchanter was, he had just lost a life. Suddenly he was glad he was in the Infirmary. If someone had lost a life, chances were he would end up here.
There were shouts outside, someone shouting for Madam Pomfrey. He waited, alert. This was it. Now, the enchanter would arrive.
It seemed to take a very long time between when Madam Pomfrey had rushed out and when she came back prodding a stretcher forwards with her wand. He peered forwards to see, getting up from the bed.
There was a rather small shape lying on the stretcher. He stared. It was a girl, with flaming red hair and even redder blood oozing from a gash in her scalp. But there could be no doubt about who she was. An enchantress, then, not an enchanter. As he watched intently, Madam Pomfrey muttered spells under her breath and put her hands on the wound. There were two more boys, both with equally red hair, standing on either side of her with extremely anxious looks on their faces. For a split second, Chrestomanci wondered if he were seeing double, for the boys were identical. Then one bent down, and he realized they were twins.
'Out, both of you,' said Madam Pomfrey without looking up.
'Will she be all right?' demanded one, without budging.
'I don't know. Don't interrupt me.' Her tone was sharper than Chrestomanci had ever heard it before, and she looked very concerned.
'She'll be all right,' said Chrestomanci, getting up and crossing the room.
Madam Pomfrey did not look up. Chrestomanci absently identified the spell she was using as a fairly advanced Resuscitation Charm, recalling long lessons on how to identify different types of magic.
'You don't have to do that,' he said. 'She really will be fine.'
'For Asclepius' sake, shut up!' she snapped. 'She's not breathing.'
Chrestomanci decided there was no use in protesting. Madam Pomfrey stared at Ginny helplessly for a moment, then sank back on her heels.
'It's no good,' she said in a voice so quiet that Chrestomanci barely heard. 'She's dead.'
Chrestomanci debated whether to tell her it would be all right or not. He was utterly certain of what he had felt, and he knew the girl was a nine-lived enchanter – enchantress, he corrected himself mentally – and that she hadn't used up all her lives. So she would be fine. The matron was looking very upset, and he wondered what to do.
'Let me look at her,' he said, approaching.
'There's nothing that can be done,' said Madam Pomfrey in a sternly controlled voice, standing up. Chrestomanci looked at the girl carefully. He could feel the next life about to take over, it was almost making his neat hair stand on end. Then he saw her chest rise and fall once, and twice.
'She's alive,' he said gently.
Madam Pomfrey stiffened. 'Don't be silly,' she said in a razor-edged voice. 'She's dead.'
At that point, the girl coughed. Madam Pomfrey spun around, eyes wide. She stared at her patient with incredulity, then dropped down by the stretcher.
'Ginny,' she gasped as the girl's eyes flickered open, then shut again. A slight smile made its way across Chrestomanci's face.
'Just let her lie still for a bit,' he said. 'She'll be a little disorientated at first, but she'll be fine in a few minutes.' He sat down on the edge of a bed nearby and watched. Madam Pomfrey did not take his advice, but began to work various unnecessary spells. Well, it wouldn't hurt her, Chrestomanci thought, perhaps the matron could use the practice.
As he had predicted, the girl – Ginny, Chrestomanci thought the matron had called her – blinked again and looked around her confusedly. Madam Pomfrey spoke quietly to her, and Chrestomanci was impressed with the professional control of her voice. He didn't listen to what was being said, but he watched as the matron levitated the girl into a bed and drew the curtains around it.
A few minutes later she emerged, still looking shaken.
'I'd have sworn she was dead,' she said slowly, almost as if talking to herself. 'I've never seen anything like it before. I think I'd better ask Dumbledore to come and have a look at her.'
Chrestomanci didn't answer, and sat watching on the edge of his bed. Madam Pomfrey went to the door and hurried off, with a parting injunction to him not to go anywhere.
He went to have a look behind the curtain. The red-haired girl was rubbing her head as though she had a headache, and she still looked a trifle disorientated.
'Aren't you the man who fell into the Quidditch match?' she asked when he stuck his head through the gap in the curtains.
'Yes, that's right,' he said, allowing his eyes to lose their focus as he tried to gauge the extent of her abilities. He wondered what her weak point was. It was bound to be something. 'How do you feel?' he asked after a moment.
'All right. Got a headache. Madam Pomfrey won't tell me what happened, though. She just says I have to rest. Do you know?' The girl looked at him piercingly with her blue eyes. 'You're a strong wizard, aren't you?'
Chrestomanci chuckled a little at that. 'So are you,' he said. 'I'm not sure what happened to you, but you did hurt your head.'
'It was the twins,' she said, scowling. 'They always do things like that. But I mean, what happened to get Madam Pomfrey all worked up, and why's she gone to get Dumbledore?'
Chrestomanci hesitated. 'It's a bit complicated, and – well, you've got to know at some point. How much do you know about World Theory?'
'What?' She looked puzzled, and Chrestomanci sighed. It was going to take a while.
Ten minutes later, he had explained the rudiments of the way the Related Worlds worked, and she was looking tired and confused.
'Why are you telling me all this?' she asked. 'I mean, what's it got to do with anything?'
Chrestomanci, who had gone to sit on the end of her bed to explain better, sighed. Then he heard the door open, and the voices of the matron and the Headmaster.
'No,' the matron was protesting. 'I am quite certain.' She drew back the curtains to admit Professor Dumbledore. 'What are you doing here?' she demanded, looking outraged. 'Ginny is ill and so are you.'
'We're both fine,' said Chrestomanci, looking at Dumbledore. The ancient wizard looked amused, and Chrestomanci could see at once that he understood what was happening.
'I think Chrestomanci should remain,' he said with a smile. 'He has something to tell us, I see.'
'I was in the process of explaining what happened to – to Ginny.' He thought of Cat with some sadness. This girl seemed to be considerably more daring than Cat had been. She'd liven things up at Chrestomanci Castle, he thought. 'As I was saying,' he continued, turning back to Ginny, 'all of this is relevant. You and I are alike in that we do not have a string of doubles throughout the series.'
'Why not?' she asked as he paused.
'All of our lives are collected together. So all nine people are – well, the best way to imagine it is that they're collected together inside you. It's the same for me. That's what makes you such a talented witch, and it's what allowed you to survive this accident. You have nine lives, Ginny, or you did.' He looked at her searchingly. 'I make it six now. What other accidents have you had?'
Ginny looked thunderstruck, as did Madam Pomfrey. Dumbledore was smiling.
'You're pulling my leg,' said Ginny after a moment. She looked appealingly at the Headmaster, but he was nodding.
'Have you had any other dangerous accidents during your life?' he asked.
'Well – there was the other day, with the Bludger – that was really odd,' she said slowly. 'I thought I was dying for a minute.'
Chrestomanci felt as though someone had just switched the lights on. 'Of course,' he murmured under his breath. 'Of course.' That would explain why he had been pulled here. If this enchantress had lost a life just as Voldemort was attacking him, it would have diverted him here by the force of it. 'That was when I arrived?' he asked, though he already knew the answer.
Dumbledore too was nodding. 'That's correct. I take it that explains your presence here?'
'Yes.' The wizard might be ancient, thought Chrestomanci, but he was certainly alert. 'What about the first life?' he asked.
'I don't know. I can't think of anything.' She frowned. 'Oh, of course. The – the diary.' She looked at Dumbledore, who was nodding. 'I don't want to talk about it,' she murmured.
'Please,' said Chrestomanci, 'it is extremely important.' He looked up at Dumbledore.
'Ginny suffered an attack by Voldemort three years ago,' he said. 'He was drawing on her lives to increase his own strength.'
'Ah,' said Chrestomanci. 'I am familiar with the situation. What did Voldemort use?'
'A diary,' said Ginny in a small voice.
'I see. Now,' Chrestomanci turned towards Dumbledore, 'I'm going to have to ask you to allow Ginny to come back with me as my student.'
Dumbledore did not move for a moment. 'Well, of course I quite understand why it's necessary, but the people you really have to speak with are Miss Weasley's parents.'
'That'll be fine. It is extremely urgent that Ginny and I return to my world as soon as possible, and we will continue to work at the problem of Voldemort.' Ginny and Madam Pomfrey both flinched. 'Without her help, I really don't know how we're going to get him back here in your world.'
~
"Absolutely not!" Mrs. Weasley glared at Professor Dumbledore. She and her husband and Ginny were in his office, along with Chrestomanci. Dumbledore and Chrestomanci were both seated, but Mrs. Weasley paced up and down.
"But she must," Chrestomanci insisted. "It's vital to the security of the universes."
"She's my daughter, and she's fourteen. She's not going off gallivanting off to strange worlds. Why don't you find some other girl and leave Ginny alone?" Her glare did not let up.
Chrestomanci sighed. "My dear Mrs. Weasley, I wish I could. Unfortunately, nine-lived wizards are extremely rare. In my own world, there were only two –myself and another, who is now dead. I cannot leave your world without her help." He tried to smile in a soothing manner, but Mrs. Weasley still looked like a tiger.
"Molly," Arthur Weasley ventured, "perhaps we should consider – after all, this is quite an opportunity for Ginny – and my, if they need her help that badly, we should let her go."
"Indeed," Dumbledore said. "She could become an incredibly powerful woman, Mrs. Weasley. And she will have a vital job. As my esteemed colleague has stated, the post is important to the safety of the universes."
Mrs. Weasley hesitated, then opened her mouth.
"Excuse me?" Ginny stood up and walked over. "I am here, Mum. I'm fourteen, not four. I want to have a say in this."
Once more, Mrs. Weasley opened her mouth, but Dumbledore held up a hand. "Why don't we let her speak?" he asked. She glared but didn't say anything.
"Thank you," Ginny said to Dumbledore. Then she faced her parents. "Dad, Mum, I want to do this! This is something special, something that I'm needed for, something that I can do! As for it being dangerous, well, after all, I've still got six lives. And it could hardly be as bad as the Chamber of Secrets, could it?" She smiled at her mother. "Besides, it'll be fun."
"Well," Mrs. Weasley began, looking at Chrestomanci, "Would she be able to come home if she wished to?"
"Of course," he said. "She'll have to live at my castle while being trained, but she can come to visit as soon as she masters traveling between worlds. And she'll have company – my own children and another."
Ginny smiled. "Let me try, Mum, all right? If I don't like it, well, I can come home."
"Oh," she said helplessly, "All right. If your father agrees."
Ginny turned to her father. "Dad, please?"
"Have fun in those other worlds," he said, smiling. "And write home lots."
"Oh, I will," she said, crying a little with excitement and happiness. "Thanks, Mum!"
TO BE CONTINUED