Disclaimer: Evyerthing in this chapter remotley related to Harry Potter belongs to JKR.
The quote at the bgeinning is from "/quotes/with/keyword/storytellers/"
Chapter 2: A Prolouge Continued
"No storyteller has ever been able to dream up anything as fantastically unlikely as what really does happen in this mad Universe." Lazarus Long
She's my sister, you know." She pointed towards the black-haired girl. We were close when we were kids." He looked at her, and he sensed that there was more to the story than she was telling him. He might be arrogant and conceited, but he wasn't stupid. She chose one of the chairs next to them. "Sit down, Abraxas Malfoy, son of Lucius and Priscilla Malfoy and I shall tell you their story."
She hesitated slightly before leaning back again and snapping her fingers. With a soft pop, an elf appeared next to them. "Two goblets of the special wine, please." He watched her, wondering what this was all about. A small elf placed the win in front of them.
She took a small sip of wine before putting the goblet back onto the table. "First, you must know, what I am."
"I know who you are, Miss Greengrass."
"Not who I am, but what I am. It is not the same, remember that. It is one of the many lessons you shall learn. I am a spinner of stories. Of one story, to be exact." He was staring at her as if he was trying to decide if she was crazy. She just smiled gently- she had reacted that way as well when she had been told the first story. It all seemed like an eternity away now.
"But let me explain before you declare me to be foolish. When Salazar Slytherin left, only a handful of people knew the truth about him- it is a story you shall see in the future. One of the people who did know was his sister, Sapienta Slytherin. But she knew that she, too, wouldn't stay much longer in this place, so she chose one of her brother's students, a young man of whom little is reported, and told him her brother's story. And when the time came, he gave it on to another spinner, together with another story that he had made for the future members of this house who deserves to have his or her story told. And while no one might remember our names, the names of the story spinners; their names, the names of those whose stories are told, shall be etched into our minds forever."
He didn't doubt any longer that she was telling the truth, though he was still confused. "What does any of this have to do with me?"
"As I am sure you will have guessed by now, I am one of them. A story spinner, maker of tales, divider between fact and fiction. Do not be mistaken- we do not make the stories, and we can not interfere with fate's choices, but we are the ones responsible that no story worthwhile shall be lost throughout the throes of time.
And you, Abraxas, son of Lucius, you are my successor. And that is why I shall tell you the stories, stories of Slytherin cunning and wit, stories of cold hearts and true loves, stories of battles and victories, of attacks and deaths."
He was staring at her, shocked. "I'm your…successor? A story spinner or whatever you call it?" It was meant to sound arrogant and doubtful, but as soon as he had spoken, he felt a pull he couldn't deny. Towards her, towards this, it was his destiny. With a slow movement, she put his hand on top of hers. The moment was magical, and he would not be able to remember if it were seconds, minutes or hours that had passed. He could feel everything pouring from her into him, thoughts and memories, and slowly, it all began to make sense. Countless views and snapshots arranged themselves, softly speaking voices in the background.
And then, he saw. And then, he heard. And then, he knew. And then, he understood.
For the first time in his life, he felt sure of who, of what he was. And as he could see the picture of former members of this house flash through his mind, and as he heard their voices telling him their stories, he felt home. She sat their, watching him. He knew everything now, how Slytherin House had fallen and risen from the ashes, time after time, whenever necessary.
She let his mission sink in. From now on, he was the story spinner of Slytherin house, maker of stories and keeper of them at the same time, or at least, he would soon be. But until then, she had one last story. It wasn't her story, but she would be the one to tell it. Because despite the fact that she would be the one to tell this story, it was not the story of her life.
And so, she began. "This is Ginevra's story, the story of a girl who grew into the young woman she will need to be." And as she began speaking, he could see all those pictures in front of her.
"She was a little girl, when she came here, barely eleven years old. She was bright, from what I could deduce. A Weasley, so she would be in Gryffindor of course." As if looking through a different pair of eyes, Daphne's probably, he could see her now.
Only two more students stood behind Professor McGonogall, a redheaded, small girl and a black haired boy with a refined, aristocratic face. Most people in the room were talking already, chatting with their neighbours about the summer holidays. After all, it was completely clear where these two students would go. The youngest Weasley and a Yaxley- she would be in Gryffindor while he was meant to be a Slytherin.
"Weasley, Ginevra", the deputy headmistress called out and the redheaded girl moved towards the chair, sitting down on pulling on the hat. The Sorting only took seconds, which surprised no one. However, the result did.
"Slytherin!"
The silence was cruel and tormenting. The girl blushed under the numerous stares and those sitting closest to the head table could see the tears in her eyes. Finally, after seconds that seemed like minutes, she straightened her shoulder and walked towards the farthest table. At the Gryffindor table, Percy Weasley was awakened from his stupor and began clapping for his sister, a desperate attempt to fight against the awkward silence. The headmaster joined him, and before long, most of the students were clapping, though half-heatedly. However, at the Slytherin table, a deadly silence awaited the eleven-year-old. None of her housemates were doing anything but staring at her full of anger and hate. The chair she chose was one of the only empty ones at the table, between a boy in fourth or fifth year and a second-year girl, one of Pansy Parkinson's minions. Both of them scooted away from her rapidly.
When Ginny went to sleep that night, she could still hear the mocking voices in her ear. "You don't belong here. You're not one of us." They were right, the thought. She was a Weasley, she was supposed to be a Gryffindor. Her family had been in the lion's house for generations and they were known for their courage. She didn't belong here, between pure-bloods and Slytherins who saw her as a blood-traitor.
She felt alone and abandoned, and in the dark of the night, she turned to her only solace: the black diary which had appeared between her school books. Tom was the only one who understood her. The next weeks and months were even worse than she had anticipated. Most of her house ignored her, but it was hard to ignore the evil glances and snide comments sent her way all too often. What hurt her even more, though, was the way her family behaved. Percy was the only one of her brothers who spoke to her.
Priscilla Parkinson, the stuck-up girl she had met her first evening had taken great pleasure in telling Ginny that Ron had called her a bitch and a traitor. "Well, he's right about that. You are a traitor. A stupid little bint of a blood-traitor. Even your own people don't want you anymore. Poor little Weasel, you don't belong anywhere!" Fred and George ignored her as well, and neither Bill nor Charlie had answered her letter. What was worst though was her parent's letter. "You are a disappointment to us and your family, Ginevra." Her mother hadn't sent a howler, but in a twisted way, that made it even worse. It was more than a passing anger- and that one letter was the only one she received throughout the whole school year.
She came to rely on Tom more and more during those long months. Apart from him, flying was the only thing that kept her sane. First-years weren't allowed to own brooms, but they could use the school brooms whenever they wished. Apart from that, she withdrew herself from everyone around her, instead focusing on her studies. She was the top student in her year in charms, and she would have been in potions and defence had Snape not been so unfair towards her, or if they had a proper teacher instead of that git Lockhart. Continuing taunts from her housemates forced her to find a shield spell in the library, and she combined it with another spell to make the effects last for twenty-four hours. Tom helped her with it. She had a strange feeling about the diary sometimes, especially after Mrs Norris was petrified and when the attacks became more frequent. But there was no one she could have talked to about it, and she refused to give up the only friend she had.
"Why didn't you do anything?" he asked, angrily.
She smiled bitterly. "That is the first thing you should learn, Abraxas. I spun her story, if you want to call it that, I was her biographer and so I wasn't allowed to interfere. You won't be able to either. And now, let us continue.
It was May before things took a drastic turn to the worse and she found herself at Tom's mercy in the Chamber of Secrets. He enjoyed inflicting pain, and all the more, he enjoyed inflicting it on her.
"And the next part is not my story nor is it hers and as such, I can not tell it. Perhaps, maybe, you will still know it, because for all intents and purposes, it will be a prologue to yours. All important for the time-being is that she did indeed survive the Chamber and reappeared outside the headmaster's office. She wasn't the same after that, but then, who would be? But, despite the many nightmares that haunted her and the fact that of her family only Percival spoke to her, things did get a little bit better.
"Ginevra."
She turned around, surprised. She had been sitting outside by the lake, reading. She hadn't expected anyone to talk to her, and she was shocked when she turned around to see Astoria. When she recognised her, she became wary. "Yes."
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to surprise you. I just wanted to talk to you." She sat down, uninvited. "I wanted to apologize for my behaviour this past year. It wasn't fair of me to treat you badly for simply being who you are. Anyway, I hope you can forgive me."
She stood up and began moving away again. Ginny turned half-around watching the other girl walk away. "Astoria. Wait!" She came back slowly, looking surprised.
"I don't have anything to forgive you, Astoria. You never treated me the way the others did."
Astoria leaned against the tree next to where Ginny was sitting, unsure whether to stay or go. "I never did anything either. You must have been lonely. And…I heard what happened. I'm really very sorry. I just…my family, my father…"
"It's alright." She found that she really wasn't angry. Astoria Greengrass had never approached her before, but she really hadn't ever done anything to Ginny. And it was hard to blame her for that. "I don't know if I could promise I wouldn't have done the same if our positions were reversed."
"Thank you." She looked away for a moment.
They sat in silence for several moments until Ginny looked at her. Do you know what they say- Ravenclaws are smart, Hufflepuffs are stupid, Gryffindors are brave and Slytherins are evil."
Astoria laughed slightly. "You have it all wrong. Hufflepuffs are just plain stupid, Gryffindors are foolish, Ravenclaws are book-smart and Slytherins are cunning, clever and always right."
"None of it is true, is it?"
"Sometimes I ask myself that, too." She pointed at Crabbe and Goyle who were strutting around. "Oh, look at those two goons, Ginevra. When I see them, well, how can I honestly believe in pureblood supremacy? But then- it's what my whole family believes. I don't know how to think about it all."
The laugh was bitter and most certainly not that of an eleven-year-old. "Call me Ginny- I don't want to hex you. And don't put too much hope in families, Astoria. You might be disappointed."
"I heard the rumours- but I didn't think it was true."
"Probably, most of what you heard was."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be." She stood up with a fluent movement. "Thank you, Astoria. Everything you said today meant a lot to me." Astoria watched the other girl walk away, her red hair swinging behind her. Astoria had grown up in a pureblood mansion, where emotions were expendable and should never be displayed. It had taught her to read people- apart from a lot of other things. Life hadn't been easy on Astoria Greengrass, though she was a member of the wizarding world's upper ruling class. But while she had seen fear and suffering during her life, she had never seen someone so broken as Ginevra Weasley was.
She had not seen it right away- the other girl had quickly learned to cover it all with a mask of ignorance, but she couldn't deny that Ginevra, no Ginny, had suffered through more than being shunned by her family and taunted by her housemates. She looked out onto the lake, watching the couples beneath the trees, a group of Gryffindor third-years who were trying to get each other to jump into the lake, and Priscilla Parkinson talking to Marius Flint. She would help Ginny, she vowed. Because it was unfair that someone no older than her should have suffered so much, and because she seemed like a nice girl, and because if she wouldn't help her, who would? And with the silent promise of a young girl, their friendship began.
"You now understand this house as well as only I do." That was true, he realized. Even though he hadn't had the time to completely comprehend that he knew the history of Slytherin House back to its founder, it was still something deeper. He knew. All of it.
She continued with a slights mile. "And you understand that here," she let her gaze wander through the Common Room ,"one can only survive by being strong. And she was that. There is a Muggle saying. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. I don't believe in it- far too often, things that don't kill you still mar you forever, but in her case, it was proven true.
Against the odds, she fought herself to the top. At the beginning, it was only Astoria by her side. But she found a mentor and teacher in a most unexpected person. Severus Snape might be a cold and angry teacher, but he takes care of his own, of us. And he had failed her. Like all of them, he had let himself be blinded by her last name and by what she was supposed to be. He couldn't forgive himself that, you know. So he made it up to her, made her his protégé and appertience, in a way. She is brilliant at potions, I mentioned it before, and he taught her even more. I guess that perhaps, he now stands in the place of the father who betrayed her. And a fourth member joined them, an ally at first. Astoria made that alliance, because while Theodore Nott might be a Death Eater's son, he is anything but stupid. And he saw that things were changing, and so, he became an ally to them, and later a friend.
It's easy to follow someone like her. And she made her way to the top of the house, supported by friends and allies. She is a Slytherin after all. By the way- you would do well do tell your friends not to call anyone mudblood, blood-traitor or anything of the like- things have changed in Slytherin House.
She has made her path, and she made her choices. She is a Slytherin now, more than just one of us. When the time comes, this house will follow her. But she has not healed from the pain, the suffering and the betrayal. And though she is still broken, I must end my story. Because from now on it is not mine any longer, but yours, just as it is not hers alone. I spun and told the story of Ginevra Weasley, but you shall tell a different one."
He had not noticed the dark young man approaching them, and was surprised when she turned around slightly. Suddenly she looked so much older. With a slight sigh, she gave him a bitter half smile. "And this is our curse. I am a story keeper, and I have given on all of my knowledge. I shall not remain- for I have fulfilled my mission." She looked at him. "Good luck, Abraxas Malfoy. Spin and tell your story, and be proud of what you, of what we are." The young man helped her up from the chair, steadying her gently as Abraxas still wtached the pair. "Take me home, Blaise," she whispered.
AN. First of all, a gigantic thank you to all of my reviewers. Your feedback and your opinions mean a lot to me!
Just a couple of remarks to the chapter. First of all, I am sorry that we saw so little of the main characters, but this chapter is an important build-up for the rest of the story. I hope you still enjoyed it. If anyone has questions to story spinners, please tell me. I tried to make their role as clear as possible through Daphne's explanations, but if it wasn't enough, I will be happy to answer any questions.
Wanderer