Chapter 3

Shock flittered across Ginny's face as she gasped. Having suddenly found herself in an entirely new place she felt her heart stutter in panic. On either side of her was what was once fresh grasslands. Winding sidewalks were overgrown with brown dried up weeds. The field was lined with strategically placed benches that looked like they hadn't been sat on in years. It couldn't have been more eerie even if it was a graveyard. As it was she expected ghosts of children to come bounding across the open space at any moment.

"Harry? Where are we?"

He stumbled before crouching in wary defense. "I do not know." His head whipped right and left. Ginny hastily reached into her pocket, thankful for her mother's over-protectiveness. Her fingers wrapped around a wand—not her own, as that one was long since snapped—but one of her great uncle's, a spare. Her mother had quickly handed it over to her when Ginny confessed how defenseless she had felt since her own had been taken.

She turned to Harry, hearing his breathing accelerate. He was no longer whipping his head around in confusion. Now he was staring at her, alarm coloring every aspect of his stance. He backed away from her in shock. She was the first person he had ever trusted and look what that had got him.

Ginny instantly felt horrible even though she knew that she had not done anything to hurt him. But his face screamed betrayal.

"Harry?" she said softly. "It's alright..." She slowly raised her hands in an attempt to placate him. She saw his eyes dart fearfully to the wand in her hand.

"This?" she asked, gesturing to the wand cautiously. "My mum gave it to me, so I could protect myself." She felt overwhelming sadness at the thought that she may have lost the connection she had to the scared boy. "Please, Harry..." Her voice cracked under the strain and stress of the day. "I promise I'm not going to hurt you."

He looked at her piercingly. Ginny would not have torn her gaze from his if she could. Whatever he saw in her eyes seemed to reassure him as he relaxed his stance, releasing his previous defensive pose.

Suddenly, Ginny felt very thankful that the sun had set cloaking her and Harry in darkness. Harry stood before her wearing little, very little, nothing but a rag. And here she stood in sweatpants and a t-shirt that both engulfed her frame. She was barefoot and her hair was still wet. They were not what anyone would describe as inconspicuous.

There was a rustle of grass and a sudden bell. Ginny squinted into the night and saw a bicycle approaching.

"Come on, Harry. We really shouldn't be seen." She held out her hand to him and smiled at him gratefully when he slowly slid his hand into hers. She pulled him with her toward the street below the hill that the abandoned park was on. The town was quaint, with the distinct feeling that it had been around forever. It reminded her of a very small version of Diagon Alley with its cobblestone road and the old-fashioned façade of the buildings. Each business had a hand-painted sign hanging on a post that jutted into the street.

Harry glanced up and down the deserted street as the two walked quietly, keeping close to the shadows. He was thankful the street was quiet. While he was fervently scanning his surroundings, he couldn't help but be distracted but the warm feeling of Ginny's hand in his own. He didn't know that such warmth could come from such a small thing.

Suddenly she gasped, sending waves of panic through his system, but he didn't run. He would not run from her. Instead he turned to see her pointing at a sign, in shock.

"Godric's Hollow Post" was all the sign read.

"What is wrong?" he asked.

"Harry," she whispered turning to look at him. "You've been here before. This is where you lived with your parents. This is where they were killed."

She held his gaze calmly as she watched him struggle to comprehend. She instinctively knew that she was his lifeline. She had quickly become what he cleaved to as everything he had ever known lost its veracity.

"Parents?" Harry asked as he looked at her in utter confusion. But Ginny was distracted by a sudden warmth in her left pocket.

***

"Where did he take her?"

"How could this have happened?"

The growing agitation of the small room's occupants made it feel as if the walls were closing in, and this hornets' nest was about to fall right of the branch and produce an explosion of angry bees. Bill dashed out of the room and up the stairs without attracting a single person's attention.

"I thought we had anti-Apparation wards!" Charlie exclaimed.

"You do," Dumbledore said, but his eyes were unfocused. Then suddenly he looked taken aback, as if his own thoughts had surprised him. "But he didn't use a wand; those types of wards are based on the fact that the spells would require a wand." The explanation spilled out of Dumbledore as a reflex, his mind was quite obviously elsewhere.

"What if he brought her back—back to the people who hurt her?" came Molly's lament. At the hitch in her voice, all her boys turned to look at her. Her sons nearest her embraced her and empty words of reassurance spilled out and rushed over each other as each tried to assuage their mother's fear and panic.

The frenzy suspended as the harsh reality seeped in. Helplessness was the prevailing emotion in this moment of inactivity.

Bill suddenly came running down the stairs, almost falling in his rush. He produced a small smooth stone and held it in the air triumphantly.

He was panting. "She's alright." Eyes desperate for reassurance latched on to him like a life preserver. "She's not scared."

"Is that a guardian stone?" Dumbledore asked.

Bill cast his eyes down in guilt. "Yeah, I got them in Egypt. And... I, uh, slipped the other stone in the pocket of the sweatpants I lent to Ginny."

"What?" Ron asked, shaking his head in confusion. "What kind of stone are you talking about?"

"I knew Ginny would flag me for it when she found it, but it just made me feel better. Turned out, it paid off."

"Thank the heavens," Molly breathed out.

"The stone," Dumbledore began, ever the teacher, "connects two people. Whenever one is in distress the stone warms. It's mostly used to keep track of young witches and wizards who are at risk. Whatever is drawn on one stone can be seen on the other. And if the stone carrier's need is great enough, it will direct the guardian's Apparation directly to them... They are incredibly rare."

"Well then, what are we waiting for? George exclaimed.

"That's why I think she's fine. She's not scared. Her need is not enough to power the magic to direct my Apparation."

"Fine, then send her a message. Find out where she is!" Fred continued.

"She has to find the stone first," Bill said. "I'm trying to get hers to warm so she'll find it. It just takes time. But at least we know."

"Yes," Mr. Weasley said, as if trying to remind himself. "At least we know she's relatively safe."

***

Harry watched in confusion as Ginny reached down searchingly into her pocket and pulled out a smooth, flat stone. Harry leaned in closer to Ginny, allowing their shoulders to touch, as writing appeared on the stone. Ginny let a part of her consciousness appreciate the fact the Harry seemed to lose his fear of proximity around her, but the rest was focused on the glistening words as they appeared to scratch themselves into the stone's surface.

'Ginny, it's Bill.' Ginny stared at the stone suspiciously. Bill? What in Merlin's name?

'Ginny, write an answer on the stone.' Ginny continued to pause, deliberating. Harry tilted his eyes to hers.

"What is wrong? Is Bill bad? Does he hurt you?" Harry said as he tilted his head to peer into her suspicious eyes.

Ginny shook her head. "No, Bill is my oldest brother. But, I'm not sure who is really writing as Bill..." Ginny's eyes became suddenly hard. "I do not trust things that can think for themselves when I can not see where they keep their heads." She paused, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Harry? Do you think you could Apparate us back. When we are ready?"

"Yes. But..."

Ginny cut him off. "Okay. I'm going to use the wand now, Harry. Fair warning..."

As Ginny pulled out the stick and began scrawling in small writing on the stone, Harry felt a strange tingling deep beneath the base of his sternum. She had done it without even thinking about it, but simply warning him that she was going to take out her wand and do magic made all the difference in the world. If someone was going to use magic against him, they certainly were not going to warn him first. Even in this moment when her actions seemed to be laced with urgency, she took the time to make sure he felt... unthreatened. Who was this creature?

"There," she said, admiring the words on the stone. "I think that's safe." Harry turned his head away from her captivating face and to the stone in her hand.

'If this is my family: Yes, I am safe. To keep safe, I will not tell you where I am.'

Ginny tapped the stone once and the words disappeared as if being absorbed by the stone.

'What? Why not?' appeared quickly after.

'In case you are not my family.'

***

Bill sighed heavily, feeling tempted to toss the stone across the room. But there was no way he could have accomplished that without hurting anyone as they were all practically on top of him anxiously reading the words.

"We have to convince her," Percy said adamantly. Then the room was again abuzz with everyone talking and no one to listening. They all tried to find a way to convince her that they were in fact her family.

Charlie just kept shaking his head. "There's no way to convince her with one sentence arguments through that stone. Why does she have to be so stubborn?"

"Actually, I think she's acting quite smart. She's a clever witch," Dumbledore said suddenly. "She's right to question the object so conveniently placed in her pocket. Plus she has good reason to not trust bewitched objects..."

"I know," Charlie sighed sadly, plopping back down on the couch.

Mr. Weasley walked up to Bill and gently took the stone. And then he scrawled one simple line.

'Come back to us soon.'

* * *

Ginny smiled through the tears in her eyes. As much as she hoped it was really her family, she couldn't risk it. Hope, she had learned, as powerful as it could be, was damaging if not coupled with extreme common sense and caution. She cast a shielding charm around the object, a precaution that she had learned after her struggle with the diary. The shield helped contain its magic, severely diminishing its effects.

"Harry, we should go back," Ginny said wearily.

"What?" he asked her in genuine confusion. "But that man, he used magic against me. I can not bring you back to where he is. It is not safe."

Ginny regarded him seriously a moment. He seemed adamant.

"That man, Harry," she said while glancing around furtively, "is Dumbledore. And he is really a good man and an amazing wizard. He was just trying to stop you from hurting yourself."

"He took away my control...You are saying he was trying to stop my punishment? Usually when someone uses magic to freeze me like that..."

Ginny stopped and turned to face Harry, searching his distant expression for answers.

"What? Usually what?"

He looked up to meet her eyes and for one instant the pain and the fear was so poignant that Ginny felt it firsthand.

"Harry?" she asked gently.

The moment was over and the shades were pulled down over his eyes again. The silence between them grew.

"Come on, Harry, let's talk and walk. We shouldn't stand here in the middle of this town. You are not really even wearing clothes!"

"Of course I'm not." This time the confusion was all on Ginny, yet she couldn't help but feel her outrageous hypothesis was becoming more and more likely.

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked. When he failed to respond Ginny pressed further. "Harry, do you know what house elves are?"

"The elf servants? Of course," Harry responded.

"It's just—you act as if..." Ginny struggled to formulate the question; it seemed so absurd, so unlikely... "Your actions...they're so much like a house elf. Even your Apparation..."

"Well, the others taught me." Suddenly he looked worried. "I-I just... in order to please our masters I needed magic in order to work fast enough and fulfill their wishes." His voice was pleading as if he was worried that she was upset with him.

"No, Harry, it's not that. It's the hurting yourself and the aversion to clothes." His face only grew more puzzled.

"I may not be an elf, but I am still a slave," he said, unsure as to why this required an explanation.

Ginny shook her head, trying to understand what he was saying. "But how is it you act like a house-elf? How did that happen?"

"The same way it always does," he answered slowly.

"What? The same way what always does?" she asked.

"Well, the making of a slave."

"What? Harry, we won't be able to understand how to help you and get rid of whatever Dark magic is making you act like a house-elf."

"House-elves? Elves are not born slaves. They are made. As was I."

Ginny did not know how to take this. His worldview was so skewed. He acted as if she was the one who did not understand.

The road had narrowed as they left the main part of the town, but now it was widening again into some sort of town square.

"Harry..." she started.

"I like it when you call me 'Harry,'" he said suddenly, seemingly surprised that the words had escaped his mouth.

She smiled at him. "I can't imagine what you've experienced and how confused you must feel, but I can promise you that everyone in the Burrow only wants to help you. They are good people who can show you that kindness is not as rare as you think. Together we can figure this all out."

"You want to go back." There was no question in his tone.

"I want you to be ready to go back. I want to help you, just like you helped me."

Their wandering brought them to center of the square. The large trees created the perimeter with encroaching branches cloaking them; the statue before them was in shadows. Ginny squinted into the distance. Beyond the statue, far off, was a house. In the obscuring darkness it looked... deformed. She was trying to make sense of its outline when Harry suddenly pulled her back from the monument. She found herself pulled flush against him with his heaving breath warm in her ear. His alertness brought her attention to the statue before her. It was shifting. Where once stood immortalized soldiers was now a small family.

Ginny couldn't help the tears that welled as realization dawned. A mother and father both encompassing a small child. At their feet was a simple golden plaque.

To the Potters: Who Showed Us How to Take a Stand

"Harry, it's okay," Ginny said needlessly as she felt him relax his grip on her. She turned to see him analyzing the statue before him.

"Potters?" he asked, tilting his head toward her while still keeping his eyes glued to the statue. There was something about the likenesses that drew him in. Suddenly a flash of green overtook his vision. A woman's disembodied scream filled his ears. He shook his head trying to clear his confusion and redoubled his efforts to focus on this statue.

A gentle hand on his shoulder made him jump out of his skin. "Yes, this is a statue of your parents, and that baby is you."

"Parents." He sounded so confused again. "I-I guess I never really thought...I mean part of me knew I must have had parents... but I never really considered their existence." Ginny watched and intuitively kept quiet and let him work out his confusion aloud. "I mean, I knew I was different from the others... but I did not imagine there were people who..." He stared broodingly up at the faces of the statue.

"People who loved you. People who did everything they could to keep you safe."

"Why was it so hard?" he asked finally, turning to look at her. "Why was keeping me safe so difficult? Why is there a statue here of them? Why did you and your family know who I was when even I didn't?"

Ginny gently led him to the stone ledge that surrounded the statue and sat beside him. She couldn't help but worry that he needed sleep and a blood replenishing potion before he took in any more. But she couldn't imagine anyone being able to sleep with such questions engulfing their consciousness.

"There is a reason why your parents were killed. It's the same reason my family and the whole wizarding world would know how to recognize you. It's also probably the reason those horrible people treated you as they did in that mansion."

She had his attention now. And there, in the deserted square of his childhood hometown, cloaked in a nocturnal black, Ginny explained with painstaking kindness the horrors of his parents' death. She told him all she knew. How Voldemort wanted him dead and of his parents' efforts to hide him, and most importantly how Voldemort had failed to kill him and hadn't been heard of since. She also explained to him that the Malfoys had claimed innocence and how their wealth had helped them establish an honorable reputation around the Ministry.

"But my family. We've never trusted them. Dad raids their house for Dark objects all the time. He's always suspected the Malfoys weren't as reformed as they claimed to be."

Thinking of all the things he had seen the Malfoys do to her, as well as to himself over the years, he couldn't help but nod. He regretted the action almost immediately as he felt the independence he had been slowly gaining slip out of his tenuous grasp. He suddenly leaned out of Ginny's gentle hold on his hand and brought his elbow down on the cement behind him with a resounding crack. He then proceeded to drag his bare skin against the cement ledge.

"No!" Ginny cried in alarm. She jumped up immediately. His blood seeped out of the newly formed wounds and diffused quickly over the foot of the statue depicting his parents. The splash of color was alarmingly stark in contrast to the black and white the darkness had rendered their surroundings.

Unthinkingly, Ginny pounced on top of him. She reached forward and grabbed his shoulders, pulling him up off his elbows. He fought at first, but then suddenly allowed her to pull him up closer to him. Their faces were a parchment width apart. His eyes fervently scanned her face. His breath came in short frequent puffs, warm on her face.

"Th-thank you." She smiled slightly at the sincerity in his tone.

"Why do you do that?" she asked more to herself than to him, her tone filled only with confusion and concern. She reached carefully for his arm, lifting the newly formed scratches to eye level. She blew lightly on the cuts and at his sigh she looked back up into his eyes.

"That makes it feel better... I do not choose to do this," he said, gesturing to his cut up arm. "I cannot disobey. I have never been able to go against them. Never before..."

"Before?"

"Before you," he replied without hesitation, but this fact was as confusing to him as it was readily apparent. Suddenly he buried his head in his hands and she heard his teeth lock closed with a snap. "I need to be punished. I have to return. I do not deserve..."

"Harry!"

He was curled up now, his knees tight to his chest. Ginny leaned in closer, placing her hands on his knees. "No," she said softly. "You don't need to be punished and you can't go back."

"You do not understand. I am not like you. I do not deserve to even be near you. I spoke poorly of my masters, I am losing my ability to fight their commands." Each sentence spilled out in a short stacato. They seemed disjointed as if each thought was fighting to be released, or perhaps each thought was struggling to stay concealed.

"Harry, you are done. You are not going back," Ginny said urgently, throwing caution to the wind and framing his face with her hands. "It is time for your life to change completely. It is time that everything gets better. You have to keep fighting it."

His eyes locked hers again. He wondered if the years spent avoiding eye contact were the fuel to his new desperate drive to keep searching out hers. She meant it. Somehow he knew. She alone was truthful. He felt himself nod. Her resulting smile, albeit a watery one, only seemed to catalyze the growth of his fighting strength.

"I would love to believe you."

"Than do," Ginny said pointedly. "I'm right. I usually am, just ask my brothers."

Harry chuckled, in no way doubting that she had her brothers' devotion to her. But her influence over them was out of love, he realized, and not fear. Some of the things in her world were starting to make sense to him, like a long forgotten dream.

She looked at him in surprise. His laugh was low and short-lived but it was a laugh. "See, you're getting better already."

Spoke too soon, was the first thought Ginny registered as Harry's whole body began trembling. His fingers were digging into his scalp as if he was trying to contain himself. Shock rippled through Ginny though she didn't know how anything surprised her anymore.

"They are summoning me," Harry said through clenched teeth. "It is not just a command. They are pulling," he finished reluctantly. It was as if there were two opposing forces in his body. His head was forcing its way up, while his hands were pushing it back down. He moved to stand, but half of his body fought the movement and as a result he fell tumbling to the ground.

"NO!" he ground out as he thrashed against the ground and hit his head against the ungiving concrete more than once. This broke Ginny from her static stance. She rushed to him in his prone state and in a panic clambered on top of him. She used her elbows to restrain his shoulders, reaching her hands out to brace his head. The movement brought their heads close together and caused her hair to fall like curtains on either side of their faces.

Harry's face was contorted in pain. "It's all of them," he said, staring in panic up at Ginny's concerned face. "They are all working together." He started shaking his head back and forth, tears were seeping out of his eyes and rolling into his ears and hairline. A groan of pain rippled through his whole body that even Ginny felt. "I can't... I can't keep fighting. You have to... Get. Away. From. Me!"

"No, Harry, you've gotten this far. You can fight them. You already are." Her hands moved consolingly over his face, brushing his long hair back. "Harry... I trust you. You can do this. You won't bring me back to that horrible place."

His tortured expression froze for a second. "I can only fight this for so long..."

Desperate to end his sufferings, Ginny wracked her brains for a solution. She heard commotion in the town and found herself shocked to notice it was no longer as dark as it had been when they first arrived. They had to get out of here.

"Could you get us back to the Burrow safely? If we could get back there, we can get you help. I think we may need to put you in a forced sleep so you can recover and have the strength to keep fighting." He started shaking his head, though it was still encased by her arms. "Harry, look at me. I promise to only do things that will help you. I will never hurt you." He reached his hands up to grab her wrists. For a moment she was worried he was going to tear her hands off his face, but his touch was feather light, so soft that if she closed her eyes she might think she were imagining it. His hands gently encircled her wrists, using his sense of touch to reassure himself that she was in fact real and not some desperate invention of his subconscious.

"I think I can get us back." He breathed deeply. "I... just... need... a... minute, to collect my strength. I will not be strong after this. It may sap my energy. I may succumb to them."

"You get us back. And I'll keep you safe." He breathed in deeply and exhaled with forced slowness.

"Okay. Ready?"

She had not even finished nodding when suddenly she fell onto the floor of the Burrow's living room. She found herself in the same position in which she left Godric's Hollow with Harry still locked beneath her, now trembling violently.

"They... stronger... can't..."

Ginny whipped her hand into her back pocket and yanked out her wand.

"Quick! The spell for inactive sleep!" she shouted. Her family was in stunned silence and annoyingly inert. Harry raised his fingers together as if to snap them when Ginny slammed his hand down to ward off the movement. "You stay with me, Harry! What's the spell, damn it? Put him under!"

Dumbledore reacted first and silently sent Harry into the deep sleep. Ginny breathed a sigh of relief as Harry ceased fighting. She reached down once again, pushing his unruly hair off of his face and pressed the lightest of kisses to his forehead. She was still panting when she realized her current predicament: straddling a barely dressed wizard with her family, including all of her brothers, watching. Months ago she would have said that this was one of her worst nightmares, but now she had much more horrifying subject matter to fuel her nightmares.

She slowly maneuvered off of Harry and pushed herself to her feet only to stumble over to the couch. She fell faintly on to it. When was the last time she had eaten again?

Her world was getting fuzzy, her vision blurry, and the commotion and confusion all seemed nonsensical to her. She held one hand to her head and the other on the couch to keep her upright. "Safe? We're both safe?" she barely managed.

"Yes dear, you are both safe," her mother responded.

"So hungry, so tired," Ginny mumbled. But thankfully, Charlie was already returning from the kitchen with a tray of food.

"I know, luv. You need to eat something before you sleep." Her mom helped her guide the soup to her mouth and never had she ever wanted to protest less. Ginny sighed in gratitude. The ebbing adrenaline left her feeling washed clean like the shore after the tide. She was surprised at how quickly food and water improved how she felt.

"Where were you?" asked one of her brothers.

"Godric's Hollow," she said, still in amazed confusion. "I think a part of Harry may remember being safe there... He needs help. He needs blood and food and... help. He's been fighting what is compelling him, but he said 'they' were all working together to summon him, and it was stronger than any compulsion he was feeling..." From their blank faces she could tell they understood little, but she couldn't help her rambling. "We saw the statue of him and his parents...." Her voice caught. "He didn't even realize he had had parents."

"Ginny, just relax a second. Eat. Breathe," her father directed. Ginny looked up at him seeing the tears in his eyes.

"I'm so sorry I worried you," she said, looking directly at him. "Harry was really just trying to bring us somewhere safe. Dumbledore terrified him. All wandwork does, actually."

The boys began to bustle about her, happy to have something to do. They moved Harry to the couch. Bill and Charlie began brewing a blood replenishing potion. She even saw Ron head up to her room with a pile of fresh bedsheets. She finished eating, for once not irritated at her parents' hovering. By the time she put her plate aside, all had returned to the living room.

"Okay," she said, looking specifically at Dumbledore. "I know you have questions." When they continued to stare, she rolled her eyes. "Shoot."

Dumbledore cleared his throat before turning to Ginny. "Thank you, Ginny. You have shown amazing courage and strength of character. I hate to ask more of you before you can get some rest, but we need—"

"I know."

"How did you meet Harry?"

"He was a servant—well, more a slave—at Malfoy Manor. He snuck me food when he was sent to mop me up."

"Mop you up?"

"Yes, Lucius would send him to me after they were done questioning me. The questioning was... violent." Her eyes fell to the side as the memories flooded in, but she continued even when her throat constricted so tightly she didn't think she could get any more words out. She explained the questions asked of her and their plan to wear her down.

"I think they were convinced that if they just kept torturing me that they'd get answers, half of which I didn't even have. Like Voldemort's father? I don't know anything about that man. I guess that's a little reassuring. Lucius thought that Tom from the diary would have told me... but that Tom didn't even know who his father was. So I think that means I was right about the diary. Riddle was afraid to move too fast because he needed to slowly work up an interdependence between us; he couldn't take over anyone easily. That's probably why he slowed down and didn't kill anyone my first year. He was worried that he'd scare me off and I might finally cotton on and ditch the damn book. He didn't anticipate that when I went home for the summer my family would realize that something was off with me."

"Yes," Dumbledore nodded, looking at Ginny measurably. "I think that is very logical."

"The puzzle of what they are up to is easier to think about than everything else."

"Such as?"

"I don't remember being snatched, just waking up in pain in an unfamiliar place. It makes it seem like it could happen again at any moment." She nodded at the words of solace from her family, but otherwise ignored them. "And then there's Harry—what he's been through. I witnessed only the very tip of the iceberg."

"Do we know what type of dark magic he is under?" Bill asked.

Dumbledore turned to Ginny. "Has he spoken with you?"

Ginny nodded and explained her conversation with Harry about house elves. "I don't think he realizes that witches and wizards are not made into slaves regularly. He acted as if there was no real difference between him and the elves."

"Well, that can't possibly be true," Charlie interjected. "If it were, why haven't more Death Eaters done that? Why didn't Voldemort do that when he was in power?"

"Does he consider himself an elf?" Dumbledore asked softly to Ginny.

"No. He understands that he is a person... different from the others is what he kept saying. But he also thinks he is different from me and other witches and wizards..." She looked up into the faces of her family pleadingly. "I don't really know what's going on, but it seems that physically some sort of magic on him, as well as some serious emotional conditioning. He struggles a lot with the idea that he deserves more than to be treated like filth. But he wants to fight it. We have to help him. Please." Ginny turned to her parents and then to Dumbledore. "I promised him I'd help him. We have to find a way."

Dumbledore studied the young witch before him. She was such a passionate person. She cared deeply for this boy, that was for certain. She brought up painful memories of a time when he was once hopeful and energetic. Perhaps he could get that back. If the boy was emotionally conditioned to obey a Death Eater... well, she might be the only remedy.

In the silence Ginny was hit with another wave of exhaustion. "He said that house elves were made, not born. Does that help?"

"I will need to do some research. This is very old, ancient magic that is not very well understood. I also still do not understand how he was harmed with the protection he had at his relatives' home and how he was removed from the Hogwart's list if he has been alive this whole time. But of course I will look into it right away. Also, I will ward this house against all wandless appariation. Now that we know it is house elf magic, I can show you how to do that. When we wake him, he will not be able to take off again."

"Or be forced back," Ginny said quietly.

"Miss Weasley?" Dumbledore started again tentatively. "Are you absolutely certain it was Lucius Malfoy who held you captive?"

"Yes," Ginny said, looking at him confused.

"Well, many will argue that the injuries you sustained may have left you confused."

"No, it was him."

"Do you think you would be able to testify in court..." He held up his hand to stave off her quick agreement. "... with Mr. Malfoy present, and the press it will bring?"

"I can and I will do it. I just want to sleep some first."

Dumbledore smiled, though worry and stress erased any real mirth from his eyes. "Of course, let us hope we can bring Lucius to trial quickly, but it most certainly won't be tonight. Thank you, Miss Weasley. It will make a great difference."

"Enough, I think," her dad broke in. "That's enough for now, right?"

"Absolutely, more than enough."

"Good. Ginny it is time you get some rest."

Dumbledore was already delegating jobs as her parents led her upstairs to her room to sleep.

"My bed," she said in relief when they arrived at her door, smiling in anticipation. She walked wearily over to her dresser and turned on the WWN. She smiled to herself, letting the music fill her. She had missed this. She left it on and walked over to her bed and slid into the sheets. Her mother moved to tuck her in, giving the sheets extra unneeded soothing.

"We are so proud of you, Ginny. Get some rest," her mother managed to choke out.

"Thank you for coming back to us," her dad said, kissing her forehead.

And thanks to the exhaustion, she fell asleep immediately.

****