This chapter is brought to you by: Procrastination!! Yes, the author IS in fact avoiding studying for this week's worth of mid-term exams, because really—what's more important than Harry Potter fanfiction?

Chapter Three: Burning Hope

With her mouth downturned and her shoulders hunched over due to the crushing weight of her book bag, Ginny rushed off to her first Dark Arts class, her heart pounding furiously in her throat. How could she possibly know what to expect from Amycus Carrow? As far as she could tell, the man was a brutish moron, delighted by the immense sway he held over Hogwarts and all her inhabitants. You-Know-Who had pretty much given him and his pig of a sister the power to do whatever they wished, and the mere thought frightened Ginny.

She slipped past a group of huddled Ravenclaws into the classroom, which was frigid and dank. Ginny fought the shuddering sensation, trying not to flee. She was overcome with the feeling that she was stepping into a torture chamber, unwittingly sealing her fate. Shaking it off, she swept the room with her eyes, seeking a spot that was as far away from Amycus Carrow as she could get and next to somebody who didn't think that Severus Snape was the best thing that had ever happened to Hogwarts.

Luckily, there was a spot in the very back of the room, next to a girl with waist-length, pale blonde hair, who Ginny immediately recognized as Luna Lovegood. She made a bee-line for the chair, even though nobody was jumping to sit next to the oddity, who was quietly scribbling in a notebook.

"Hello Luna," Ginny said pleasantly, pleased to have at least one old DA member in the class. "Thank Merlin you're here." She threw herself down in the chair, relieved.

Luna looked up, her wide eyes giving off the impression that Ginny woke her out of a dreamy trance. "Oh─ hello Ginny," she smiled faintly, but then bit down on her lower lip, looking worried. "I didn't see Harry, Ron, or Hermione," she leaned in close, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Are they in hiding? Do you know if they are alright?"

Ginny's stomach dropped a little. "I don't know much," she said softly, her face anguished. "But they've all left. A lot of people are gone," she said flatly, twisting her fingers in her lap.

Luna was observing her carefully, and the moment Ginny realized this, she dropped her hands. "Ginny—" Luna started, hesitant, but at that moment, the door slammed closed, making Ginny flinch violently.

Amycus Carrow strutted into the room, his sloped shoulders giving him the appearance and posture of a gorilla.

"Shuddup, will you? Bunch of twits…" he growled, and flung the book he was holding down on his desk. The class watched him silently, waiting…

"They got me this idiot book, but I don't think we'd get tha' much use outta it, honestly." He smirked around at the class. "Nobody ever got much use outta books like it, I reckon. Defense Against the Dark Arts… Ugh," he scoffed. The class watched him warily.

Abruptly, he stood. "Y'know, you lot haven't learned much at all, I reckon. Counter curses, them magical critters…Merlin knows—nothing at all! The only real useful thing you lot have learned at all was the Unforgivables! Not so unforgivable in the Dark Lord's book, though!" He giggled. "We should go over those again," he decided, his stubby fingers snatching his wand up from his desk. Immediately, the class nervously cowered, but he gave no notice.

"Somebody tell me what they are," he demanded, pointing his wand around at the class. Nobody spoke; everybody was terrified and nervously eyeing his wand.

After a few moments, when Carrow realized that nobody was going to say anything, he slammed his fist down on his desk. "You lot better say something, or I'll have to show you what the Unforgivables are!" he threatened, his pig-like face becoming pinched

"A—Avada Kedavra, Crucio, and the Imperious Curse," a tall Ravenclaw boy called, his voice nervous.

Carrow grinned malevolently. "Veerry good…Tha' wasn't so damn hard, was it!" He shouted at the rest of the class, who stared anxiously at him. His insane mood-swings left everybody on edge, and for the next twenty minutes, Carrow spat questions about various dark spells and curses, fondly recalling stories about the most gruesome incidents he could remember. Ginny sat in the back, furiously plotting ways to disrupt and overthrow the tyrannical death eaters that were terrorizing the student population. Fred and George, they would help. Maybe if she owled them, they could help her distribute Skiving Snackboxes, and they could pull off 'Carrow-itis' as well as they had 'Umbridge-itis". She listened to him ranting about how Barty Crouch was the best teacher he thought they had ever had, and felt nauseated. Who needed Snackboxes when just listening to this madman made you sick?

"—tha' idiot Dumbly-dore, he was a fool. You little brats just wait, the Dark Lord will teach you all a lesson, even if you'll not listen to me—And you!" He screeched, pointing his wand dead-center at Ginny, who jumped, hardly believing that he was addressing her at all.

"Yes…?" she said icily, drawing her spine up rigidly. The simmering fury was bubbling in her stomach, threatening to rise and overwhelm her.

"Don't take that tone with me, missy! Yer just a nasty ole' blood traitor! Why'd ya even bother coming back here, you're no much better than bloody Dumbly-dore!"

Something snapped. She couldn't take this, this miserable, blithering fool and his maniacal reign over her and the few friends she had left. "And you—" she hissed, slamming down her books on the desk, "You should go back to Azkaban where you belong!"

The entire classroom fell into a frozen hush. Beside her, Ginny saw Luna's jaw drop in amazement.

Amycus Carrow just stared, surveying her calmly. With every passing moment, Ginny's anger rose, and she grappled with it, trying to control the flow. Her heart pounded in her temples, drowning all rational thought. When it suddenly seemed too much, like she would burst from indignation, he dropped his eyes, picking up the discarded Defense Against the Dark Arts book from a haphazard stack of papers.

"Before the end of the year…" he turned the book carefully between his stubby fingers, eyes averted. "…You, Weasley, will definitely find out what happens to those who can't shut their traps!"

With his last three words, Carrow hurled the book at her. Ginny's lightening-fast chaser reflexes forced her to duck, the book barely missing the top of her head. It hit the wall behind her, sending a framed picture of a dementor crashing to the floor. The glass within the frame shattered, shards clattering across the stone floor.

Just as the glass had shattered, the violence broke the mounting tension within the room. Carrow shrugged, and dropped into his chair, as if he were tired from such a daunting task as to teach such belligerent students.

"You just wait 'till Alecto's class, Weasley. She'll take care of you. The rest of you, dismissed."

The sixth-years practically sprinted for the exit.

"—Can't believe he'd actually do that! What a git. We'll sort him out, Gin…" Neville was babbling next to her, trying to complete an astronomy chart as he finished his lunch. Luckily, he wasn't so much as talking to Ginny as he was talking at her. Which left her to muse angrily about what she could possibly do to make up for being physically attacked in the middle of her very first Dark Arts class. Carrow was a brute—he wouldn't be hard to wreck her furious revenge on. He was just a fool, a pawn of Snape and You-Know-Who, whose only purpose in life was to be a mindless slave to the dark side…

"It's a good idea, no?" Neville chirped beside her, suddenly cheerful.

"Um… yes." Ginny blurted, not knowing what in Merlin's name he was talking about. "What were the details of this—er, plan?" She tried to cover, backtracking wildly.

Across the Great Hall, Ginny spotted a platinum blonde twit get up hurriedly from the Slytherin table. "Malfoy," she hissed under her breath. Blaise Zabini got up as well, calling, "Hold up—wait! Draco!" but Malfoy brushed him off, nearly running out of the hall.

"What was that, Gin?" Neville asked, curious, looking around to see what she was glaring at. Ginny jerked her eyes away, and grabbed her bag hastily.

"Yeah, you'll have to tell me later, okay? I've got to go—erm… study…"

Her curiousity piqued, she strode out of the Great Hall, looking around. He seemed to have vanished, and Ginny huffed in frustration. She didn't know why, but there was something in the back of her mind that wanted to follow him, find him… and somehow prevent him from ruining more lives, tormenting more first-years, or murdering the defenseless…

A gleam of blonde caught her eye, and Ginny gazed upwards into the network of ever-revolving staircases. Somehow, Malfoy had already ascended two flights of stairs, and Ginny dashed after him. Not wanting him to see her, Ginny slunk through the shadows, trying to stay close to the walls and out of sight. He turned suddenly into a passageway behind a tapestry, and Ginny crept behind him, silent as a cat. The hidden corridor was pitch-dark, but she could hear footsteps ahead, slowly getting fainter and farther away. In her haste, she didn't wait for her eyes to adjust, and felt along the walls, creeping slowly. What could Malfoy possibly be up to? The burning curiosity enflamed her, driving her on. Suddenly, she felt the corridor twist and incline, her legs beginning to ache. She could no longer hear his expensive shoes clicking ahead of her, and her hopes fell down into her stomach, swallowed by the simmering anger.

Her pace slowed, allowing Ginny the breath to sulk. And then, the gloomy stairwell was at an end, and through the darkness, Ginny could see a plain, oaken door. Her stomach fluttering, she grasped the heavy, brass doorknob, twisting it open and slowly edging the door ajar. She peered through the crack between the door and the doorframe, and her heart leaped. Malfoy was there, pacing back and forth in front of a familiar stretch of blank wall.

This was the 7th floor corridor, which Ginny immediately recognized from a year's worth of DA meetings. The Room of Requirement… What was he doing? Returning to the scene to gloat of his triumph over the DA, likely, Ginny thought acidly. Malfoy came to a jilted halt in front of the wall, and a glossy chestnut door blossomed and expanded to human proportions, gleaming where no door had been a moment ago. Malfoy cast a wary eye, and Ginny pulled back on the door, narrowing the sliver through which she watched him. He was completely oblivious to her piercing gaze, and slipped through the door, which vanished, shrinking back into the blank wall that it was before.

The opportunity presented itself like a shining beaker of Liquid Euphoria. This chance to spy upon her enemy, possibly catch him doing something illegal, overwhelmed Ginny's small frame. She propelled herself eagerly into the corridor, and began pacing rapidly near the wall. She screwed up her eyes in concentration, wishing feverously to get inside the Room…

Let me inside… I need to see what Malfoy is doing in there… Let me in… Let me in… Please, let me in…

On her third round, Ginny snapped her eyes open, expecting to see the same glossy chestnut door. But she was sorely disappointed, for the wall remained impassive, as if it was mocking her, pretending it had no idea what she wanted. In anger, she smacked the wall with her open palm, and said aloud, "Damnit! Didn't you hear, I want in!"

Her palm tingled, and the door remained hidden.

So try again, Ginny consoled herself. There must be some mythical combination of asking, begging, and pleading that the Room would acknowledge, letting her in so she could follow the uncontrollable curiosity she couldn't quell.

But a full half-hour later, Ginny still hadn't accessed the Room. It was more stubborn than she was! Uncertainty began to plague her. If she hadn't seen Malfoy enter through the door with her own eyes, she almost wouldn't believe there was a room there at all.

An excruciating headache was gripping her head, as if a giant was squeezing her brain. Exhausted and frustrated, Ginny slid down against the opposite wall, cradling her head in her hands. This one was fast becoming a migraine, and Ginny didn't have any more pain-relief potion left…

She tried to mentally escape, tried to erase the shadowy, stubborn wall from her mind's eye… Instead, she called up an image of her room at the Burrow, cozy and warm. Her tiny bed, which was so soft, but short—she had to curl up her legs so that they wouldn't hang off the edge. And the snow falling gently against her windowpanes, nothing more than a pretty picture of Christmas break.

Her head was so heavy, and the knots in the back of her neck slowly began to unravel. For a stone floor, it suddenly felt nice and cool…

"Ginny…." A warm, male voice echoed. "Ginny…" it said again, wanting something.

"MmHmm?" she mumbled, suddenly comforted. It was Harry's voice, deep and sure. And like always, tinged with worry. Although, it was usually worry for her, she thought, and her lips twitched into a smile.

"Weasley." Ginny frowned. Harry didn't call her that.

"Weasley!" She was wrong. The voice wasn't Harry's at all; it was deep and cold, like the lake in January.

Suddenly, she was struck by the image of Harry, falling into the frozen lake. She reached out to grab him, but he was too far, too unbalanced. His eyes were wide with panic and fear, and he hit the icy water, plummeting down…and from the grey depths of the lake, a great tentacle reached up, wrapped around his midsection, and jerked him down, down to depths where Ginny couldn't see him at all.

"Harry!" she shouted, suddenly gasping for air as if she was the one being dragged down into the lake.

"No, not Harry," a deep voice mocked her.

Draco Malfoy was standing above her, his lip curled. "Stop following me, Weaselette," he drawled, glaring down at her. "It's getting annoying."

She scrambled to her feet, backing against the wall. "What were you doing in there?" she demanded, trying to back away, for he was so close it made her nervous.

"That's not any of your business, Weaselette" he spat, stepping forward. "And you should probably remember that next time you… fall asleep on the job," he smirked, and Ginny felt her face flame.

She took a step forward, squaring her shoulders. "Actually, I think it's everybody's business that you're not bringing the likes of Fenir Greyback into Hogwarts!"

His eyes darkened, the smirk slipping from his face, and he drew himself up to full height, towering over her. Ginny stood her ground. "Don't talk about things you know nothing about," he hissed, and immediately, her vision went a hazy red.

"Nothing!" she shrieked, her voice piercing. "Thanks to you, my brother was mauled! Thanks to you, Dumbledore is dead!"

The gravity of her words sucked the world in. There was nothing there but him and her and she'd be damned if she didn't vent some of this boiling anger on the arrogant bastard.

Malfoy's eyes were cold, and suddenly distant. For a fleeting moment, Ginny felt a flash of triumph. But then he shook his head, and snarled, "Better him than me!"

The pure arrogance left Ginny speechless, and seeing that she had nothing, no cutting retort, he spun on his heel, strode purposefully down the corridor, and disappeared behind a brightly-colored, medieval tapestry.

Ginny realized that her mouth hung open, and she closed it with a snap, grinding her teeth together. Infuriated, she stomped off in the opposite direction, her headache returning with a vengeance.

She sighed, tired from today's turn of events, and changed course, heading for the hospital wing. Maybe if she was lucky, she could skip most of Carrow's muggle studies class… the thought brightened her up a bit, and she ran off, hopeful again.

Thanks so much to everybody that reviewed!! I hope everybody has a fantastic Christmas break, because I know I will! I can't wait to read Beetle and the Bard all Christmas afternoon…

Much love,

luckyluckylucky