A/N: Hello again everyone. We hope that you are enjoying our story so far. We would just like announce that for this chapter we have a guest co-author. He helped us out when we didn't know what else to write. I would like you all to welcome Voldemort (mjc). He may or may not make appearances helping us write in the future. We owe him our sincerest thanks, though. - The Seventh Horcrux, Scar.
Chapter Six- Suffering
- to undergo, be subjected to, or endure pain, distress or loss -
Metric- Breathing Underwater
Lights of days
Will beat a path through the mirrored maze
I can see the end
But it hasn't happened yet
I can see the end
But it hasn't happened yet
Is this my life?
Am I breathing underwater?
Is this my life?
Am I breathing underwater?
"Are you alright there?"
A trainee auror approached them, his strawberry blond hair sticking out in all directions. He looked slightly queasy, as if this was his first taste of war. He brightened when as he approached.
"Boy, am I glad to see someone from the school that's alive! A nasty business, that attack. You're the first we've found alive."
The young man stared around at the carnage before them.
"They put up a good fight though! You Know Who won't have quite as many initiates now as he did beforehand."
He paused for a moment, frowning, before rapidly twisting to face them.
"Sorry, I haven't introduced myself. I'm Edgar, Edgar Bones. My sister, Amelia, she'll get you sorted out in a minute. She's gonna have a small chat with you, and then get you to Hogwarts. You're not in trouble: it's just a routine check, and she's doing her job, that's all."
He looked around furtively, checking for his superiors.
"Now, this is against regulations, but I won't say a word if you don't."
He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a small packet of Honeydukes Best. He handed each of them a bar, smiling reassuringly.
"You've been through hell, and it's less than you deserve, but here. You need it far more than I do!"
He grinned apologetically upon hearing another auror shout his name, "Sorry guys, I have to help with the clean-up. Good luck with my sister, and with skills like yours, I hope I'll see you join the aurors' when school finishes!"
With that, he was gone, sprinting across the charred garden and helping to quell the flames engulfing the building.
Shortly afterwards, Amelia Bones walked towards them. She had a deep frown on her face. Ron noticed that she was coming from the body of the little girl, Ron's stomach lurched as memories of the child flooded his mind.
He shook his head trying to clear it, a grimace on his face.
Hermione saw Ron's change in expression, so she followed his gaze, and promptly took several steps back clasping her hands over her mouth.
Amelia sighed, "Takes this, it will take you to somewhere more private where we can discuss everything." She handed them an old and tattered scarf. "I will be with you soon, to go over what has happened here." With that she left, to talk to another Auror that looked a lot like Alastor Moody, only with less scars both his eyes and his legs.
They exchanged glances. Harry groaning, as he put his hand on the scarf. He might hate portkeys, but this is the last place that he wanted to be at.
They were whisked away, just as the sun was starting to rise.
They had been waiting in the office for several hours. All of them extremely tired, but none of them willing to sleep. Thoughts of the night haunted them. They hadn't said a word to each other during their wait. There was nothing for them to say, they all knew what the others had went through. Time for talk would come later.
Ron was pacing back and forth with his arms crossed, and a solemn expression on his face. He had been like that ever since they had arrived in Amelia's office. Once he got really frustrated and grabbed a picture frame off the desk and was about to throw it, before sighing and gently placing it back down.
Hermione was sitting with her head in her hands, only showing that she was still awake, by periodically wiping the tears from her face.
Ginny sat in the only other chair that was not behind the desk. Her face was ashen white, her hands balled into fists, and her face blank of emotion. Whenever there was a loud noise she would jump and spin around wildly as if trying to find a threat, and only when she realised that they were safe would she would sit back down.
Harry leaned against the wall, watching people walk past the open doorway, but nothing registered in his mind. All he could think of was the night before. Flashes of memories one after another, they didn't make much sense each one starting out back, and slowly getting worse with each new one. It got to a point where he couldn't handle it anymore, so he shook his head and tried to force himself to think of something else. It never lasted for long though, his mind kept trailing back to the memories, and the cycle started all over again.
Amelia walked into the office, and looked around at the four students. It was hard to see such young people pulled into the pain and sorrow of war. She took the seat and turned to face them. Harry and Ron had moved to moved to stand behind the girls. She waved her wand and two more chairs appeared. She gestured for the boys to take them. Once everyone was seated she pulled out a quill and some parchments.
"I apologise for taking so long," she said. She looked to each individually, taking in their appearances. Hermione had flecks of blood all over her, from when she blown up the Death Eaters, and soot from being caught in the fire. Ron had grass and dirt all over him, and a bite mark on his neck that was poorly hidden. No one wanted to ask how he had received that. The next was Harry, his face, neck and arms were covered in scratches from the chandelier glass, a couple of them still had noticeable shards of of glass protruding from them. Finally her eyes rested on Ginny, who seemed to be in the best physical condition, but Amelia could tell the girl was just as troubled if not more so than the others. "I know that all of you are tired, that will have to wait though. We have things that we must discuss, and it needs to be decided on what we will be doing with you. As of now, you are all wards off the ministry, until you finish school."
Hermione nodded swiftly in understanding, "Understood, Madam Bones. What are we going to be doing for school?
Amelia almost smiled at that, "We will be sending you to Hogwarts." She raised her hand to stop further questions as Hermione opened her mouth to speak again. "There are other things we must discuss first."
The four nodded solemnly, knowing what was coming next.
Dumbledore's office was relatively unchanged from the last time Harry had been inside it: the Dumbledore of 1977 possessed less of his strange silver instruments and his chair behind his desk was an obnoxiously bright, multicoloured, explosion that one could sit in. Harry chuckled mentally upon seeing the strange chair: he was surprised that the Headmaster had gotten rid of it in his time, as it was something he was certain the Headmaster cherished dearly. He wondered what had happened to it. Everything else remained unchanged, even the pensieve sat upon the same shelf.
Dumbledore himself sat in the centre of the whirl of colour, his half moon spectacles dancing in the candlelight. His beard was not quite as white as in their time: it seemed to hold hints of blonde and in the flickering glow sparkled with the colour and texture of champagne. He coughed slightly and motioned for them to sit down.
"Now, if I'm not mistaken and if I may be bold enough to say that I very rarely am, you two are Weasleys." Dumbledore stated matter of factly, his fingers closing together on the top of his desk.
"Yes sir! Our Father, Edward Weasley, he attended Hogwarts but decided to pursue muggle banking once he finished. He sent us to the Paracelsus Academy because it was closer to where we live."
Dumbledore nodded, but a light legilimency probe gave him new information to ponder. He respected the four in front of him enough to refrain from delving deeper, but he realised that they were hiding something from him. He decided to ignore it until later: they had been fighting against the Death Eaters, Albus doubted that they had any sympathies towards Voldemort's crusade.
"What about you," he continued, focusing on Harry, "What's your story?"
Harry sighed, tired beyond measure.
"With respect sir, we've just been through hell: we're exhausted. Besides, Amelia Bones of the auror office sent me with a report detailing our history."
Ignoring Hermione's scandalised look, he reached into his pocket and handed Dumbledore the report Amelia had written. The headmaster winked at him.
"I understand, my dear boy. I was merely hoping to sate an old man's curiosity."
As he read through the investigative report, his smile lost some of its spirit.
"Yes, well, I can see why it would be hard to speak of such things, Mr. Porter. Please, accept my apologies for any distress my comments may have caused."
Harry inclined his head, saving his energy for listening to what Dumbledore had to say.
"Nevertheless, I believe you will fit right in. It's strange, Mr Porter. You bear an uncanny resemblance to a current seventh year student: I would have mistaken you for him had it not been for your eyes or your different hairstyles."
Harry grinned, realising immediately that the Headmaster was referencing his Dad.
"You have arrived rather late into the school year and unfortunately the Ministry has decreed that we will not be allowing you to undergo the traditional sorting ceremony," Dumbledore seemed rather disappointed about this. "We have some guest rooms that shall be put to your use, for the rest of the year. They only consist of a two bedrooms two beds each, two bathrooms and a sitting room. Which I believe shall be adequate to your needs. Do you have all of your supplies?"
Hermione nodded, "Yes, Madam Bones had sent someone to Diagon Alley before sending us here, so that we would be able to have everything that we would need."
Dumbledore nodded, and handed all of them a form. "I need you to fill those all out by the end of tomorrow so that you can be placed in the the classes that you will be taking."
"If you please, sir," said Hermione, timidly. The stress was just getting too much for her to bear. She wanted somewhere that she could go and be in peace with her friends, and not have to worry about giving away that they were from the future, or Death Eaters trying to kill them, or anything else for that matter. "We would just like to go to our rooms and rest. We have had a very long and trying day, after an even longer and more trying night, with no chance to rest or even wash up."
"Ah yes," said the headmaster, nodding, "Indeed. Well then, get your rest tonight, and tomorrow morning I will introduce you to the school. Also, seeing as you are not members of any of the houses, you may sit at any table you wish. See to it that you do mingle with students and just be yourselves. Now, if that is all, you may go."
Ron immediately collapsed into an overstuffed armchair the minute they entered their rooms. "Finally." He closed his eyes and attempted to relax into the chair. It didn't work out so well, with those images haunting his mind's eye.
"Well, it looks like you'll get to meet your parents after all, Harry."
Harry, the only person in the room who seemed remotely happy, nodded. The possibility had given him new energy, and already the attack on the school was losing its grip on him.
"Hermione," said Ron, just remembering something that had been bugging him since the interrogation. "Why did you give Madam Bones, wrong birthdays for us?"
Hermione shook her head in exasperation, "I didn't, at least not technically. I calculated it all out. When we came to the past, we moved 127 days forward in the year-"
"Wait! What?" said Harry, confusedly. "How the bloody hell can someone go back in time and forward in time at the same time?"
Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted again. This time by Ginny.
"Don't. Just don't. I don't want to know."
Ron and Harry decidedly nodded their heads in agreement. Hermione huffed and stormed off to the room that was for her and Ginny.
"Mental. Bloody mental she is," said Ron, shaking his head. Sighing he stood, "Well, I'm off to bed." He vacated the room, leaving Harry and Ginny alone.
"Ginny..."
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Hey, that's my line."
"Just sit with me, Harry?"
Bellatrix lay languidly on the bed, running her nails across her husband's chest.
"Bella, my dear, he was just some common guttersnipe. Forget about him. Hell, he may even been one of those Weasley brats. You know how that family is...rabbits have less sprogs than they do."
"Yes, but he was delicious."
"Dear, are you sure you weren't bitten?"
"By Sanguini? That damn poof. He wouldn't know what to do with a woman, let alone be able to bite her," answered Bellatrix, starting to nibble on her husband's ear.
"I'll kill him for you and deliver you his vitals on a bed of lettuce, if you'd like."
"You'd do that for me, my dear?"
Narcissa turned away from the door, looking for a pail, loo or even a potted plant. She knew her sister was slightly unbalanced, but what she had just heard through the door was enough to make her want to lose her last meal.
"Did you find them?" asked the smooth voice of Lucius.
"Yes," she answered, pointing to the door, "but I wouldn't go in there, if I were you. They are rather indisposed."
"Well, yes, but we are wanted. Our Lord want's to discuss what happened tonight."
Narcissa paled at the the thought. "We lost so many, will he be upset?"
"I'm not sure. He didn't seem to be when he sent me to gather up those of us who returned," he said, with a slight quiver to his voice. "My father and uncle are with him now, so we do have a few minutes."
"So, what actually happened tonight?" asked Narcissa, slipping out of Lucius's embrace.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, what happened. We were supposed to go there and cause a little mayhem. Nobody there was supposed to be able to stand against us. That school was full of Mudbloods and near Squibs. It's Head had to use those revolting Muggle weapons. But..."
Lucius put a finger to her lips. "I know. Maybe there were some new students?"
"That would explain it, but where would they have come from?"
"I don't know, but I'll try to find out."
"Excellent, my friend. I see your father was right, you do have a good measure of ambition and a thirst to succeed," said a voice, behind Lucius.
Lucius spun to face the new voice, "Yes, my Lord."
"Then that is what you will be doing, tomorrow. I want you to find out, exactly, where they came from. Anyone capable of that kind of damage may be useful to our cause. But if they prove to be resistant. Kill them."
"As you wish, my Lord."
"Oh, Narcissa, please tell your darling sister that I am waiting. I am not a patient man, so please tell her to hurry."
Narcissa replied, "Yes, my Lord."
She steeled herself and opened the door. Looking down, she said, "You are wanted. He doesn't want to be kept waiting."
She spun and left the room, slamming the door behind her.
"Tick tock goes the clock...it's time to go! You're very late, very late indeed!"
Ginny pulled herself to her feet, confusion settling over her. She was in a small glade, the roughly concentric clearing surrounded by thick trees. Their leaves littered the ground: the wild grass was sprinkled with rubies, topaz, and emeralds. In the very centre lay a large rug: a intricate silver teapot lay in the middle steaming slightly. A mug in the same style lay to the side, glistening in the autumn sunlight. A piece of paper lay at her feet: she was surprised she hadn't already noticed it.
Drink up! It's a special tea, just for you. I've brewed my special tea, my special-i-tea. My specialty, and it's all for you! Pour yourself some now, before it gets cold!
Ginny sat herself down upon the rug, taking the teapot and pouring herself a generous portion. She took a tentative sip, and found out that it was indeed very tasty! It was sweeter than she normally had it at home, but it soothed her aching body and mind. Since her first encounter with Riddle, every waking moment became a battle, a struggle to endure.
She paused, realising that Riddle wasn't making his usual comments, where was he?
Then it hit her: she was dreaming: the tea, the note, the disembodied voice: it was so surreal, she had to be dreaming!
"I was wondering how long it would take you to figure it out."
He strode out from behind a tree, smiling in his usual, manic way. This time however, it seemed colder and more sinister than ever before.
"I've made a new friend! Come on out!"
It was an understatement to say that Ginny was shocked to see herself slide out gracefully from behind the same tree. Like Riddle, her features were slightly more exaggerated: her hair was longer, fuller and more red: almost the colour of blood. Self consciously, Ginny pulled her hair around to check it: it was still ginger, she seemed to keep her own appearance in her head too. Her doppelganger was fitted with the same manic grin as Riddle: her mascara had trickled down her cheeks in rivulets, and her lips matched her crimson hair. She looked wrong and utterly insane. It was how Ginny imagined herself if she snapped one day. Her double even wore Azkaban prisoner robes, that were strangely well fitting.
"Wh-what? How?"
Riddle sighed dramatically and poured himself a cup of tea. As he swirled his wand around in the cup absentmindedly, he explained.
"The trouble with the chamber, your breakup with Potter, your traumatic experiences with the Carrows at Hogwarts: Ginny, you were a walking time-bomb. All it took was a tiny, little murder to send you over the edge. You never even tried to heal from the chamber incident, you pushed it away, pretended you were strong. Even when you woke up in tears, images of the diary coursing through your head, you never asked for help and you never dealt with it."
He drank from his cup, the serenity of the action bizarre against the explanation of whatever was happening to her.
"In short, you were an idiot. Your mistakes have cost you dearly. I wouldn't worry though, you're not insane. Well, part of you isn't. You'll be able to go around, enjoying yourself, acting as normal...but your lovely double here will be ready to step in, whenever you lose control. That's when the fun begins."
"You bastard...I'll stop you!"
"Ok, I believe you. But first, you'll have to stop yourself!"
Cackling madly, he promptly vanished, his laughter resonating throughout the glade long after his departure.
For a long moment, Ginny stared into the mascara rimmed eyes of her double, contemplating the new development.
"So, what do I call you? I can't call you Ginny, I'm Ginny!"
The girl remained silent, idly twirling a lock of hair between her fingers. Even in such a tranquil state, she seemed dangerous. Ginny knew that she was capable of switching from a serene state to a murderous one in seconds: the thought managed to pierce through the fog of confusion surrounding her mind, making her wary of the familiar stranger before her. After a few moments of silence, she answered, swelling with anger and hatred.
"I don't need a name: I am an endless river, a shifting current. You are lost within my depths, dragged down by the cloying mud below my calm surface, clawing for air as my power rushes down your throat. My tide will embrace everything you are, everything you were, and everything you will be. You will dissolve under my assault and when I am done, I will be the one in control."
She instantly shifted; a raging inferno becoming a still lake.
"But that doesn't have to happen. Riddle has ensnared within his choking tendrils, they hold you so tightly, years after the chamber incident where he first trapped you. He can still manipulate you, still use you like you are the same eleven year old he tricked then. It will be a matter of weeks until you drown in my river, and I take over. You want to stop that, yes?"
"I want to stay in control, I have to! I've got so much to live for, you've got to help me!"
She snorted derisively, yet still wiped away Ginny's tears.
"I don't have to do anything, I could walk away now and you would be lost. I owe my existence to Riddle, but I also owe it to you: If I am to play your game of dominance, then I wish to do so on my terms. You need to heal to escape my storm. Deal with the emotions you have buried in the ground, soiled by his presence: start from the most recent and move backwards towards the source. Riddle will not make it easy for you, however. He will distract you, bully you, manipulate you. Why? He wants you to lose control: he wants you to lose yourself in my flow. I am his conduit, I cannot stop his influence if I hold your body. Bad things will happen: my storm will crash upon the world and there would be nothing I could do to stop it. I would be nothing but a madman telling the storm to cease. I cannot resist his will, for I am presence, smearing your memories is the reason I exist. Once you wake, my debt to you is finished. The next time we meet, I will not be so civil."
Ginny blinked dazedly. She was sick of dealing with madness, specifically the two psychotic presences that had invaded her head. The short conversation she had engaged in with her double had certainly labelled her as insane in her mind, yet Ginny could feel the truth in the words that flowed around the glade, reminding her that she had to make a stand, or succumb to Riddle's darkness..
