Oh. My. Goodness. So I was informed yesterday that this fanfiction has been nominated for the Energize W.I.P (writing in process) award in the Harry Potter category! I can't believe it! I won't lie, I got teary when I found out. As all of you know, this is my first fanfic and I never thought I'd be nominated for something. All I ever want to do is write for you guys and share a story. So thank you, so, so much, for your reviews, follows, favorites, everything! All of you are fantastic! And to whomever nominated me... You should drop me a line. I'd love to thank you personally!
Voting is November 13th through the 20th… I wouldn't be lying if I said I would appreciate a vote, but I suggest you check out the five other nominees as well! There are some very great reads there! :) If you decide to vote, all I ask is that it's which one you like! If that be mine, then that's fantastic, but if it's somebody else's, that's just as good! :) If you feel up to voting, the link will be on my profile! Thank you so much!

Anyway… I told you I wouldn't keep you waiting. :) I hope you like this chapter. Again, thank you so, so much. And as always, please review! I love hearing what you guys think!

On with the show!

I do not own Harry Potter!

14

Anger. It hit Harry hard in his chest and between his eyes, a hot, tingling feeling, spreading all the way to the tips of his ears and the edges of his toes. He clenched his jaw, eyes dangerous, wand still pressed firmly against Smeckett's face. He fought the roar that came to his throat, the worry that clawed his belly. Ginny. His hand shot out of its own accord, gripping the edge of Smeckett's robes with an iron fist. He stared him down, intently looking into the dark, horrible eyes. "You had better start explaining."

Smeckett merely grinned at him, mouth still bloody, his eyes devoid of any emotion except for triumph.

The mocking smile, it pushed him over the edge. With a roar, Harry slammed Smeckett against the floor, taking satisfaction from the resounding crack of his head against stone.

"Harry, no!" Kingsley shouted, striding forward, pulling him away from Smeckett. "We're wasting time."

Harry was so angry he couldn't see. His wand shot red sparks, catching the edge of Smeckett's robes on fire. Kingsley stomped them out impatiently, still holding Harry's arm. With a murmur, he conjured ropes and bound Smeckett, who was still conscious, just with blood now sliding down the back of his head, still with that horrible, mocking grin. Smeckett raised above the floor, levitating upside down, his greasy hair dangling into the dirt. Blood dripped steadily.

Harry resisted the urge to kick out his foot. Ginny. Panic quickly replaced worry. He turned tortured eyes to Kingsley. "We need to find her. Please, Kingsley."

"We will, Harry," Kingsley promised, starting towards the door. "But we need to move now. There isn't much time."

"No time," croaked Smeckett, "You're too late."

Red sparks again shot from Harry's wand and he clenched his fist around it, hurrying after Kingsley. Smeckett wasn't facing him, though Harry was sure the villain would be giving him a twisted smile.

Kingsley hastened up the spiral stairs, bursting open the door to the bookstore. A handful of Aurors were there, buzzing around. Hestia moved quickly to Harry's side, examining his eyes for signs of inner trauma. "You might have a concussion, Harry."

"I don't care," Harry hissed, "I've faced worse. We need to find Ginny."

The room had gone silent. Harry looked around at everybody. "Why are you lot standing around? We have a lead, right?"

"There's… Nothing," Hestia admitted quietly.

Harry stared in disbelief, but then jerked his head, striding through the entire group of them in stone silence, his back straight. "Well, I don't care. I'm going to find her. Whether all of you want to help me is up to you."

Kingsley turned Smeckett over into the custody of the Aurors and followed Harry into the street. "Harry, hold on! I need to—"

"You don't need to do anything," Harry spat, striding up the street, gripping his wand, ready to Disapparate.

"It was Osburn all along, Harry."

"I know," Harry said, stopping in his tracks, turning. His eyes burned for some reason. "I know, Kingsley. I was an idiot."

"You aren't an idiot. He fooled us all."

"I don't care that he deceived me. I just want Ginny to be safe." Harry's voice cracked, and he forced himself not to show any more weakness, to not cry. "I don't care about his motive. I just have to make sure she's safe."

"That's why I'm going with you," Kingsley explained. "Where were you planning on going?"

"Hogwarts," Harry said instantly.

"It won't do you any good. He captured her in Hogsmeade. They're long gone."

"In… Who was watching her?" Harry thundered, his temper flaring again. "She was supposed to be safe! I swear to Merlin, Kingsley, if this was on your watch—" He clenched his teeth, realizing he had just threatened the Minister of Magic. This is all my fault. All my fault. I should never have left her alone. I should have quit this job and moved closer to her as soon as she was threatened. Tears burned again, and he forced himself to stifle them, to swallow hard and try to ignore the shooting pangs in his chest.

"The Auror watching her was stunned. Hermione—"

"Is Hermione hurt too?" Harry demanded.

"No. She deflected the jinx. Fought hard for Ginny. It was in the middle of the street, they were both caught unawares. A stunning spell got her. He was too quick."

"She wasn't the target," Harry mumbled, gripping his wand tighter in his hand. "He just needed her out of the way to get Ginny."

This wasn't adding up for Harry. Ginny was so strong, the best caster of the Bat Bogey hex he had ever known. How could she have been taken like that?

Kingsley seemed to read his mind. "She didn't go easy. We found signs of a huge struggle. I'm sure he's aching, Harry."

"We'll never find out if we don't move," Harry said decidedly, looking about the deserted street. "Let's go—"

At that moment, the door to the bookshop slammed open, and Hestia came running into the street. "Wait!" She sprinted towards them, stopping in her tracks, panting slightly. "This just… This just came."

She held out a grungy piece of parchment, folded with care. Kingsley took it and made to slit it open with his wand, but the paper didn't yield. It were as though he were trying to cut through steel. "What…?"

"I think… I think it's meant for Harry, Kingsley," Hestia whispered, her voice quivering.

Dread pooled in the bottom of Harry's stomach, spreading like poison. He swallowed hard, feeling as though his vision were narrowing. He could see Ginny in his mind's eyes, face light, hair dancing… Pain slapped him across the face, returning the burn behind his eyes. He had to take several breaths before he could stretch out a shaking hand, accepting the letter. He took out his own wand, still smudged with Smeckett's horrible fingerprints, and opened the letter with a mumbled spell.

Kingsley and Hestia jumped, wands drawn, as though ready to cast a shield charm, should a curse jump out, but nothing happened. The parchment simply unfurled innocently. Harry felt his heart slamming against his ribs, like some kind of frantic, caged bird. He swallowed hard past the lump in his throat, summoning every ounce of courage he had to look down.

It was blank. No scrawl, no cut out letters, nothing. For a single second, Harry was relieved. But then he noticed the lock of red hair on the ground.

The world swayed. No. It couldn't be. His eyes narrowed, his breath coming in sharp pants. He felt as though his heart were being torn out of his chest and ripped in two. Ginny. The burning was back, more insistent than before, regardless of Harry clenching his hands in fists, crumbling the parchment. He must have physically tilted, because Kingsley's fist was suddenly holding his arm. "It was sealed with the Auror stamp. He… Must be there."

"He wants us to go." Harry felt like he was speaking from a thousand miles away, barely hearing, barely thinking. His panic was so horrible, so suffocating, that he was numb. "He wants to…" His voice cracked. "Kill her with me right there."

"You won't go alone," Hestia said fiercely. Her voice was a growl, her eyes furious.

Harry shook his head. "He'll be expecting that. I just… I feel like this isn't all. I feel like it's just another trick."

"We can send Aurors in every direction," Kingsley said softly.

Silence stretched after his words. Hestia was biting her lip. Harry was staring ahead, unseeing.

He looked at the ground, at the crumbled parchment… Her hair. He swallowed hard, remembering how it felt under his hands, the glimpse of it in sunlight… Was she already dead? Skin cold, gray, eyes devoid of any light? Oh God. Nausea swept him, and he clenched his jaw to keep from getting sick. Think. Just think. There's a way out of this. Every instinct was torn between telling him to track down Osburn and bruise his knuckles against his jaws, make him suffer for ever touching her; the other side wanted to curl into a ball and sob. He ran a hand through his hair, thinking hard. Taking this isn't an option. He would fight for her. He would go to the ends of the earth to find her if that's what it took.

"Right," he finally mumbled. He cleared his throat, brought his head up, feeling new light charge through his eyes. His voice was louder as he said, "Right. This is what's going to happen." He pointed at Kingsley. "Let's send the Aurors out, just in case I'm wrong and this isn't a trick. But I think I know where he's taken her."

"How?" Hestia asked, her eyes wide.

"I just have a feeling," Harry said, shaking his head. "I'm confused. I don't know why Osburn would do this, but as I said, I don't really care. Let's just get him into custody and Ginny to St. Mungo's. Unless…"

His voice trailed off. He didn't even want to think about that.

"Let's get moving," Kingsley said decidedly, breaking the spell of confusion and sorrow, taking command. "Hestia, take a group to the Ministry. Send a handful of others to Hogsmeade and Hogwarts, protect the castle. And then, have Dedalus go and wait with the Weasleys in McGonagall's office. I'll meet them there later. I'm going with Harry to wherever he's going."

"But… Kingsley—" Hestia spluttered.

"Harry is a great Auror. I trust him."

If Harry hadn't been so miserable, he would have felt a huge surge of pride. Right then, though, he was still refraining from shedding tears. "We should move, Kingsley."

Kingsley nodded as Hestia scampered off, shouting orders to the other Aurors. For just a moment, Harry glimpsed the stress the Minister was feeling. His eyes sagged with tiredness, his robes ruffled. Even his golden hooped earring didn't seem to have its usual sparkle. Nonetheless, he turned to Harry and said, "Where to?"

Harry gripped his wand, anger sparking in his chest again, a roaring beast that screamed for justice. "The Auror base. Where Smeckett first got away."

Ginny's head was swimming. There was a dull throbbing sound in her ears, muted, as though she were underwater. She had the vague thought that it was her heartbeat, still a steady tattoo of rhythm, despite how lousy she felt. Her head was lolling, eyes closed. She felt sluggish and lazy, as though she were floating in slow motion through the air. She couldn't make sense of anything around her; she knew that it was silent, though she could somehow feel she was in a teeny room.

Claustrophobia set in as she became aware of this, and her eyes flashed open in panic. Out. I have to get out. Her eyes cast around the room, and she was relieved to see there was a door, dim light coming from beneath the crack. She made to move towards it, struggling, but found she couldn't move. What? Her eyes flicked down.

Her feet were around two feet above the floor, pointed like a ballerina. She was floating.

Ginny muffled a cry of surprise. How? She couldn't remember anything. She was supposed to be in Hogsmeade, with Hermione. Hermione. Is she here too? She looked as far to her left and right as she could, as she couldn't move her head either. No. She was entirely alone, save for the echo of heavy footsteps, coming from behind the door in front of her. The heavy weight settling on the floorboards gave steady creaks, sounding slightly like a clock to Ginny.

Creak, creak; tick tock.

Pacing, Ginny realized, swallowing. She had no idea who was beyond that door, but she did know that whoever it was would hurt her in an instant. Think. Think. Where's your wand? But she couldn't feel its familiar weight in her pocket, didn't see it on the floor. "Lumos!" she whispered in desperation, though no light flared anywhere. The room remained dark, dusty, and tight.

Panic settled over Ginny. She had no wand and was in a room that felt like it was getting smaller and smaller with every second that passed. An irrational part of her brain screamed that she was going to suffocate if she didn't get out of there quickly. She shook her head to clear it. No. You're not going to suffocate. Just stay calm. She closed her eyes, trying to think clearly. A way out. There has to be a way out.

The footsteps halted for the span of three heartbeats, and then picked up again, growing louder as they approached. Ginny's mind turned off for a scary second as fear paralyzed her. No. Not like this. Don't give up like some kind of Pansy Parkinson. She let her head fall to the side, her eyes flutter closed. She took five deep, calming breaths and then made her breathing more shallow as the door creaked open ominously. Don't move. Don't let them know you're awake. Just play dead.

Play dead. The irony of that statement hit her hard, but she refused any emotion that wanted to flit on her face. She had never played dead. She had always tried to face things head on, to threaten and bellow and hex her way out of things rather than think methodically, buy time. That was Hermione's job. But right then, if she didn't pretend to be dead—or unconscious, whatever—she knew in her heart that she would be dead.

The footsteps entered her room and then stopped. There was silence that seemed to stretch for eternity, thick and oppressive. Ginny still didn't move, didn't let her breathing break or her eyes twitch. Just play dead. Play dead. Play dead…

The silence pressed on.

Hestia Jones lead the Aurors through the Ministry, cutting a path through the crowd of witches and wizards that remained in the Atrium, waiting to take the Floo grates or Apparate back to their homes. "Make room, people, make room!" She had to shout to make her voice heard above the chatter of the crowd, the noise of the lifts, but most saw the dark robes of the Aurors, the patches sewn into the fronts of their robes, directly over their hearts, and parted without complaint.

Hestia stalked past the welcome desk and directed her team in half. "Biggs, you take your half and take the lift to the Auror office. Stick together and check everything. My group, come with me, and we'll regroup with Biggs after we check the Apparition room."

Herding everybody inside proved to be less of a challenge than Hestia had thought, as her Aurors were grim and focused, wands drawn. Most, she noticed, were scarred on their faces and hands from duels long ago. Occasionally, she could spy the new blood, the suppressed panic in some eyes.

Just as the lift was about to clatter up, a voice shouted, "Wait!"

Turning, Hestia caught the door, holding it. Ron Weasley appeared, his hair rumpled, eyes wild. "Let me come with you."

Hestia frowned, thought about it for all of four seconds, and then had some of her Aurors budge aside to make room. "Alright, Weasley."

Ron clambered into the lift, his ears and neck red. "Thanks," he said shortly, staring straight ahead.

"We're going to find her, Ron," Hestia said, almost gently as the lift started upwards.

Weasley swallowed hard and blinked. Hestia noticed his hands were shaking, clenched into fists, folded across his chest. He seemed to be resisting the urge to curse anything within eyesight.

"I just wish I knew why it's always us," Ron mumbled as the lift doors clanged open and the Aurors rushed out.

Hestia snatched his arm and they followed, Hestia squeezing her way through to take the lead. She led the way through the many cubicles, nobody left behind to look up at her and her team curiously as they passed. Everybody was on duty right now, Kingsley's orders. She felt like her heart was pounding at a million miles an hour as she came to the door that lead to the map room and the Apparition points. Beside her, Ron was stiff as a board, wand clenched tight in his right fist, looking ready to murder.

Take a breath. Count to three. Then blast it open. Hestia was afraid of what she would find behind that door. She forced herself to take a big breath in. One. She let it out, staring at that heavy door. Two. She tightened her grip on her wand, preparing herself for the kick of the spell.

Three.

At that moment, a spell that wasn't her own blasted the door open from the inside, the force of a bomb shaking the room. Hestia grabbed Ron and ducked, shouting, "Get down!" just as debris started to fly. A shield spell erupted out of her wand from an instinct, as well as several others from her group. Not everyone was quick enough or covered, however. A dull thud came as one of her Aurors was knocked in the head with a heavy piece of brick. Someone else hissed as the remains of the spell caught them in the arm.

"Get a Healer!" Hestia shouted to someone in the back of the group, and one Auror scampered off, racing back down through the cubicles. Other Aurors started dragging the wounded and unconscious to the side, out of harm's way. Hestia stood and edged her way slowly towards the smoking hole in the wall, breathing hard. "Cover me."

Ron held his wand higher, sticking to her side. A handful of other Aurors flanked her from behind, someone muttering a selective swear beneath their breath. Hestia approached the hole in the wall tentatively, peering inside.

It was destroyed utterly, maps torn from the wall, the Apparition ropes burned to a crisp. Poking her head around the corner, she saw the source of the explosion; little parcels were placed all along the wall, small brown boxes tied up with string. Hestia pursed her lips. "Somebody get me Magical Catastrophes down here. There are more bombs."

Casting her eyes around the room, she saw no sign of Ginny Weasley, or their missing Auror Osburn, for that matter. As her eyes flicked to the map, she saw that all of it had been torn apart, save for one spot.

A small spot in the countryside. Exactly where Harry and Kingsley were.

Harry and Kingsley Apparated to the shack together, appearing with a small pop. There were lights in the windows, dim and orange, flickering. Harry made to stride forward, but Kingsley gripped his arm. "Let me go first. He could have cursed the door."

Kingsley toed forward, hesitantly, blasting open the door to the shack with a muttered, "Reducto." The door flew open, creaking off its hinges, and Kingsley hurried inside, Harry chewing on his cheek as they crossed through the door. Nothing happened. No curse, no hex, nothing; it were as though nobody were there.

Looking around the room, Harry felt fury swell in his chest at the sight of Osburn at the table. He was leaned back in a chair, looking completely at home, one boot on the table, the other tilting the legs of the chair backwards. As he caught sight of Harry and Kingsley, Osburn's mouth twisted into a wicked smile. "Hello, gents. So kind of you to join me."

He motioned to the table with a dirty hand. There was a grimy kettle sitting there, looking in need of a scrubbing, as well as a couple of saucers and teacups. "Cup of tea?"

Harry actually snarled, his wand gripped tightly in his fist. Red was starting to seep at the corners of his vision, anger wrestling with worry and panic for dominance in his chest. "Don't play games."

"I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about, Harry Potter," Osburn said, grinning wickedly. "These are merely manners."

Kingsley was stock still and silent next to Harry, his eyes betraying the fury bubbling beneath the surface of his thoughts. "Dwight. Where is Elphias? He was supposed to be guarding this place."

"Oh, I wouldn't be worried about Doge," said Osburn, that grin still held firmly on his lips. "The both of you are more concerned about the Weasley girl, aren't you?" He picked up an empty teacup and examined it idly. "She has gorgeous hair, by the way. Did you know that, Harry?"

"Don't you dare fucking—" Harry started, clenching his teeth to keep from roaring.

"Language, Potter. I'd expect better from you."

"Stop teasing me! What have you done with Ginny?"

Osburn sighed, letting the legs of his chair fall forward with a loud thump. "Are you tired of my company already, Harry? Aren't you going to ask me why I'm doing this? Have me give away my whole diabolical plot like some idiot?"

"I don't give a damn!" Harry practically roared, shaking all over. He pointed his wand at Osburn's head, taking a step closer. "Tell me where she is, Osburn, or I swear to Merlin I'll—"

Osburn moved so quickly that Harry nearly missed it. He drew his wand from his robes, shouting, "Accio!" There was a loud rushing sound, and something pushed past Harry, hard. An invisibility cloak rustled to the floor as Osburn grabbed whatever it was tightly.

It was Ginny. Her head slouched to the side, unconscious. There was blood dripping steadily from a gash on her forehead. Osburn lazily pushed his wand to the side of Ginny's throat, right over her pulse point. "Alright. Listen, Potter, Shacklebolt, this is how this is going to work. You're going to stop threatening me. You're going to lower your wands. I'm going to back out of this shack nice and easy. I'm going to Disapparate with Ginevra here, and I'm going to kill her. After that, I'll send you clues as to where you can find her body, while I reap my reward."

Kingsley said, "This doesn't make sense, Osburn. Why?"

"You really don't know who I am, do you?"

Silence pressed on Harry's ears, but he was only half listening to Kingsley and Osburn, barely noticing the lull in conversation; he hardly heard Osburn's warnings. There was something off about Ginny. Something didn't feel… Right.

Osburn was still grinning garishly, now looking at Harry. "Lower your wand, Potter, or you'll see her pretty brains all over this floor."

Harry swallowed hard and lowered his wand, still staring intently at Ginny. Something isn't right. He had no way of conveying this to Kingsley without being found out.

Osburn said, "I'll give you a hint. Does the name Jugson mean anything to you, Potter?"

Something stirred in the back of Harry's memory. For some reason, he could hear Lucius Malfoy in the back of his mind, far away, as though through a tunnel. "Jugson, come here, we must be organized! We'll split into pairs and search, and don't forget, be gentle with Potter until we've got the prophecy, but you can kill the others if necessary…"

The Department of Mysteries. Harry remembered Jugson then, vaguely. "He's a Death Eater," Harry mumbled, blinking.

"Right," Osburn said, sneering.

"He died, though," Kingsley spoke up, "Last May."

"Right again," said Osburn, beginning to shuffle towards the door. "Any idea what that would mean?"

Harry couldn't think, he was still focused on Ginny, his brow furrowed. Kingsley, however, seemed to figure it out. "You're—"

"Yes," said Osburn.

Harry didn't understand. He didn't dare to glance at Kingsley, worried of what he would see there. Osburn was face to face with Harry now, literally inches apart, his wand still pressed to Ginny's throat. "Don't try anything funny, Potter," he whispered maliciously, eyes glittering.

Ginny stirred then, her eyes cracking open. Osburn was now only feet from the doorway, stretching out a hand to grasp at the wall. Harry locked eyes with her.

And then it hit him.

"Petrificus Totalus!" he shouted suddenly, catching Osburn unawares, directly in the face. At the exact moment that Osburn took the spell, the second that he started to fall, his own spell blasted. It missed Ginny by inches, brushing aside her hair from her shoulder. The curse rebounded, and instead hit her in the back, making her shriek and fall face forwards.

Several things happened at once. Kingsley shouted and ran forward, gathering Ginny, while Harry jumped onto Osburn, drawing back a fist and hitting him in the face, anger pooling deep in his chest, his stomach. Osburn looked at him with malicious eyes, glossy in the light, despite the pool of blood coming from his nose, the cartilage tilted at an odd angle. Broken. Harry snapped back his fist again and smashed against his jaw this time, bruising his knuckles in the process. "Where is she? You fucking liar, what have you done with her?"

Osburn only looked at him with those laughing eyes.

Slowly, Harry turned to the left, looking past Kingsley and the Ginny imposter on the floor. He brushed dust from his glasses impatiently, turning back to Osburn. His expression hadn't changed, though it looked less smug now.

He needed her here. He needed her here for her hair.

"Kingsley!" Harry shouted, "She's here!"

"I know, I'm holding her!" Kingsley said back, his eyes furious. "That was stupid, Harry, you knew Osburn would—"

"That isn't Ginny," Harry said, shaking his head. "The person you're holding is Elphias Doge with Polyjuice Potion in his system. I'd bet my wand on it."

Kingsley looked down in horror, and then hurriedly pointed his wand at the door, shooting off a jet of silver. A Patronus. Harry's eyes never wavered from Osburn's, and he watched them turn deadly and dark. He felt his lip curl, disgusted, and he tossed Osburn to the ground, letting his head smack. Pushing himself to his feet, Harry moved to the left, past the kitchen, to the hallway that would lead to the bedrooms. The hall was lined with doors; a couple closets, one bathroom, and then the sleeping quarters.

She was in the first hall closet he tried.

Much like her double in the front room, there was blood on her head, but her face looked more drawn and sickly than normal. The front left of her hair was missing a lock, significantly shorter than the opposite side. Her skin was pale, almost gray looking, and Harry hastened to her, picking her up gently. She was unconscious, her head falling behind his arm. Her freckles were more pronounced against her scary-colored skin, like red little stars. He bit his lip, refusing the hotness behind his eyes. Ginny. He brushed her hair away tenderly, carrying her out to Kingsley. His knees were shaking slightly, a dry feeling in his mouth.

Just as he and Kingsley locked eyes, more Aurors appeared, popping into existence just outside the door. Hestia was the first one in, looking around at the scene frantically. "How… What?"

Kingsley hurriedly put the fake Ginny—Elphias Doge—on the ground and pointed his wand at Osburn. "Get Osburn to the Ministry, to an interrogation room, as quick as you can. Schedule a court date."

"Ginny—" Hestia's eyes flicked from the Ginny on the floor to the Ginny in Harry's arms.

"This is Elphias disguised as Ginny," Kingsley said shortly as more Aurors appeared, heaving Osburn to his feet and binding him with locking charms. "He needs to be taken to St. Mungo's immediately. As well as the real Ginny."

Healers were now on the scene, two bending over Elphias, taking a pulse, three others rushing to Harry. "We'll take her," one of them said, almost comfortingly, while another chastised, "Let go, Mr. Potter, we need to do our jobs." But Harry didn't want to let her go. He was convinced that if he let her go he'd never hold her again, never watch those eyes flit open. He tried to shake his head, to refuse, to speak, but she was already out of his grip, on a stretcher one of the Healers had conjured.

"Pulse is weak," one of them muttered.

"Internal trauma," said another. "Too much blood loss."

"Ginny?" Harry asked softly, his mind suddenly racing and catching up with what was happening. "No. Is she okay?"

"Don't crowd us, Mr. Potter," said one Healer as they started wheeling Ginny away from him.

"Need some Floo powder," said another Healer, hovering his wand over Ginny's heart.

"We don't have that kind of time. We have to Apparate."

"That's too dangerous—"

"We have no choice."

"Ginny?" Harry said again, his world swirling, the voices of the Healers blurring together. The room was suddenly spinning. Where was he? Where was Ginny? Was she okay? What about Osburn? He couldn't think. His head was so fuzzy, a roaring sound in his ears. He couldn't think clearly.

"Someone catch him!" Hestia suddenly shouted, pointing at Harry. Her voice sounded a million miles away, her figure small in his eyes. Everything was small, his vision tunneling and edging with blackness.

"Ginny?" Harry hadn't even realized he was falling, or that he had fainted until he was under the surface.

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Always,

Lori