A Butterfly Effect Chapter 18: Just Behind the Seams, a harry potter fanfic

So… hello again. I have no real excuse for the time between updates. I took a break over winter hols and it took till January to get back to writing. The first draft of this chapter was shite… so I scrapped it. The second was filled with me mutilating my characters… so I scrapped it. I'm still working on the third… which is… satisfactory… but I can't make you all wait any longer so I'm cutting it in half and giving you the part that I'm happy with.

The desire to tell you the entire story's plot in an author's note is festering in my mind like an itch I can't scratch. But… I can't let the cat out of the bag; not yet.

I am, however, going to give you the teeniest tiniest hint. All I'm going to say, and I can't stress this enough, is that the love between Harry and Ginny is absolutely positively NOT 'meant to be' or 'fated' or any other such rubbish. NOR does their connection force them to love each other. A Butterfly Effect exists solely WITHIN the realm of possibility for the Potterverse and thus, it strictly adheres to the three central themes of the books: death, the power of love, and the struggle between doing what is right or doing what is easy. (I know I've said all this before to my more interested reviewers, but everyone should read through the story keeping these things in mind.)

Chapter 18: Just Behind the Seams

The mind is the greatest prison of all.

0000

There is a room, inside a room, inside a circular room. Inside this room are benches. The benches surround a pedestal. Floating above this pedestal is a rune suspended by nothing. And on September the 1st at 10:39 AM, the rune pulsed with a golden light.

0000

BOOM BOOM BOOM

…

BOOM BOOM

"Harry," groaned Ginny miserably, pulling the sheets above her head to drown out her mother's incessant knocking as it increased in both pace and volume. "Harry, please make it stop. Put up a charm."

Her friend's sleepy, answering grumble, which she thought would have come from the spot right beside her, echoed up from… the floor.

Frowning, Ginny shifted beneath the covers to find that Harry had indeed vacated their bed. Leaning over the side of the mattress, she stared down at the black-haired girl's sleeping form.

Her lips twitched upwards in a benign grin.

Both of the plushies that Harry was snuggling had somehow found their way into the girl's mouth.

Looking at her like this, it was hard for Ginny to remember that Harry was three months older than she was.

Reaching out a finger, she softly poked at Harry's alabaster cheek. "Oi, Piggy… wake up."

Harry's eyes fluttered open and Ginny, as always, let out a tiny gasp of shock as the overflowing pools of dazzling emerald swept over her.

"What are you doing up there," asked Harry in a tired, confused voice. "No, wait… what am I doing down here?"

Tapping Harry gently on the nose, Ginny smiled. "A clumsy lump like you? I reckon you fell out of bed."

Harry nipped lightly at her outstretched fingers. "Be nice. It's far too early for a ribbing."

"Ohhh… alright," said Ginny jovially, rolling off the bed to land with a loud thwump on Harry's cot. "I suppose I can let you off the hook just this once."

As Harry opened her mouth to reply, Mum, who must have become extremely tired of knocking, thrust open the door. "UP! The three of you… Get up! We're going to be at the platform nice and early this year. I'll not have the two of you missing the train for a second year in a row!"

Her mother gave her a rather intense look before bustling out of the room.

Yawning tremendously, Ginny stood, stretched, grabbed a brush from her dresser, and plopped back down onto the mattress to begin what would likely be another fruitless attempt to tame her friend's hair… not that she actually wanted to tame it. The ongoing struggle between her hands and Harry's silky, black locks was less like a battle, and more like an enjoyable game. Ginny would brush out one protruding spike and another would immediately pop up; she would braid a few strands of hair together and, instantly, a previously formed braid would come undone. To get the messy hair to do anything more than fall in a jumble of waves, spikes, and curls was no small feat and Ginny always felt an enormous sense of accomplishment whenever she managed it.

"Morning, Mione," said Harry tentatively as Ginny pulled her backwards to sit between her legs. "Ready for Hogwarts?"

Instead of offering Harry any sort of reply, the brown-haired girl on the cot next to them gently pushed back the covers, stepped into a pair of white slippers, and quietly left the room.

As the door closed behind Hermione, Harry sighed dejectedly and sank backwards into Ginny's chest. "Bugger… She's furious with me. Do you think she thinks I broke our pact?"

"She didn't look very angry…" offered Ginny consolingly. "Maybe she's just not feeling well.

Harry shook her head vaguely. "No… I don't think so. I've never seen Hermione in a rage with anyone except for Ron, but I recognized the look that she gave me last night. It was like I had stabbed her in the heart. No, she's angry alright… I'm just getting the silent treatment."

"I suppose my brother didn't do much to settle her down then," said Ginny softly, playing with the tips of the other girl's hair. "Well, no surprises there, eh? But don't worry, Harry. She'll come 'round."

"I don't know about that," Harry mumbled morosely. "You know how Hermione gets. She's even more stubborn than you are."

"I'm not that stubborn," grumbled Ginny stubbornly.

Harry giggled and patted her lightly on the knee. "Of course you aren't."

Ginny shoved her. "Shut it, you… or I'll give you pigtails."

Breakfast at the Burrow was an extremely uncomfortable affair that morning. Ginny truly hated moments like this. Varying levels of discontent were oozing out of every chair's occupant like pus from a Bubotuber plant. Not a sound was made apart from the loud gargling purrs of Hermione's cat and the clink of silverware on china.

Percy was, amazingly, not talking about his schoolwork. He sat quietly, bearing a rather sour look upon his face. While Ron had cared for Scabbers a great deal in the three years that the little rat had been in his care, it was nothing compared to what Percy had felt for the grimy thing. Her older brother was… Well, he was Percy… and according to Fred and George, he didn't have very many friends at Hogwarts. So Scabbers… Peter Pettigrew… a murderer… had taken on the role of his best friend for nearly ten years. The only reason he had parted with the rodent in the first place was because he felt terrible that he had been given Hermes as well while Ron, his favorite little brother, would be going to school without a familiar. Considering how disgusted Ginny herself felt that the cause of Harry's orphan status had been living in their house for over a decade, she figured that it was hitting Percy rather hard.

Ron was rolling his sausages around his plate, not looking at anyone. Ginny couldn't quite tell exactly what was wrong with him… but she was quite sure that whatever it was had something to do with the reason Hermione was boring holes into his head with her gaze.

Oh Ron… what did you say to her?

Mum, for whatever reason, was leveling Ginny with a steady, scathing look. There was clearly something her mother desperately wanted to rage at her over, but was thankfully managing to keep it to herself at the breakfast table.

Ginny assumed that Fred and George were being uncharacteristically somber due to the fact that Sirius had left during the night without saying goodbye. Ginny didn't know what exactly had caused it, but during Harry's birthday party, the glamoured man had done or said something that had instilled an intense idol-worship within the twins. When she had asked them why they were so worked up, they had promptly told her to 'shove off.'

Harry was keeping her head down and shoveling food into her mouth faster than Ron could at his hungriest, a clear sign that she was feeling guilty for everything that had happened last night.

Her father, like Ginny herself, was observing the rest of the family. His eyes never left the Prophet, but she could tell he was watching nonetheless, trying to anticipate the outburst that would send the Burrow into a state of unbridled chaos.

Enough of this.

"Well," drawled Ginny dryly. "This is a bit awkward, isn't it?"

The simultaneous reactions from around the table went above and beyond what she had been hoping for. Her mother tutted her sternly, Harry snorted and a jet of milk came shooting out of her nose in a great spurt, Percy's lips twitched upwards, Ron made eye contact with Hermione, Hermione squeaked and quickly focused her gaze elsewhere, and the twin's fell backwards out of their tilted chairs.

Her father calmly folded his newspaper and smiled warmly at her. "Considerably more so now… thank you, dear."

Ginny returned his large grin and rubbed Harry on the back as the girl continued to choke on her milk. "No problem, Dad."

After that, the rest of the morning flew by in a swirling cacophony of warm laughter and frantic shouting as the Burrow's occupants searched for their mislaid possessions. In what seemed like no time at all, Ginny found herself standing next to Harry, staring at a familiar brick barrier.

"I have to say… it would probably be for the best if we didn't run this time," said Ginny quietly. "Who knows what might happen."

"Aww, come on, Weasley," coaxed Harry, flashing her with a gleaming-white, toothy smile and bumping their hips together. "For old time's sake."

As the simple phrase bounced around her mind, a tremendous deadweight lifted out of Ginny's heart and a small sigh of relief fluttered past her lips. Hearing her own words rolling off of the girl's tongue was like taking a large gulp of Wiggenweld Potion; it healed a wound that had been festering for far too long.

Nothing was going to change. Nothing. No matter what happened, nothing would ever change how she felt about Harry… and nothing would change how Harry felt about her. She wasn't going to be left behind.

I am good enough. I AM good enough for Harry Potter.

Ginny took the green-eyed girl's calloused hand and smiled as her charm spun around her wrist to meet its twin. Leaning into the arm of the enormous, snuggly, blue overcoat that Harry had been gifted by Hagrid the previous year, she whispered under her breath so the rest of the family wouldn't hear her. "Will you make me a promise, Harry?"

Harry shrugged and nodded. "Course I will. Well… as long as I can keep it, that is."

Ginny squeezed the hand resting in her own. "Promise me that we'll always do this; promise me that on the first day of every September, we'll come here and run through this barrier together… even when we're crotchety old ladies and can't run anymore."

Harry's jaw fell slightly slack and she gaped at Ginny in surprise. "Wh-What?"

Leaning forward, Ginny softly nuzzled the girl's cheek and whispered, "Please?"

The girl shuddered and, after a moment, her arm slid around Ginny's waist. "Yes… a million times… yes. I wo-"

A hand fell to her shoulder.

"Enough of that, dears," chided her mother, gently tugging them apart with an indecipherable expression smeared across her face. "You two are going through first this time. Off you go."

Placing her hands on the trolley handles, Harry turned to face the brick wall and nudged Ginny's hip.

"Three…"

Ginny beamed at her. That one little touch said all the things that Mum had stopped the black-haired girl from saying; all the things Ginny never got tired of hearing.

"Two…" she replied softly, nudging Harry back.

"One!" yelled her friend happily, pushing off with a great whoop, as if she had just taken off on her broomstick.

The scarlet steam engine exploded into view as they emerged from the brick wall side-by-side.

Ginny reeled as she was hit by a hundred different sensations at once. One among the lot was particularly startling: it was freezing.

Everywhere Ginny looked she saw icicles; they hung from the lamp posts, from the train, and even from the tips of a few noses. As shivers ran across her body like a wildfire sweeping across the moors, every ounce of the excitement and happiness she had been feeling rushed out of her body in a great whoosh. All that was left behind was grief. The most horrible burning pain seared in her heart, yet it didn't cause her to cry out. It didn't feel like a real hurt. It felt rather like a memory; a vivid memory of all her sadness and agony. It felt like the memory of running her fingers over a pair of dry, cracked, bloodied lips. It felt like the memory of spindly hands melting her flesh. It felt like the memory of having been consumed… eaten… bit by little bit.

Barely able to remain standing upright, she reached out for Harry's warm, comforting arm.

But…

It wasn't there.

Confused and slightly scared, Ginny turned.

Harry had stopped several yards behind her. She was frozen in place, her hands clenching at the handles of her trolley in a death-grip. Her breath was heaving in her chest and her terror-filled eyes were wide, focusing upon some unseen horror that was lurking just out of Ginny's sight.

The sound of loud, rattling breath… no… of a hundred rattling breaths, drawn in unison, echoed down from the ceiling.

Harry's eyes rolled upwards into the back of her head.

Ginny gasped and rushed forward to catch her friend as she fell, but a large man and his cart inconveniently blocked the way. She heard the crunch of Harry's nose even with twenty feet between them. Somewhat surprisingly, when Ginny finally reached her, Harry was conscious and kneeling on all fours. Her hair was hanging into her face, her shattered nose was dribbling blood onto the stone platform like a leaky faucet, and her body was shaking with silent uncontrollable sobs.

Ginny frowned. Her best friend didn't cry over something as minutely painful as a fractured nose. No… something was wrong; terribly wrong.

Harry looked… broken.

Ginny knelt down next to her. "Harry, are you alright? What happened?"

"I saw… I saw…" Harry trailed off as her body shook violently.

Ginny reached into the veil of ebony hair and cupped the girl's cheek. "I'm here… you can tell me."

Harry raised her head slowly. "Well, I saw… me."

Ginny screamed and stumbled backwards, her heart pounding rapidly against the walls of her ribcage.

Harry's eyes, once a sparkling emerald, were…

Red.

A sickening grin that Ginny knew all too well slowly stretched across her friend's face. Along with the blood dripping down from her nose, it transformed the girl's pretty visage into something horrific.

Terror… absolute terror… flooded through Ginny's body as she realized that Harry wasn't sobbing…

She was laughing.

"T-Tom," Ginny stuttered weakly. "P-Please… don't."

Sneering derisively, Harry raised her wand and leveled it squarely between Ginny's eyes.

The world's movement slowed to a snail's pace as the emerald-green spell soared towards her through the air. Her mind went painfully blank. The only thought she was able to fully-form was that she would have liked to go flying with Harry one last time.

And then… something heavy slammed into her side, knocking her down to the ground.

The jet of poisonous light streaked through the air where her head had just been and slammed into the back of a middle-aged woman that was hugging her daughter goodbye.

Shrieks and screams of terror erupted from the surrounding bodies as the woman fell to the ground in a splayed heap.

Ginny heard Harry shout an incantation and a mighty explosion rocked Platform Nine and Three Quarters. The steam engine of the Hogwarts Express was blown twenty feet into the air, landing with an earsplitting crash fifty yards down the track.

Unbridled chaos broke out among the crowd as the hundreds of people milling about the train all panicked as one. Some ran for the barrier to disapparate, some made for the train's compartments, and some simply dove for cover, but each and every one of them trampled and shoved the rest to get to their desired choice of safe harbor. Aurors in royal-blue and DMLE officers in grey swarmed around Harry, blocking her from Ginny's view, only to be blown backwards seconds later with the force of a cannon. Barrages of spellfire danced through the air in a blur of color.

Percy, quite clearly the one that had just saved her life, shouted into her ear, "Get up, Ginny! Run! Get to the barrier!"

Her legs, however, refused to move. "But… Harry-"

Harry's laughter rang out above the din of the battle, but it wasn't the warm and tinkling laugh that Ginny was so familiar with. It was his laugh; Tom's high-pitched cackle disguised within Harry's voice.

"I have to help her!"

"There's nothing you can do! NOW GO!" Percy yanked her to her feet and pushed her roughly towards the barrier, simultaneously shielding a bolt of orange light from hitting the young girl next to them that was pleading with the motionless body of her mother to wake up.

Ginny cried out as she was caught in the stampeding crowd clambering out of the brick wall. She needed to stay! She had to help!

But struggling was no use. Ginny was stuck in the center of fifty bodies all jostling her in the opposite direction.

She fell painfully as the families around her disapparated, completely oblivious in their panic to the crowd of muggle spectators that had developed to watch hundreds of people pouring out of a seemingly solid wall only to disappear moments later.

One such muggle, a chubby young man with kind, oddly-familiar, brown eyes was clutching a small plastic baggie and staring down at her amusedly. He silently held out his hand in an offer to help her up.

As he pulled her upright, Ginny glimpsed the contents of his little bag. Her eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets as an idea rapidly began to take shape in her mind. It was by far the greatest, strangest, and most dangerous idea she had ever had. The chance of success was so infinitesimally small that it was relatively pointless to even try… but she had to do something and this was all she could do.

Diving into the pocket of her jeans, Ginny frantically pulled out her one galleon monthly allowance and asked the boy, "Excuse me, would you trade me that bag for this gold coin? It's worth about five pounds, I think. I'm sorry to ask, but it's really-"

The boy shoved the bag into her hands before she could finish. "Here… It's on me, Ginny. You look really desperate. I'm trying to lose a few kilos anyway. Just a little moment of weakness, you know? Save me from myself, will you?"

Ginny nodded gratefully and turned away to dart back to the platform, but froze mid-step as the boy's words sank into her panic-muddled brain.

Ginny? I never said… Save him from…

Ginny gasped in shock and whirled around, suddenly realizing why his dark-brown eyes seemed so familiar. They were the same pair that haunted her nightmares. In her dreams, they were cold and maniacal, promising pain beyond pain. However, these were warm and… gentle. She had only ever witnessed one other occasion in which those eyes had showed true kindness.

But… the boy was gone. Not a soul in the crowd seemed aware that a rather rotund teen standing within their midst had suddenly vanished into thin air.

Forgetting for the slightest moment the events taking place on the platform, Ginny smiled down at the very solid bag resting in her palm and whispered, "Thank you."

It might have been her imagination, or it might have been a distorted breath carried on the wind, but Ginny heard his voice echoing softly in the distance.

'No… It is I who is grateful, Ginevra Weasley. My debt to you shall never be paid in full. Now go. Save your friend.'

Ginny didn't need telling twice. Bolting back to the barrier, she stuck her wand through the wall and yelled, "EXPULSO," before dashing through it. The crowd on the other side had been knocked backwards just far enough for her to squeeze through.

The sight that met her eyes was devastating.

Dementors, hundreds of them, flew through the air with wild abandon, feeding off the hopes of the remaining combatants. Ginny could see the anguish flash across every face except Harry's whenever one of the cloaked monstrosities got too close.

Bodies were strewn everywhere; at least twenty littered the immediate area around Harry, while the rest were scattered randomly about the platform. Some lay unmoving, while some lay moaning and bloodied. While the fight itself still raged fiercely, the Aurors, what with the heavy losses, had clearly realized that they were outmatched and had retreated out of the open, choosing instead to battle from cover along with a few brave civilians. Ginny saw her mother, father, and Percy crouching behind a column and firing stunners at Harry every chance they could get.

However, neither they, nor the other fighters, could land a single hit.

The black-haired girl danced about within the circle of bodies, ducking and weaving through the spellfire that passed through her nearly corporeal shields with practiced ease. She was flinging an onslaught of magic the likes of which Ginny had never seen. Great snakes of fire and arcs of black lightning erupted from her wandtip with fluid grace. Golems of sulfur and stone rose around her with the simplest flicks. Shadowy creatures of nightmare dragged her opponents out into the open to be dispatched one by one with flash of green.

Ignoring the danger, ignoring her every inhibition, Ginny raised her wand, ran forward into the middle of the fray, and shouted at the top of her lungs, "Oi! Tom!"

Ginny vaguely heard her mother's scream of dismay as Harry immediately sent a burst of emerald hurtling in her direction.

But she was ready for it; the words were already leaving her lips.

"Tarantallegra!"

A jet of identical green erupted from her wand and collided head-on with the dreaded curse.

It happened just as it had before. As the spellfire faded away, a thin thread of golden light materialized between the twin wands, splintering into thousands of offshoots to form a protective golden dome. The dome rose slowly into the air to hover a few feet from the ground. A golden circle bulged at the center of the thread and the beams connecting the wands began to swirl and spiral around it, slowly dragging them closer together.

Ginny shuddered as a blissful sensation of warmth spread through her body, beating back the icy-chill emitted from the cloaked monsters that were swarming over the transparent dome like moths around a flame. The warmth was achingly familiar and it tugged painfully at her heart.

She wanted that warmth; she wanted it so badly…

She wanted her Harry.

It became steadily more difficult to hold on to the thrumming shaft of holly as they drew closer together, for Harry was fearfully tugging and twisting her wand to break the connection. Ginny realized with a lurch of fear that if the girl kept at it, the thread would definitely snap when it became short enough.

She simply couldn't let that happen. She wasn't going to let him win... not again.

Somewhere, deep down in her gut, Ginny knew that this was the solution. Why else would he have appeared, if not to repay her? Steeling herself, she took a firm hold of her violently vibrating wand and tossed the bag Tom had given her directly at Harry's face.

The black-haired girl halted her frantic attempts to break the connection and snatched it out of the air reflexively.

Ginny didn't know whether this Tom had the same little bit of humanity in him that her Tom had, or whether the reaction was simply shock, but the bag of gleaming multi-colored gumdrops did the job it was meant to do: it broke his concentration.

The wands, now only a few feet apart, jumped together like magnets, pulling both Harry and Ginny along with them.

Harry let out a shriek of agony as the golden beams of the double-spiral wrapped around her, dancing across her skin. Like water circling down a drain, the crimson within her irises was sucked into the darkness of her pupils, revealing the sparkling emeralds that lay beneath.

Ginny gaped as the rune in miniature appeared on both her left wrist and Harry's right, before it, along with the glowing dome, softly faded away.

Slowly, they drifted back down to earth. When her feet touched the ground, Harry crumpled and slumped forward into Ginny's arms, sobbing quietly.

"It's alright," Ginny crooned gently, pressing a soft kiss on the girl's forehead. "H-He's gone."

Shivering in disgust, Harry buried her eyes into Ginny's neck. "No… he's not. He's… he's just… waiting; waiting till he can come out again."

Ginny opened her mouth to say that she wasn't going to let that happen, but a strong pair of hands wrenched her roughly away from Harry, tugging her arms behind her back in a painful hold.

"What are you doing?" she yelled angrily, fighting to free herself as a blindfold, a gag, and several ropes snapped into existence around her friend's body. "No! Let her go! That wasn't Harry!"

Ignoring Ginny completely, a tall dark-skinned man in royal-blue robes hauled Harry to her feet. Pinching the bridge of his nose in exhaustion, he shouted to the surrounding Aurors, "Alright… Alright, we're done here. Clean-up and Medical squads will arrive shortly. In the meantime, help who you can and portkey the seriously wounded straight to St. Mungo's. Scrimgeour, get these two into a pair of holding cells and make sure that Potter's is high-security. No one goes in or out until the situation has been assessed."

0000

Immersed deep within his thoughts, Albus absentmindedly stroked the closed petals of the crimson flower upon his desk.

Missed chances; there were far too few and much too many. They cluttered the path he had walked in life and their various outcomes were all he could ever think about.

The Circles had disbanded without reaching any sort of agreement. Even though he had revealed to them that Tom had created multiple horcruxes, one of which was young Harry, the council had hesitated. Even though Albus had explained that a venture into the mind of the soulless boy was necessary to expediently discover his secrets, the council had hesitated. Even though Nicolas had shown his true identity to support the effort, the council had hesitated.

It was simply another missed chance. He would have to take another road to obtain memories of Tom; a road that he feared would take years… maybe decades… to gather enough information and piece it together.

While the Circles would reconvene on the next solstice, Albus had a feeling that he would be unsuccessful yet again in gaining their trust.

He couldn't blame them, however. They had thought him untrustworthy and weak ever since that day upon the eve of war; ever since that missed chance to change the world. He had fled, unwilling to learn who it was that had fired the spell that killed Ariana. He had let Gellert run rampant for twelve years before finally facing his fears. No… he couldn't blame them in the slightest. He wouldn't trust his sanity to a man like himself either.

Even though Albus had done his best to put it behind him, the day still burned vividly in his mind.

/FLASHBACK/

Albus grimaced as he slipped unnoticed into the old mansion with ease. There wasn't a single ward blocking his entry. For a man plotting a coup to overthrow the German ministry, Gellert seemed decidedly overconfident.

As he strode quickly though the corridors to the main hall, he noticed that the mark of the Hallows was displayed upon every bit of the décor. It shamed him that he had once been a part of this. It shamed him that their plans as boys had driven Gellert to believe that genocide and muggle warfare were means to achieve the greater good.

But Albus was going to put a stop to it tonight… once and for all.

With six sharp flicks of his wand, he disarmed, bound, and asphyxiated the two men that were guarding the doors to the stateroom. Casting a quick revelation charm to identify how many lay in wait within the room, he vanished the doors and stepped through.

Although it had been decades since they had seen each other last, Albus' eyes found Gellert immediately. Even now, after so many years, his heart still flipped at the sight of him.

Knowing he had been detected the second he stepped through the threshold, Albus raised his wand and fired a reductor curse straight at the man's head just to prove that he was serious.

Gellert was out of his chair and dodging before the spell had even left Albus' wand. The red beam of light blew a gaping hole in the armchair, flew past the blonde's ear, and cut down one of the three wizards that stood on the other side of the table.

A wide boyish grin stretched across Gellert's face as their eyes met. Wiping the ash of the smoking armchair from his cheek, he held up a hand to stop the two remaining men from attacking. "Wand's away, Gentlemen… neither of you are a match for this man. It's nice to see you too, Albus. It has been far too long."

"I wish it were under happier circumstances, Gellert," said Albus flatly.

Gellert's deep voice shook with laughter. "What happier circumstance than the eve of my revolution? Surely you've come to congratulate me… old friend."

As Gellert finished his last word, he withdrew a long notched wand from the sleeve of his billowing robes.

Albus blanched. He hadn't wanted to believe the rumors. "It's true, then? Y-You have the Elder Wand?"

Gellert held up the wand to his eyes. "I was hoping you would notice. Yes, for some time now it has been in my possession. All we ever dreamed of sitting in the palm of my hand… Well, all I ever dreamed of. For you, I suppose it was the stone. Hmm…"

A flash of sadness broke through the heartless mask upon the blonde's face. "First, your parents… and then… your sister. For what it is worth, I am sorry, Albus. She was never meant to-"

"This is no longer solely about Ariana, Gellert," spat Albus spitefully, refusing in his heart to accept the man's apology.

Gellert's cold expression snapped back into place. "EXACTLY! This is about so much more! Consider, Albus, the greater good."

Albus shook his head and leveled his wand at Gellert. "Nothing can justify what you're planning, Gellert. This must end… and I must end it."

Gellert sneered at him and raised the wand of legend. "Is that so? Well, I can't let you do that, Albus… so it seems… that we must duel."

Albus frowned, thinking of all the destruction that would reign upon the surrounding village. "No… Not here. I won't sacrifice any more innocents. As members of the Circles, we shall duel according to tradition. I, Albus Dumbledore, Grand Sorcerer of the Seventh Circle do hereby invoke the ancient rites of combat. Do you agree to my challenge, Gellert Grindelwald, Master Sorcerer of the Seventh Circle?"

Lowering his wand, Gellert strode forward, held out his hand, and snarled, "As you wish…"

Albus clasped it firmly, completing the contract necessary for transport. There was an almighty jerk behind his navel and a second later, his feet slammed into the surface of the ancient dueling platform.

Torches all around them burst into life, casting the Arena of the Circles into stark relief. Loud popping sounds bounced off the vaulted ceiling as hundreds of their fellow Masters apparated in to watch. While the location of the arena was widely known, it was entirely impossible to enter unless a duel was taking place… which wasn't very often.

Gellert slowly walked to the far side of the platform and turned. "Mind or magic, Albus?"

"It is your choice, my love," Albus said softly.

Gellert's cold expression fell away. "Still?"

Albus nodded. "Always."

The blonde man slid the Elder wand into his sleeve and snapped his fingers, causing two chairs of stone to arise from the rock.

"I as well," muttered Gellert. "Now… let us begin."

/END/

Albus closed his eyes and sank backwards into his armchair, suppressing the memory of their mental duel from which he had fled. For years after finally locking Gellert away, he had agonized over his missed chance to stop the great war before it started; to save sixty-two million lives.

But after nearly driving himself to madness, he eventually learned that dwelling upon those days brought only unneeded grief to his doorstep.

He had to focus on the present. He had to focus on Tom's-

Albus lost his train of thought as a vaguely familiar lynx patronus leapt through the wall to hover above his desk. Kingsley Shacklebolt's hurried voice echoed off the many silver instruments that were scattered around the circular office.

"Dumbledore, Potter went mad. Attacked at the platform. Destroyed Hogwarts Express. Twenty-five dead, six in critical care, three permanently wounded. Your presence is required at the Ministry."

0000

The grizzly-haired Auror tossed Harry roughly onto the cold stone and slammed the cell-door shut. The hum of powerful wards snapping into place buzzed loudly in her ears, intensifying her already pounding headache to an almost unbearable point.

Groaning in pain, she crawled to the door, pressed her thudding temples against the icy-metal, and let the numb feeling that weighed heavily on her heart lift.

Furious sobs bubbled in her chest as she cursed Voldemort and all who followed him to the very worst sort of hell. He had taken everything from her: her family, her home, and now… her entire life. There was nothing left. Never again would Ginny sleep by her side. Never again would Ron ruffle her hair. Never again would Hermione throw an arm around her shoulders. She was going to rot away in prison until the day they carried her out to the grave… and it was all because of him.

When her eyes dried out and her exhausted body could not bear to weep for a second longer, Harry crawled onto the stone bench that looked like it was to serve as her bed. She stared hollowly up at ceiling, trying to fight off the suffocating despair that was clawing its way into her mind.

There was so much blood… and she was drowning in it. It coated her skin, caked her hair, and sullied her clothes.

As the images of motionless faces flashed across her vision, Harry frantically rubbed her soaked hands against the rough stone. However, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't wipe a single drop of the sticky liquid away. It was stained in; her very soul was stained crimson.

"Don't bother, girl. It never comes off… Never."

Harry jumped a foot in the air as the deep voice, rich with a foreign accent, cut through the thick silence like a hot knife to butter.

Someone… or something… was sitting in the shadowy corner of the cell.

Harry panicked and was on the verge of shouting for help when a wand, held by a scarred, decaying hand that seemed to have three fingers made of silver, emerged into the dim light.

"Scream and I'll kill you, innocent or not."

Her eyes widened as she recognized his voice. "You're the one from the stands. Who are you? Why have you been following me?"

The wand lowered. "I'm… a friend."

Frowning, Harry cautiously climbed off the bed and crouched down into the opposite corner to get as far away from the voice as possible. "I… I doubt it. Friends don't threaten to kill each other, do they?"

The stranger let out a harsh bark of cold laughter. "Your naivety would be heartwarming, had I a heart to thaw. There are only friends and enemies. I hold you no ill will, so I must be the former."

Grimacing, she grabbed the grimy pillow from the stone bench and hugged it to her chest. "I don't care. Please… just leave me alone."

"No," he breathed silkily. "Not until I get what I want."

"What…what you want?" growled Harry incredulously, suddenly feeling furious. "What more can anyone take from me?"

A flood of tumultuous power poured into the cell, causing her head to throb painfully.

When he next spoke, the stranger's words were dripping with malice. "Don't tempt me, girl. You have so much that I could strip away from you; simple things that you don't value until they're gone."

Harry sneered. "Oh yeah? Like what? My life? Go ahead… kill me. I don't have anything left!"

"Really? You wouldn't mind then if I borrowed your flesh."

The tip of the wand ignited and the opposite corner was thrown into a wash of brilliant light.

Harry clapped her hands over her mouth to keep herself from screaming.

It was a man… yet, it wasn't a man at all.

It was a monster; a mutilated, nightmarish monster.

One of the man's arms and both of his legs were made of the same silvery substance as his substitute fingers. What was left of his skin was waxy and dry, stretching tightly over an emaciated, skeletal frame. Most of the flesh on his upper-torso had been torn away. Harry could see bone, organs, and muscle through the wounds. Even though his ribcage had been totally removed… his body didn't bleed, nor did his insides slide from his chest. His blood flowed over the broken tissue as if the veins and arteries that carried it were still intact.

The worst of the mutilation, however, was on his face. He had one working eye, while the other lay dead in its socket, blackened and crusted over. His jaw hung loose, attached only by a few weak threads of sinewy skin where his cheeks had once been. His teeth were broken and grimy, looking more like jagged fangs than incisors or molars. His tongue, nose, lips, and ears were all missing, leaving only raw, bloodied holes in their absence.

"Terrifying, is it not?" asked the disfigured man, his voice emanating not from the lipless mouth, which remained unmoving, but from the bright tip of the wand he carried. "I never dreamed that the price for my freedom would be so steep. To be confined to a mutilated body that never heals is a nightmare far beyond your comprehension. Be thankful for what you have, girl."

Swallowing the bile that rose in her throat at the sight of the man's insides shifting about, Harry quietly asked, "D-Does it hurt?"

It was strange to hear a full-bellied laugh when the man laughing hadn't moved or shown expression in the slightest. His one electric-blue eye roamed freely in its socket and his breathing remained steady, but apart from that, the man could have been as lifeless as a corpse.

"It is agony," he said slowly. "Now… do be silent and let me get what I came for."

"What did you come for?" asked Harry with a shudder, tearing her eyes away from his face, unable to stare at it any longer. "And… how did you get in?"

The monstrosity raised its hand, holding up a small pendant. "A portkey of ancient design, forged from Creation magic. No mere ward may prevent its passage. As to my appearance in your cell… well, it's just a little check-up; I thought I'd see how you're coming along. In fact… I think I have all I need. Your pure heart hasn't blackened quite yet… but it's so very close. I can almost feel the stone in my hand!"

Harry gasped as she sensed a tendril of thought rapidly retreating from her mind. His touch was impossibly light; she hadn't felt him at all.

The stranger chuckled dryly. "I must say… I'm impressed that you've lasted even this long. Those that bear the lightning scar so rarely tread within the light, each almost always meeting a rather… sticky… end."

Before Harry could ask what he meant, the skeletal man stood and doused his wand.

"Farewell, Harry Potter. You know, you really should be keeping a more watchful eye on the shadows… Nightmares far worse than I are lurking just out of sight."

"Wait," whispered Harry sharply. "Who are you? What do you want with me?"

The stranger leveled her with his penetrating electric-blue stare, as if he were measuring her worth, and whispered harshly, "I could care less about you, girl. You are merely a convenient tool that I shall use to my liking. Apart from that cloak of yours, I would say that you're relatively insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Now… as to my name, I think you shall know me only as… Nitwit. Yes… Albus will enjoy that."

The pendant the man was holding blackened, emitting a wash of shadowy light that steadily began to creep up his arm. Within seconds he was nothing more than a floating electric-blue eye, twinkling malevolently in the dim glare from outside the cell.

The eye slowly fluttered shut… and the stranger vanished into the darkness.

Harry sighed in relief as the magic that had been pouring from the man in waves tapered off and the throbbing in her head subsided. Huddling her knees to her chest, she tried to put this new puzzling dilemma out of her already muddled thoughts.

One thing at a time…

Closing her eyes and feeling numb, Harry flipped the hourglass and slipped into her memory. The freckled girl sitting beside her on the station bench wasn't nearly as loving and comforting as the real thing, but it was all she was going to get in this dingy cell.

Harry sniffled weakly, brushing her charm bracelet against her cheek.

I'm never going to see you again, am I?

0000

Luna sat down in the soft earth between the twin slabs of stone, one slightly worn down by harsh weather, the other freshly hewn.

It was a beautiful day… such a beautiful day… perfect for plimping. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and the sun shone brightly down upon the buttercups that littered the ground, casting a soft yellow glare onto the white marble stones. A gentle breeze blew the dirigible plums back and forth in a mesmerizing display of natural grace.

Trailing her fingers along the names carved into the stones, Luna whispered, "You'll be with me… won't you? Wherever I go?"

A breeze whirled around her, tossing her hair into her eyes. The chill touch of the wind lingered on her cheeks long after the gust had calmed, as if to say…

'Always.'

Letting her eyelids droop closed, Luna turned her face towards the sky. As the warm sunshine beat down upon her skin, a tune bounced around in her head much like the light bouncing off the buttercups.

Ohhh… a plimpy one or two or three…

A fat raindrop splashed down the side of her cheek. The words spilled past her lips as another droplet followed the first.

"A plimpy I would like to see."

She stuck out her tongue to lap at the little bead of water as it passed by her mouth. The rain tasted far saltier than normal rain...

But she didn't let it bother her.

It was such a beautiful day after all; far too beautiful to let anything spoil it.

A beautiful day to say goodbye…

…

"Erm… Luna?"

Her eyes popped open. She must have fallen asleep, for twilight's last whispers were sinking on the horizon. The faintest hint of a fruity aroma, mingling with the plums and bananas, tickled at her nostrils.

"Hello, Ginny," she said softly, recognizing the familiar presence. "It's very nice to see you. I feared the Aurors would feed you to Minister Fudge's private army of Heliopaths. I'm quite glad they didn't. Did they let Harry out as well?"

Ginny didn't answer. She merely stood at the gate, staring sullenly down at her.

Luna waved the thickening silence away before it became too much to bear. "I'm quite alright, Ginevra. Come… join me. Its a beautiful night. There's not much room, but I don't think Mummy will mind if you sit on her."

Ginny sank down beside her. "I don't mean to interrupt. It's just... you've been ignoring my letters. And I… I wanted to talk to you before they get the train up and running. I'm… I'm really…"

Luna patted the girl's knee gently as she trailed off. "Daddy is happy now. He's with Mummy… and they're both with me. There's no need for sad faces."

The redhead closed her eyes and sank back into the tall grass. "I could have done-"

"I don't think so," said Luna mildly, cutting her off. "She's much stronger than you are... and he's much stronger than she is."

Ginny's freckled face scrunched indignantly, before slowly falling into a resigned frown. "I'm so sorry, Luna."

Luna smiled lightly. "Please don't be. They wouldn't want that."

Sighing heavily, Ginny turned away from her and it wasn't until the last trace of sunlight had disappeared behind the tree when the redhead spoke again.

"Luna? You… You don't blame her, do you?"

A flash of green eyes blazed across Luna's vision and an imaginary pair of silky lips pressed light kisses up her neck. She swallowed the moan that bubbled in her throat and slowly shook her head.

"No... I don't. I couldn't even if I wanted to. She's... She's..."

My Goddess.

Ginny turned back over. "I know Harry would do absolutely anything to change what happened if she could. She knows what it's like."

A heavy raindrop splashed down on Luna's cheek from the cloudless, starry sky. "Yes… she does, doesn't she? We're very much alike now. Perhaps… Perhaps I could live with Harry... if she isn't fed to the Heliopaths, that is."

Ginny fidgeted uncomfortably, before slowly sitting up. "Don't stay here alone again tonight. Come to the Burrow."

0000

So that's it for now.

The wait for the next will most certainly not be too long. You can rest easy knowing that I already have another 10k words written… I just don't like them yet.

Do drop a review.

Murder!

Intrigue!

Luna!