A/N: Hello again
A/N: Hello again. Listens for the echo in a room devoid of readers I think if I were to win an award, it would be an award given to the person least capable of seeing a story through to its finish in a timely manner. If any of you reading this were reading the story a couple of years ago, you have my deepest apologies. I know how it feels to be left hanging, and it's not good. Anyway, without further ado, here is, at long last, the next chapter!
Chapter 28
Harry had been rather surprised when Lucy had come reeling around a bookshelf in the library to plunk herself down across from him at the table at which he was currently diligently at work. The idea had been to get a start on writing thirteen inches about wizarding superstitions for Professor Binns. According to the book Harry had been reading, thirteen was also considered an unlucky number in the wizarding world. He was therefore puzzled as to why Binns had assigned that exact number as the length of the essay. Perhaps he had forgotten. Knowing Binns, it wouldn't have been at all surprising.
"Harry!" Lucy's voice was hushed but full of urgency.
"Oh! Lucy. Hi." Harry adjusted his glasses and peered at the flushed girl who had just plopped into the chair across from him.
Now that she was actually facing him, Harry thought that Lucy didn't seem quite as overexcited as she had been upon her entry. "Er…well…I've been—I've been thinking a lot about that night," Lucy glanced up at Harry briefly before returning her eyes to the wooden tabletop, "You know…when…when I attacked Hermione." It was clear that the mention of the occurrence pained the blond girl quite a bit. She took a steadying breath. "Anyway, the thing is, I think I may have remembered the incantation that…that took…that put Hermione into the state she's in now."
Harry had completely forgotten about his superstition essay; quill and parchment lay unnoticed, as he stared avidly at Lucy. "Really?!"
"Yes. I…I think so." Lucy chanced a look over her shoulder, a testament to her nervousness, before refocusing on Harry." I think it was 'soulus evaporatus.'"
He was no Hermione, but Harry didn't need Hermione's brains to tell him that the incantation Lucy had just given him was something really horrid. "How are we supposed to fix that?" he mumbled, almost more to himself than to Lucy, but she responded by reaching under the table and into her bag, setting a large book onto the table between them.
"I think that this might help."
Harry pulled the book towards him and opened the fading cover. Bold red lettering jumped out at him from the yellowing title page, "A Collection of Dark Curses and Their Counter-Curses by E. E. Mebbley."
"There's an index in the back," Lucy said, sounding eager to be of help, suddenly on the side of the counter-curser rather than in the role of curser.
As Harry flipped to the back of the ancient volume, he suddenly remembered something peculiar. "Lucy?"
"Hmm?' Lucy's blue eyes met his green ones.
"Early on, I mean, when we were talking about Quidditch at the beginning of term, you said you lived with your parents—that they were supposed to send you your broomstick…" Harry trailed off, his question palpable. Looking at Lucy, he noticed that she looked vaguely unsettled.
"I did. I know. I…it's…I try to pretend that I have a normal family when I'm around people I don't know very well. My situation is very…" Lucy seemed to be searching for the right word. Finally, she shrugged, "complicated."
Something struck Harry as odd about it all. Certainly Lucy's explanation made sense to him: not having parents himself made Harry all too familiar with how much of an outsider it made him feel. Why, he even lived with his aunt…and uncle… His head snapped up.
"Harry?"
"What? Oh…er….nothing. Listen, this is fantastic. I've got to let Ron and Ginny know. They'll be absolutely ecstatic."
"What will I be ecstatic about?" A bright orange head appeared, connected to the tall, gangly body that was Ron Weasley.
"Lucy just—Lucy?" The girl seemed to have disappeared. Harry brushed it off and turned his attention back to his best mate. "Lucy thinks she remembered something about the night Hermione was attacked."
"What?! But…but how? They were all memory charmed!" Ron stood agog.
Harry realized he was entering dangerous territory considering his promise of silence to Lucy. "She, er, must not have gotten the brunt of the spell. Anyway, a bit of memory seems to have trickled back to her."
Ron was just standing there looking as though Christmas had come early. Harry was not even sure whether his friend had heard his explanation. "Ron. Ron?"
Slowly Ron's eyes refocused. A grin spread across his face. "Harry, this is bloody fantastic!"
Harry grinned too and rumpled his hair. "It is. Go get Ginny and bring her back here. I want to tell you both at the same time."
"But…" Ron looked torn. It was obvious that he really wanted to know, but that he was also thinking about what his younger sister would do to him if she found out he'd been privy to some information that she hadn't been.
"Ron, just go! I'll be waiting right here." Harry leaned back into his chair for good measure.
Ron didn't need further urging. He was out of the library like a shot, though not without earning a disapproving glare from Madam Pince who'd had a whole stack of neatly organized file cards blown willy-nilly at Ron's passing. "Sorry, Madam Pince! Got to go. In a bit of a hurry," he'd called over his shoulder as he'd pushed open the heavy doors that led to the corridor.
Harry snorted, momentarily amused by Ron's enthusiasm. He sobered a minute later, however, as he thought about his exchange with Lucy. An idea was forming in his mind and he didn't particularly like it. If he were right…well, he was going to have to be careful not to underestimate the power behind the whole chain of events. Whoever was orchestrating it all was not messing around—especially, thought Harry, if my suspicions are correct.
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Ginny was torn. She was, of course, unbelievably pleased that, with a bit of luck, they'd have Hermione walking and talking again by morning, but her mood was darkened slightly by the conversation she'd overheard between Malfoy and Zabini. She'd been letting herself adjust far too quickly to this new Malfoy, something for which she mentally chastised herself. Something was up. Ginny corrected herself, something more was up. Clearly from here on out, she'd proceed with more caution, and like hell if she was ever going to catch herself with her lips on Malfoy's again.
"Well, well, well. Hello Weasley." Dammit. Couldn't fate ever once intervene for the better? Ginny raised her eyes to see Blaise Zabini lounging against a suit of armor, looking as though he couldn't have found a better resting spot.
"Zabini," she said curtly, barely sparing the boy a glance, but apparently Zabini wasn't having any of that. He stepped smoothly away from the armor and directly into Ginny's path, forcing her to stop short.
"I think we have a mutual friend, Weasley." Zabini's eyes were narrowed, but they were not so narrow that Ginny couldn't detect a spark of malicious humor dancing in their dark depths.
"Is that so? I doubt it. I don't tend to extend the hand of friendship to any in your crowd, Zabini. Now, if you will excuse me—"
"Not so fast. What's the rush, anyway? It's not like a potion is bubbling over anywhere." Zabini's voice was even, with only a hint of a jab hidden in his words.
Ginny felt her heart pause in spite of herself. How many people had Malfoy told? "You're right. It isn't. But it is as though I've got people who are waiting to meet me." She glared up at the older boy, wishing desperately that she were taller. However, it was then that Ginny realized that Zabini had inadvertently given up the game. If he knew about the cauldron in Myrtle's toilet, then quite clearly Malfoy was involving Zabini for a reason. Obviously Malfoy was to be anything but trusted. If the conversation earlier hadn't made that crystal clear, Zabini's knowledge here did.
"They can wait. I'm speaking of Draco Malfoy. You're…acquainted with him, I believe?" Ginny was aware of how closely Zabini was watching her and was determined not to show any reaction.
"Yes. He's an insufferable git. Now would you please move out of my way?" She stared at the boy in her path, face stoic.
It was as though Blaise Zabini hadn't heard anything past the 'yes.' "He wants you to meet him. Tonight at one. In the classroom," he looked at her, "He says you know where that is. He's got something he wants to tell you." With that said, Zabini turned his back on Ginny and disappeared down the corridor, leaving the redheaded Gryffindor in his wake, her mind spinning furiously.
She wanted to meet Malfoy. Sort of. However, there was no question in her mind about being present for waking Hermione. That came first. Malfoy was simply going to have to deal with being stood-up. It would serve him right, anyway. Clearly first impressions were correct in this case: Malfoy was a sneaking, slimy, deceptive…Ginny cut the list short, feeling sure she could go on with it for days. She'd think of something to get back at him, and when she did…
She was at the portrait. Surprisingly, Harry was there too, pacing in front of the Fat Lady who was making weak protests about his back and forth movement; something about a headache.
"Hiya. Harry. I thought you and Ron had to find Madam Hooch?"
"Oh, Ginny. Good. Just the person I was waiting for. And we did. Only she wasn't about so we came back here. You took awhile." He glanced at her sharply.
"Yeah, well. Unpleasant people go to this school and one can't help but run into them from time to time. Anyway, what's up, Harry?"
Harry looked as though he'd like to ask more questions, but the expression on Ginny's face kept him from doing it. "I'm beginning to wonder about Lucy. I have this sense that something is just not right with her."
"I thought we'd established that. It's that whole, having an Osembleraniat possess you, thing," Ginny quipped.
"No, I'm serious, Gin. First, at the start of term, she tells me she's got two loving parents who are going to send her her broomstick as soon as they can, then it comes out that she's actually living with some mysterious, demented uncle. Then there's the fact that she supposedly just moved here from Wales, but this uncle of hers is English—and I think we both have our suspicions about him—so where was she really before? And if she was in Wales, who was she with? Things aren't adding up. And don't you think it a bit peculiar that we have such a common foundation upon which to relate?" Harry looked energized.
"What common foundation?" Ginny was more or less following, but having to take some time to put together everything her friend was saying.
"Well, that we're both orphans living with cruel uncles. In my case there's an aunt, too, but you get the point. Something's off." Harry glanced at Ginny, whose eyes were narrowed in thought..
"I think you might be right, and I certainly think that there's a whole lot more to this mess than we initially thought. It seems to run kind of deep, to say the least."
Harry nodded. "So, Ginny, who did you run into in the corridor just now, then?"
"Oh look! It's Luna! Hey, Luna!" Ginny dashed off to meet her friend, leaving Harry behind and befuddled. Things were certainly running deep as it seemed that Ginny was in the thick of something herself.
A/N: Phew. Okay you guys. Again, my apologies. I mean, who DOES this. Starts a fic and then, after a couple of years, abandons it, only to begin writing again another couple of years down the line? I know, I know, I'm crazy. I really DO want to finish this one day, though.
