As always, I'm sorry this took so long, and thank you so much for your patience! All the thank you's in the world aren't enough to show you all how much I appreciate your support.
Next update will be out soon! No, seriously, I mean it. You can expect an update in the next two weeks. Feel free to hound me with pitchforks if I don't deliver on that promise.
22 November 1942 — 23 November 1942
The force of the blast knocked Ginny to the ground. She tried to get up, but thick black smoke had billowed into the bar, surrounding her.
As she groped in the dark, trying not to cut herself on the shards of broken glass, the first thing she heard was the eerie chanting. There was no mistaking it now; it seemed to come from all sides, jubilant voices crying out the unfamiliar words.
There were other voices too — wordless shouting, incomprehensible sobs. But it was Alphard's voice that rose above the chaos, loud and tearing as he yelled, "RAOUL! RAOUL! RAOUL!"
Ginny's stomach turned over. She didn't know if it was the smoke or the firewhisky or the sudden desperate fear that something terrible had happened to Alphard, but she was sure she was going to be sick.
George had screamed like that. So did Ron. Ginny remembered, because she had screamed too, hadn't she, when Mum, Fred, Harry —
Her hand was bleeding. With shaky fingers — she was shaking, why was she shaking? — Ginny took out the tiny bits of glass piercing her palm, then reached for her wand.
"Lumo —"
A hand gripped her arm and yanked her upright.
"Do you want to get us killed?" hissed Riddle, right in her ear. The next thing she knew, he was holding her wand and pulling her, hard, so that their backs were against the wall.
"Oi!" cried Ginny. "Give that back!"
"Shh!"
"Did you just shush me —"
An almost inhuman roar came from the smog, a flash of green light, and then —
Thud.
"What was that?" demanded Ginny. She turned her head this way and that, trying to see something, but the darkness pressed on her eyes like a weightless veil. "Who was that? Riddle, what —"
"We have to go," muttered Riddle frantically. "There's a secret passage nearby that can take us back to the castle —"
"How do you know that?" she said, dazed but still managing to be annoyed with Riddle for knowing such a thing.
"Does it matter? We need to leave now. This is hardly the time —"
"I'm not going anywhere with you! Give me back my wand, you arse —"
"For God's sake, keep your voice down!"
"Not until you —"
There was another flash of light, briefly silhouetting the upturned tables and chairs and the hooded figures in the centre of the room. Another shout, and this time a jet of red light answered the green.
Alphard was farther away now, still shouting, still not being answered.
"We need to leave," Riddle said again, and Ginny could hear the edge in his voice — something familiar, something like fear.
"I'm not heading out without Alphard."
"You don't hear him shouting for you, do you?" said Riddle scathingly. "He'll be beyond help by the time you get to him, standing out in the open —"
"Don't say that —"
Riddle muttered something under his breath, so quickly that Ginny wondered if he was casting a spell. Before she could pick apart the words, he pulled her down to the floor, his grip painfully tight as he dragged her along.
Oh. They were crawling now. Ginny couldn't see a thing, but somehow Riddle was able to make a path for them, clear enough to avoid the broken glass and toppled furniture.
"You can see where we're going?" she asked.
"Clearly."
"How? D'you use a spell?"
Riddle made an irritated noise. Even in the dark, she could see him cast his gaze to the ceiling in exasperation.
"What else could I have used?" he said.
"Well, there's a potion for night-vision, isn't there?"
"Oh sure, I'll brew some right up, shall I? Because I just happen to have moly and fluxweed lying around —"
"Fuck you, Riddle," she said, as a jet of orange light soared over their heads. "What's the spell?"
"You don't know?"
"I wouldn't be asking if I did," she said defensively. "Excuse me if I don't make a habit of messing about in the Restricted Se —"
Riddle pulled her upright again and Ginny found herself wrenched into another room. The sound of a lock clicking shut had her snatching her arm away and glaring at what she assumed was Riddle's figure.
"Where are we?" she said, reaching gropingly for a wall or a counter or anything that wasn't Riddle-shaped to stop her swaying. "This isn't the secret passage."
"It isn't. This is the girls' bathroom."
Ginny paused, trying to make sense of that. "We've got to stop meeting like this, Tom."
Then she started giggling. She wasn't really sure why, but it all just seemed so absurdly funny. Something in her had been unhinged, and laughter spilled out of her even as she tried to swallow it back.
"You are completely pissed," said Riddle slowly. She could only vaguely see his shape in the dark room, but she could imagine the scowl on his face so clearly that she had to bite her tongue to hold back another peal of laughter.
"I'm not completely pissed," snorted Ginny. Her hand found the wall behind her and she staggered back, leaning against it. "I reckon I can still take out a dozen of them out there. With my wand. Where's my wand?"
"So this is normal for you, laughing at your own jokes? I suppose someone has to."
"Fuck you," she said, unable to think of a better comeback. "I'm hilarious and you know it."
There was a sudden crash.
No, there were several, right outside the door — objects banging together and crashing down to the floor. Tables, maybe. Or overturned chairs. Or bodies.
Her manic laughter died in her throat.
There were more screams now. More shouts. The chanting was growing louder.
And Alphard was still out there. Was that his voice, shouting unintelligibly on the other side? Was that him, lashing out and screaming as though he knew nothing else?
Everything fell away, seemed to become smaller, shrink. Riddle was saying something to her, but Ginny couldn't hear him because her ears were ringing, a hiss-like static, broken up by that scream, just outside the bathroom door.
Outside? Was it outside?
It was too dark to see. Outside could mean anything, could be anywhere.
Hog's Head or Hogwarts — how could she be certain when all she could see was darkness?
For all she knew, outside could be the Great Hall, where George and Percy were still hunched over Fred's body. Where Ron and Hermione had screamed when they saw Harry cradled in Hagrid's arms. Where Ginny, too, had screamed as her mother fell to the pavement, as the Killing Curse leapt off her tongue, left her wand, found its mark. Where Voldemort toppled to the ground with mundane finality, and the watching crowd roared, and the battle began anew — began as if it would never end.
Would it end? Could it?
Ginny could feel it now, that scream. It was winding itself around her throat, pulling tighter and tighter as it chased its own end.
Hog's Head or the Great Hall, Hogsmeade or Hogwarts. Did it matter where she was? It was all the same, wasn't it?
Ginny had thought she would die then, when the Killing Curse left her lips. Had thought she would fall as Voldemort fell. Had thought that, as she crumpled over Harry's body, that she would stay there and never get back up.
It had seemed fitting then, that it should end for her the way it had begun. The way it could have ended years ago, deep in the Chamber, with the memory of a boy looming over her. And then, only weeks ago, with that same boy — the same but different, younger and more afraid.
And now, again, with Tom Riddle, who seemed to be pacing restlessly and making dramatic hand gestures.
Strange, how it was always him. She could very well die here, in this too dark bathroom of an unkempt bar, and still — it just had to be with Riddle.
Ginny laughed again.
Riddle stopped pacing. She didn't need to see him to know he was staring at her incredulously.
But it was funny, wasn't it? That all those times she could have died — had believed she would — it was always with Riddle. And yet she had survived, hadn't she? Survived the war, survived the Chamber twice, and now —
Yes. Yes, she could survive this too.
"What are you laughing about now?" said Riddle. He was standing in front of her, close enough that she could make out his eyes and that familiar scowl.
"I was thank — thinking it'd be bloody stupid if we die here," said Ginny. She could feel that scream fading, quieting, until all she could hear was her voice echoing against the bathroom walls. "And because it's so bloody stupid, it isn't happening. What about you — what's going on in that head of yours?"
Riddle's scowl deepened. She hadn't been expecting a response, but she hadn't thought he would tense up either.
Never mind that now. Ginny took her steadying hand off the wall and began to inch closer towards, presumably, the door.
"What are you doing?" asked Riddle suspiciously.
"You were the one saying we had to leave."
"We can't go out there without a plan."
"I have a plan," she said, waving her hand impatiently. "Disarm some goons, find Alphard —"
"You're blind drunk, Smith. Quite literally."
"Only because you won't tell me your stupid night-vision spell."
"Aspectu Noctis," sighed Riddle. Probably rolled his eyes too, that prat.
Ginny repeated the words, waving her wand — had she been holding it this whole time? — in the general direction of her face. Nothing happened. She tried again, but the room stayed stubbornly dark. Maybe because her every s came out slightly slurred.
She heard another sigh, and then Riddle was blocking her way. He took hold of her chin, drawing her eyes back to his, and recited the incantation, the words falling against her skin in a warm flutter. At once, the blurred edges of his face sharpened to focus, the darkness now tinged with green.
"You're bleeding," he said as he stepped back, staring at the hand gripping her wand.
"Oh," she said, following his gaze. She had forgotten about that too.
"Episkey."
There was a faint stinging sensation on her palm, and the wound was gone.
"You're not drunk," said Ginny, with a distinct sense that this wasn't fair.
"No."
"But you were drinking. I saw you drinking."
"Not as much as you, obviously."
"Fuck you."
"You've said that," drawled Riddle. He was pacing again. "We need a plan," he repeated, and once more she heard the panicked edge in his voice. "There's no way we can get back to the castle without attracting their attention — whoever they are. Do you know who they are? Did you know they were coming?"
"Don't be an idiot," Ginny snapped. Outside, there were still those roaring voices, howling spells and non-magical curses. "Alphard's still out there. I'm not leaving without him."
"You've Seen it, have you?" said Riddle angrily. "Some Seer you turned out to be. You should have known this was coming! How can you not know —"
"Because I don't! I don't know everything! Is that what you want to hear, Riddle? I don't know! I don't know anything!"
It cost Ginny something to admit that, to hear herself say it aloud. Furious, she made to move towards the door, but he grabbed her forearm as she tried to reach for the lock.
"If I were you, Smith, I'd stay here and consider my options, instead of charging out like some foolhardy Gryffindor —"
"And if I were you, Riddle, so would I. You want to stay here then be my guest, but I'm not going to stand around twiddling my thumbs like some coward —"
"I will not die!" hissed Riddle, low and dark. Ginny pulled her arm away and stared as the words poured out of him in a torrent. "Do you hear me? Voldemort or no Voldemort, I will not perish! Not by your hand and certainly not today — I will not!"
There was a sudden, loud crackling sound, then the bathroom stalls burst into flames. For a second, Ginny thought someone was there with them, or that the fire came from outside through the walls, but no — the rapidly spreading flames were the sort of magic that came before Hogwarts, before wands and spells, before control.
The fire came from Riddle.
He may be more sober than Ginny, but it was suddenly clear to her he wasn't nearly sober enough. From the way his eyes widened, it seemed Riddle knew it too.
"You sure you want to stay here?" she said dryly.
But Riddle was still gaping at the fire, dancing red and orange along the walls. She had to shake him to get his attention, and he started like a man waking from a dream.
"How's that plan coming along?" she said, peering at him. Maybe it was the spell or the accidental fire, but her night-vision was beginning to flicker.
"When I open the door," said Riddle commandingly, grabbing Ginny's arm again, "we go straight along the wall to the window —"
"I'm going after Alphard."
He blew out a breath, and before Ginny could figure out what it meant, he threw open the door.
As they hurried along the wall, she tried to look for Alphard among the rubble. The only person she could see that was still standing was Aberforth, shouting curses at the hooded figures, one after the other.
"Where's Al —"
"I see him," said Riddle sourly. They had reached the blown-in window, where the smoke had dissipated somewhat. "Go. I'll get him."
"But I —"
"Just get out before I change my mind."
Ginny wanted to protest, but the night-vision charm had worn off completely. She almost didn't notice Riddle darting across the bar; all she could see was Aberforth's outline, outnumbered but fighting fiercely. For a moment, she almost mistook him for Dumbledore.
With some reluctance — there was still too much smog inside to see where Riddle and Alphard were — Ginny scrambled onto the ledge and dropped to the ground. It was only a few feet, but she felt her head spin as her knees took the force of the impact. She blinked, her eyes watering, trying to adjust to the moonlight.
Then she froze. Looking up, she saw figures on broomsticks, silhouetted against the full moon. They were laughing, cackling, chanting, as they rained curses and blue fire down onto the village below.
And there were more of them, seemingly coming from all directions, swooping towards Hogsmeade.
Just as Ginny gathered her bearings, her heart still hammering in her chest, Alphard came flying through the window. He landed on his back, narrowly missing her.
"He pushed me!" he cried as she pulled him to his feet.
"He was being difficult," said Riddle, poking his head out. "Give me a hand down, will you?"
Ginny didn't. "Did you push him?"
Riddle rolled his eyes and climbed out the window himself. He wobbled only slightly as he landed on his feet.
"He kept insisting we check the bar," he said. Ginny took that as a yes.
"Because I was looking for Raoul!" said Alphard angrily.
Riddle ignored him. "What now?" he said to Ginny.
"We look for Lestrange," she answered.
"I don't know why I bother," grumbled Riddle. He grabbed Alphard by the collar as Alphard tried to climb back inside. "Merlin's beard, don't start that again," he said irritably. "Lestrange isn't there."
"You don't know that!" Alphard growled. "You didn't let me check!"
"Because everyone left, you imbecile! There's no one there! So either Lestrange was blown to pieces —"
Alphard let out a low, distressed moan. Ginny shot Riddle a warning look.
"— or he ran off somewhere and stayed hidden."
"Do you even know him? Raoul," said Alphard sharply, "would never run off."
"He ran off on you, didn't he?"
Alphard lunged, but Ginny was faster; she stepped between them, holding them back.
"All right!" she said, with a furious glance at Riddle. "If you two don't shut it right now, I'll kill you both myself!"
"He started it!" said Alphard.
"How drunk are you?" scoffed Riddle.
"New plan," Ginny said loudly. "If Lestrange isn't here —"
"But we don't know —" Alphard tried to say.
"If he isn't here," she carried on, with a pointed look, "where would he go?"
"If he had any semblance of sense —" Riddle began, at the same time as Alphard said, "Wherever the main action is."
"Then that's where we'll go." Ginny took out her wand and pointed to the sky. "They're flying over High Street. I reckon that's where the fighting's at now."
"You're both mad," said Riddle, with a defeated sigh.
"You said you know the song," Ginny cut in, turning to Alphard, before Riddle could argue any more. At Alphard's blank look, she added testily, "The one they're singing, Alphard."
"Oh!" he said. "Oh, right. It's a Walpurgis Night song."
Walpurgis. The name stirred something in Ginny's memory. She knew it from somewhere — maybe something she had read in a book or heard from Binns in History of Magic.
"Last I checked," said Riddle doubtfully, "Walpurgis is in the spring."
"Early celebrations?" suggested Alphard.
"Some celebration," scoffed Ginny.
Riddle cocked his head to one side, his eyes slightly unfocused as if trained on some distant horizon.
"It's a full moon," he muttered.
"So?" said Ginny.
"You don't see it?"
Alphard looked up. "Yes, we can see it —"
"The connection," said Riddle impatiently, "between the phase of the moon and the Walpurgis song."
"Who cares?" said Ginny. "Maybe they're just idiots who can't read a calendar."
Riddle frowned at her. She thought he looked a little confused, but the expression was shuttered away as he turned to Alphard. "Your family — you know just as much about Dark magic as the Lestranges —"
He didn't get a chance to finish. Alphard, eyes wide, began running towards High Street, shouting Lestrange's name as he went.
Ginny cast a Shield Charm over their heads, holding her wand up like an umbrella. "Let's go."
"Must we?" said Riddle tiredly. He followed her anyway.
They sprinted after Alphard, down the deserted road. Ginny staggered a little as she tried to maintain her Shield. It wasn't as properly cast as she'd hoped, appearing rather opaque instead of the usual translucent blue.
"You know what's going on, don't you?" she said, panting a little as she tried to pick up her pace. They were still a block from High Street, but already she could hear the chaos of screams and wandfire, could see the sky glowing from the flickering spell-light below.
"I'm surprised you don't," said Riddle.
"Enlighten me, then. Obviously this has something to do with Grindelwald's acolytes."
"It's more than just the Alliance —"
As if summoned, a masked figure came barrelling away from High Street, towards them. Alphard, still shouting for Lestrange, seemed unaware of the man in his path.
Ginny immediately brought down her Shield between Alphard and the masked man before the latter could raise his wand.
"Stupefy!" shouted Riddle, and the man crumpled to the ground. The force of the spell knocked Alphard off his feet.
Ginny rushed towards him. "You okay?"
"Yeah," said Alphard shakily as she helped him up. "Yeah — er — thanks, Rid —"
"Next time watch where you're going," said Riddle nastily.
Before Alphard could retort, streaks of blue fire came from the sky. They had drawn the attention of one of the flying figures, who had been circling the edge of High Street. Ginny's Shield wavered under the deluge of spells, but Alphard quickly cast another underneath it. It was no better than hers had been, and Ginny knew it wouldn't hold for long.
More black shapes emerged around them, from above and through the trees, blocking their way left and right. Eyes glinted through hoods and masks, lit wand-tips pointing at their slowly faltering Shield.
Ginny's stomach plummeted sickeningly. Beside her, Riddle had gone perfectly still, all colour drained from his face. They were trapped and outnumbered three to one.
"Fuck," she said. Someone had to say it.
"What do we do?" said Alphard, sounding frantic.
They had a moment to lock eyes. Then the dark-robed figures were blurs of motion — the barrage of spells came all at once, and back-to-back, they received their charge.
There was no time to think, no time to second-guess. Ginny's returning fire left her wand before she knew what they were. Her arm rose and fell, wheeling in sweeps as wandfire came at her from a bewildering variety of angles. Behind her, Riddle seemed to be taking on everyone within reach, indiscriminate with his spells, moving so quickly he looked like he was gliding. Next to him, Alphard was muttering incantations, alternating Stunning Spells and Shields and less magical curses.
Ginny fell back and dodged a yellow whip from one of the masked men, then retaliated with a wordless Bat-Bogey Hex. Another aimed a jet of red light at her, which she sent wide, then turned her Shield into an arcing slash at his face. It nicked the side of his mask and he stumbled away, just as one of Riddle's constructs — a snake, it looked like — leapt from the ground and wound itself around the man's arms and torso.
She risked a look at Alphard and saw him Disarming one of the acolytes, whose purple fire missed Riddle by an inch. A silent, invisible shove from Riddle's wand sent the hooded figure flying backwards, knocking another in the same blast. Ginny had to hastily cast a Shield around Alphard to make sure he wasn't caught in the crossfire.
Two more rushed at them, and though she was able Stun one, the other slashed at her with a spell she didn't recognize, and it made her arm buzz and sting. She backed off with a yelp of pain, trying to will feeling back into her numbing fingers as Riddle conjured a spray of what looked like hot oil towards the acolyte.
Four down and five left standing, but there were still too many attacks to keep track of. Ginny had lost all feeling on her right arm, and it hung uselessly at her side as she dodged a stream of black light levelled at her face, so close she heard it whistle past her ear —
Only to take a blow to the shoulder a second later, bumping into Riddle's back as she pitched forward and landed on her knees.
Riddle, too, staggered to the ground. One leg of his trousers appeared burnt and blackened. Ginny saw blood trickling down his temple and the dark fury on his face as he pushed himself upright, and suddenly the Reductor Curse shot from his wand.
It would've met its mark had Ginny not launched herself across the ground and grabbed the hooded figure around the knees, causing him to topple and his next curse to go awry. She Stunned him before he could scramble to his feet, then she turned towards Riddle.
Anger took hold of her hand, guiding it as she aimed. And without a second thought — without even a first thought — Ginny Disarmed him, and Riddle's wand came flying from his hand to her own.
Riddle gaped at her, confused then shocked then furious, but Ginny didn't care. She cast a Shield Charm around him to keep him where he was, then sent a Body-Bind at the acolyte trying to take aim at Alphard's back.
Two more, Ginny thought grimly, as Alphard Disarmed the masked man rushing towards her.
Ginny and Alphard exchanged glances, preparing for another round, when the unconscious bodies suddenly vanished. Before she could comprehend what was happening, the last of the acolytes had mounted their brooms and took flight.
The other flying figures above High Street also darted off. A flock of thestrals were in pursuit, flying after those fleeing the scene.
"Are they floating?" Alphard asked, squinting at the figures as they disappeared into the night.
Riddle, who was now leaning against a tree and trying to stand to his full height, gave him a withering glare. "They're on thestrals — the Aurors. Use your head."
A moment later, a great flash of light rose from High Street, illuminating the sky with what seemed to be a scattering of stars. Then the stars took shape, forming a bright phoenix whose wings spanned the whole of Hogsmeade, bathing them all in silver light.
"That'd be my Uncle," said Ginny, feeling a cool wave of relief wash over her.
But the relief turned to fire as she rounded on Riddle.
"Give me back my wand," he sneered at her.
"What the fuck, Riddle?" said Ginny, matching his tone. "The Reductor Curse?"
His lip curled up, baring his teeth at her. "It's not Dark magic."
"That's not the point! You shoot that at a man's head, what do you think's going to happen?"
"He won't have a chance to kill me, for one thing."
"I had your back! He wouldn't have gotten a clear shot —"
"My leg is mangled because of you!"
"Oh, grow up! You can have that fixed in the hospital wing. You can't fix a head that's been blasted to bits —"
"Those were Grindelwald's men!" His voice was high and defensive. "Do you think I give a damn what happens to them?"
"That's the problem, isn't it?" she spat. "You don't care about anyone but yourself!"
"It was my life or theirs —"
"I told you, it wouldn't have come to that! If you just stopped panicking —"
"I wasn't panicking! What I am is stuck with a useless inbred who can't string two thoughts together and a Seer who can't see the bloody future —"
"Fuck off, Riddle!"
"You fuck off!"
The words sounded so strange coming from him that Ginny was startled into silence. Though his expression didn't change, Riddle drew back — when did she get so close? — and looked away. Maybe it was her eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness, but she thought she'd never seen anyone look so blank and so mortified at the same time.
"Merlin, Morgan, and Morgause," groaned Alphard, making Ginny start. She'd almost forgotten he was there. "Can't we just leave him here?"
"Don't tempt me," said Ginny, whose brain felt sluggish with exhaustion.
"We still have to find Raoul."
"That would be easier if I had my wand," said Riddle pointedly.
"We can still leave him," said Alphard, very seriously. But he offered Riddle a steadying arm and, to her surprise, Riddle didn't bat him away.
Ginny took them in bit by bit. Riddle's typically immaculate hair was damp with sweat, and there was dried blood on one side of his face. In the light of Dumbledore's Patronus, she could see that his leg really did look mangled. There were singed looking lines that ran from his knee down his calf; if she didn't know any better, she would have thought they were claw marks.
Alphard looked only slightly better off. There were cuts along his arms and face, and a frighteningly long red line along his throat. His hair was matted with blood and appeared uneven, his expensive robes now torn and caked with dirt. Ginny knew she must have looked just as terrible.
"I don't know how to heal it," she said apologetically to Riddle, nodding at his leg. "I don't recognize the spell."
"I do, on both counts," said Riddle. Though he was sneering, she could see he was a little out of breath and struggling to keep his composure. "It's the same curse on your arm."
Ginny looked at her right arm. It had gone so numb that she hadn't realized it bore the same claw-like marks as Riddle's leg.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Nothing you'd approve of."
She grimaced. "Charming."
Ginny gave Riddle back his wand, and he cast the healing charm on his leg. The incantation didn't sound Latin or Greek or anything that would have been taught at Hogwarts.
Alphard was thinking the same. "You reckon they teach that at Durmstrang?"
"They'll teach anything at Durmstrang, from what I've heard," said Riddle as he finished on his leg. Then he looked at Ginny's arm.
"Well?" she said.
"Say please."
Ginny considered punching him, but then decided it wasn't worth having a broken hand, on top of lugging around the dead weight of her arm. They'd had enough fighting for one day.
With a great sigh, she flashed him her fakest, sweetest smile.
"Oh, Tom," she said, batting her eyes at him, "won't you be a dear and please, oh please, fix my arm?"
Alphard snickered. Riddle, rolling his eyes, cast the healing spell on her arm. Ginny felt a tingling sensation run along the length of it, and seconds later, the marks vanished, leaving only the torn cloth of her sleeve.
The worst of their injuries dealt with, Riddle straightened up, pulling at the creases and brushing the dust off his robes.
"As I was saying," he said casually, as if he hadn't been breathing hard and fighting for his life only moments ago. "There's a reason why the Alliance attacked tonight, and why they're singing Walpurgis —"
"But it can't be Walpurgis," Alphard protested. "And I'd know, because it's on Burgie's birthday, and she always —"
"And was her birthday on a full moon?"
Alphard blinked. "I don't . . . maybe? But what does that —"
"You're a Black," said Riddle exasperatedly. "If anyone should know anything about Astronomy, it's you."
Alphard shut his mouth with an audible click. He frowned up at the moon, looking pensive.
"I still don't understand," Ginny admitted. "What's so important about Walpurgis?"
"Witches' Night," said Riddle. This time, she was certain she didn't imagine the flicker of confusion that crossed his face. "That's what the Muggles call it. According to legend, it's the night when witches and wizards gather because the veil between our world and the non-magical is at its weakest, and on a night with a full moon —"
Alphard gasped.
"A night of rituals," said Alphard excitedly. "Oh, my head is so stupid! You're right! Full moons are for rituals, for — for change and transformation and — it's for rites of passage. Tonight isn't just a gathering, it's —"
"— a test," finished Riddle. "Grindelwald sent his men here — chose tonight of all nights — because this is an initiation. An induction."
A feeling of dread swept through Ginny. "Someone at Hogwarts is an acolyte?"
"Trying to be," said Alphard grimly. "If tonight's supposed to be an entrance test for the Alliance —"
"Or a recruitment," said Riddle. "Witches' Night, remember? Grindelwald is gathering followers."
"But why Hogsmeade?" said Ginny, and her voice sounded strange to her, not her own. "What's so special here?"
Riddle titled his head, his eyes focused on something in the distance. "Exactly. Why raid a village full of teenagers and aging professors?"
"You think they're looking for someone?" Alphard asked, face lighting up with realization.
Riddle nodded. "Someone special. They would have to be if Grindelwald is going through all this trouble."
"There you are!"
They jumped in surprise. Walburga Black was running towards them, her robes slightly singed and her hair loose from its complicated updo. Though she looked a little worse for wear, Ginny wouldn't have known it from the bright relief shining on her face.
"Burgie!" said Alphard just as brightly, rushing towards her and meeting her halfway. "You're all right!"
"Better than you," she said, pulling him into a hug. "God, just look at you! You're a mess! I've been worried si —"
Walburga's face seemed to collapse as she caught sight of Ginny and Riddle over Alphard's shoulder. She stepped back, lifting her perfect nose in the air.
"And you've been drinking," she said, with her usual snooty tone.
"No, I wasn't," said Alphard quickly.
"I can smell it on you," Walburga sniffed. She cast a contemptuous glance at Ginny. "Or maybe that's just the stench of the company you've been keeping these days."
Alphard winced, but Ginny had been expecting it. She peered cautiously at Riddle from the corner of her eye.
"Is this really the time —" Alphard started to say.
But Walburga went on imperiously, "Of all the girls you could have on your arm, you just had to go with a Mudblood trollop. Don't even pretend like that's not what this is. Lestrange says he saw you at —"
"Raoul?" said Alphard, perking up again. "You talked to him? Is he all right?"
"He's fine," she said, waving a dismissive hand. "Though no better than you, since he's been gallivanting about with a Mudblood of his own."
Riddle stiffened, his jaw clenched tight. Ginny grabbed a fistful of his sleeve, tugging him back, as she met Walburga's eyes.
"Blood traitor, actually," she said coolly. "If you're going to insult us, at least get it right."
"Burgie," said Alphard pleadingly, as Walburga tried to advance on Ginny. "Come on."
Walburga shot a disapproving frown at him but didn't argue. Keeping her haughty look, she turned and led Alphard down the winding lane.
Ginny looked back at Riddle, who was staring at the hand clutching his robes.
"I wasn't going to hex her," he said mulishly as she let go of his sleeve.
"I didn't say you were," said Ginny, shrugging. "Wouldn't blame you though."
Riddle lifted a brow.
"Are you giving me permission to hex Walburga Black?" he said mildly, but she thought he sounded vaguely amused.
She snorted. "Let's not get too excited now."
They started walking. Alphard and Walburga were now several steps ahead of them; by some unspoken agreement, Ginny and Riddle kept that distance as they set off for High Street. Walburga was complaining to Alphard how she'd had to sneak past some Hit Wizards to go looking for him, and how utterly arduous it had been to spend the past half hour hunkered down at the Three Broomsticks as the attacks were happening.
Only half an hour? Ginny thought. Had it only been thirty minutes? It seemed so much longer; the warm glow of the firewhisky they'd drank felt like an eternity ago.
"So what were you thinking about, back in Hog's Head?" said Ginny as they passed by Dervish and Banges.
"Nothing," said Riddle tersely, all trace of amusement gone. It was as if she'd taken an eraser and wiped the expression right off his face.
Ginny frowned. "Sheesh. It was just a question."
"You have too many of those."
"Yeah, well, so do you."
Riddle's mouth set in a hard line, his shoulders squared like he was ready for another fight. For the life of her, Ginny couldn't understand why. They pestered each other with questions all the time, and this one didn't seem that invasive to her, especially compared to the sort he asked.
Why the abrupt change? After the evening they had, she would have thought he wouldn't be in the mood for arguing or for taking offense at the smallest things. But now he was looking all severe again — not that Ginny wasn't used to that particular expression.
Even without the scowl, his features were already rather severe — pale, with sharp cheekbones and a stubborn chin. His eyes didn't help; they were an inky black, framed with dark brows that looked perpetually furrowed. They suited him, she had to admit, though she would've had a hard time imagining him smiling or acting charming, if she didn't already know he was capable of it.
"What?" said Riddle harshly.
Ginny looked away, feeling oddly warm; she hadn't realized she'd been staring. Maybe the firewhisky hadn't left her as completely as she thought.
Her gaze landed on Alphard, who was now trying to assure his sister that he was never drinking a drop of alcohol for the rest of his life.
"You came back for him," said Ginny quietly. "I didn't think you would."
"I didn't do it for him."
"You didn't do it for me either."
Riddle gave a noncommittal shrug.
"I don't know what the future holds," he said bluntly. "And I don't like not knowing."
"I'm not a crystal ball, Riddle," she said, a little annoyed.
"No. You're my insurance. You might not believe in destiny, but as long as you're alive, I'm . . ."
Riddle's voice trailed away as he stopped in his tracks. They had finally reached High Street.
With Dumbledore's Patronus above them, Hogsmeade was flooded with light, and Ginny could see every dark corner, every marker of the carnage left behind. There were thatched cottages turned into blackened husks; many more were still burning with blue flames, billowing clouds of dark smoke into the air. A group of Hit Wizards and some older students — Briseis, Ginny saw, was among them — were trying to put out the fires, as the professors and Madam Galen the matron darted from one side of the street to the other, tending to the injured.
There were other professors and Hit Wizards gathered near the steps of what used to be Spintwitches Sporting Needs, also treating the wounded, who were laid out in a row —
No . . . not the wounded . . .
"No one dies at Hogwarts," said Riddle softly. "It's not possible."
"This isn't Hogwarts," whispered Ginny, because if she said it any louder, she would scream. She might still scream; she could feel it now, like grit in her throat.
The rest of her felt numb, as if the curse on her arm had spread throughout her body. Ginny was barely aware of her own movements, not even realizing she had left Riddle's side until she clipped someone's shoulder — Lestrange, who was now hurrying towards Riddle — and by then, she found herself standing restlessly in the middle of the street.
People were moving around her, trying to comfort each other, their arms around each other's necks. She saw Ignatius Prewett herding a collection of third-years back to the castle. Malfoy was in the rear, but he broke away from the group when he saw Alphard and Walburga approach. A little way away, Margot was limping, leaning against Leonard Wright for support as they helped the townspeople set up a tent for the injured.
And suddenly Wendy was there, pulling Ginny towards them. Wendy looked exhausted, eyes red-rimmed but otherwise unhurt, and she was talking a mile a minute — asking Ginny how she was, offering assurances, telling her no one from Hogwarts had died but some had been rushed to St. Mungo's, and Odette was one of them, and the Fawley siblings, and little Orion Black —
But Ginny heard none of it. Her ears flooded with blood, a rushing sound, a hurricane trapped inside her head. Somehow, she was still moving, still walking, and she didn't understand because she couldn't feel her feet. She could only feel one thing.
That scream. It had never left her, she realized, only slunk under her skin. Now she could feel it blazing in her chest, fighting to get out.
As Wendy guided the way towards the tent, Ginny saw Dumbledore crouching over another prone figure on the ground. He exchanged a look with her as she passed. It was quick, but it was enough, and Ginny felt a little less alone out there in the middle of the wreckage.
"It's not your fight," he had told her, all those months ago.
But as she looked around her, at what was left of Hogsmeade, Ginny wondered how she could have ever believed it.
Hours and hours later, she found Dumbledore in his office, looking up at his ceiling. It had been enchanted to look like a cloudless sky, shrouding the room in the dull light of the stars.
Ginny didn't pay much attention in Astronomy, but she knew enough to recognize that this ceiling, the map of stars shining overhead, was unlike any she had been taught. It was a different sky, with different stars, different constellations.
Dumbledore didn't look at her as she settled beside him, sitting on his desk with her legs swinging. He was mouthing words to himself, so quietly she had to strain to hear them — names she didn't recognize, some that were vaguely familiar.
Listening silently to his vigil, Ginny felt a dull blow to her stomach as she realized what the sky above her was.
It wasn't a ceiling of strange constellations. It was a graveyard.
There were so many stars, so many tiny pinpricks of light, that she wondered morbidly how long this must have taken to make. How many hours did Dumbledore pore over obituaries, taking note of every name, every life lost, remembering them enough to rattle them off from memory? Did it help to keep track, to give each name a star of its own?
Through the window, Ginny saw the faint yellow of dawn lining the horizon, nudging back the night sky. Slowly, steadily, it rose. Daylight crept through the room until the stars on the ceiling faded and the sky turned back into stone.
Without uttering a word, Dumbledore handed her a letter from his desk. It was unsigned, but Ginny knew even before she read it who it was from.
Do you still remember it? Our time together when we were young?
You showed me your dreams, and I showed you the future. Many, many futures, but always two thrones, side by side.
That throne awaits you even now. The revolution needs you.
You can't hide it forever, Albus.
Come home.
The scream inside Ginny was burning again, climbing up her neck. Her hand tightened into a fist, crumpling the letter. Without pausing to think, she threw it into the fireplace and set it alight.
Blue flames. Like the fires that had rained down on Hogsmeade.
"What can I do?" said Ginny, and her voice came out dark, remoulded by her rage.
By guilt, too. Guilt that it had taken her this long — too long — to ask.
For a long moment, Dumbledore didn't answer her, just stared into the fire as Grindelwald's words turned to ash.
"Do what you always do, Ginny," he said at last. "Stand your ground when no one else does. Help others simply because you can. Believe in people who don't deserve it. Be brave and kind and every inch a Gryffindor. Because there's an ill wind coming, and there won't be enough kindness left at the end of it."
And Ginny didn't know how, but something about his words watered down her anger until she was no longer ablaze, just the charred parts left behind, the faint echoes of that scream.
"There'll be us, Professor," she said gently. "Both of us."
Fawkes, dull-eyed and ill-looking, made soft chirruping noises, as if in agreement. The phoenix had been so quiet that Ginny hadn't realized he was there.
He'll have his Burning Day soon, she thought.
She remembered the fires, the song, the bodies laid out in High Street — remembered Riddle's words, about gatherings and rituals, a test . . . an initiation . . .
Burning Day.
They would have their own too. Ginny could only hope they were ready for it when it came.