A/N: I have not looked over it, because I couldn't be bothered. Also because I'm now terrified that if I don't update quickly, I will stalked and killed by numerous angry reviewers. You know who you are. Oo
IT WAS A STAINED GLASS WINDOW! HOORAY TO DANCINGONTHEGRAVE, WHO WON THE COMPETITION. Anyway. This has a bit of humour in it, though I really shouldn't, because this is the climax, and it should just be melodrama and sappy don't-worry-I'll-save-you-darling romance. Bleurgh. I'm starting to twitch, because its all so serious. I NEED A BREAK!
Disclaimer: I am not lucky enough to be as smart enough as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-
The Stone Speaks
Chapter Fifty-One: Stained Glass
DRACO AND GINNY
Draco was staring at the walls of the church. Or, more accurately, something embedded into the wall. "I think…" he said, very slowly, drawing out each word like bubblegum. "I think I have an idea."
Draco let out a short, anguished yell of anger; he flew at the door, kicking and kicking and slamming his fists against the wood, rage and despair pulling through every muscle. "It's… locked."
"Goodbye, Weasley," said Lord Voldemort softly. Ginny's eyes widened in fear. She opened her mouth to scream. But before a second scream come out, the green engulfed her.
…
Ginny's eyes were still open, but the church had disappeared. She was seeing a small red-haired girl with pigtails tiptoeing into her brothers' broom cupboard… blowing out birthday candles… shrieking, dancing on the table, waving a Hogwarts letter in the air… waking up in a dark chamber, in Harry's arms… kissing Dean Thomas in a gloomy corner, being caught by Ron, a livid look on Harry's face… Quidditch match, wind in her hair… Harry's mouth pressed to hers, so hard it hurt…. Dumbledore's funeral, screaming on the inside as Harry told her it was over… screaming on the inside again as he dared to ask her out again… losing a chess match to Luna … Yule Ball, in the cold air, close to Draco… a kiss… a battle… a churchyard… and a flash of green light.
"No!" Ginny tried to scream, but her vocal chords were twisting in half-goblin, half-Parseltongue, letting loose strange words that had not been heard in the wizarding world for thousands of years… her hazel eyes drained of all colour, until they were lidless white, staring up at Lord Voldemort.
The panic was evident in his crimson slit-eyes, but he masked it by shuttling more power down into the Killing curse.
Ginny threw back her head, suddenly silent. Her eyes, still white, narrowed lethally. She did not say a word, but her lips moved wordlessly, and the green light flew around her.
Again the protective bubble had surrounded Ginny, but it was absorbing the Killing Curse, drawing on Lord Voldemort's strength. The dome was glowing green, flashing dark and light; it was smoking and any rain that touched it evaporated immediately.
Knowing instinctively that if he kept attempting Avada Kedavra, he would have his power dragged out of him by the strange, quite obviously Stone-enhanced bubble, Lord Voldemort slashed his wand sideways and ended the curse. He was breathing hard, his nostrils flaring.
Ginny was still glowing green; however, she had lost the demonic, possessed-by-Satan stance, and was standing tall, her bloody, scraped chin tilted up, her again-hazel eyes glinting in the gloom. She moved her fingers to the Stone, and let a smile tug at one corner of her lips. Then, soundlessly, she collapsed.
Draco
The five pounded through the graveyard, hair either whipping back in the icy wind or plastered to numb faces. Mud streaked up their length of their bodies as they wheeled around the graveyard and sprinted down the side of the church. Slippig and sliding, Draco could barely see; he threw out a hand and slid it along the wall of the bumpy church-wall, grazing his palm to pieces, but he didn't care. He felt what he was looking for. Smooth glass, edged with ridges.
"Everyone!" Draco yelled. "This is it!"
He could see the murky outlines of Harry, Hermione, Luna and Ron crowding near him. A 'lumos' beam shone at his feet, and through it Draco could see Hermione's muddy hand, and therefore knew where to look for her face, and roughly where everyone else was.
"Follow me in, okay?" Draco commanded. "I'll go first. Stand back." Cliché. Who gives a damn?
Ohhh, hell, this is gonna hurt.
DOES IT MATTER?
Draco considered it. No. He stepped backwards a few times, turned to face the church, and balled his hands into fists. One deep breath. Two deep breaths. Oh hell, oh hell. He sorely wished he hadn't abandoned his protective cloak, but thrust back his doubt. "Ready or not," he muttered. He sprinted forwards as fast as he could, at the broad window waiting. The red-green-blue-brown-yellow of the painted saints standing there, all looking very solemn and holy, panicked and sidled out to another window. Not fast enough.
And he jumped.
Ginny
For a moment or two the church was silent, aside from the roaring of the storm outside, and Lord Voldemort's heavy breathing. He was staring at the sixteen-year-old girl, eagle-spread out on the floor in a very un-ladylike manner, her legs and arms sprawled left, right and centre.
Was she dead?
Ginny Weasley's finger twitched and then her cinnamon eyelashes fluttered against her pale cheeks; then hazel trembled open, round and frightened. Breathing ragged, she stared at the floor close to where her head was, before hauling her body to sit up, shaking with the effort.
What… what happened?
"Oh," said Lord Voldemort softly. "Did I miss out something from the story?" he stroked a finger down his pointed white chin. "Hmm… yes, I think I did, rather."
Not more, Ginny couldn't help but think. However, she was partly intrigued and partly scared by how little she knew about the necklace she had barely taken off all year. Her head hurt, and she wondered why she had passed out briefly.
"Dear old Montol couldn't compress his magic," explained the Dark Lord, with the air of telling something to someone very thick, "to a fair extent, anyway. When his magic increased, he had to enlarge the Stone. That, Weasley, is why the amulet is so inordinately large.
"However, when the Goblin Wars were declared…" Lord Voldemort continued, "well. It wouldn't do well to be carrying around an unnecessarily large pendant of power, would it? No…" he stretched out his finger towards Ginny's face. She flinched away from him, and froze solid as he drew a line down her ridge of her jaw, before scratching her with long, torn nails.
"Where are you getting with this?" Ginny tried to speak confidently, but her voice wavered and she was fighting a losing battle with her lower lip – don't wobble, don't wobble…
Lord Voldemort shot the redhead a glare, before straightening. "The Stone," he said, in a voice with a slightly bored, learnt-by-heart tone in his voice, "can only cope with as much magic as it can fit inside it. To minimize excess weight, Montol shrunk it precisely to the limit of the magic it held at the time. Now, doubtlessly, you've been collecting some magic over the year… yes, or no?"
The falling boulders… that was what protected me, Ginny realized. She did not allow the Dark Lord a response, but he understood her silence perfectly and laughed quietly.
"Foolish girl," he sneered, "you are weak, and the Stone of Montol has been sapping on your sadly limited magical powers all year. Added to whatever harm it has protected you from, and the strength drawn from my Killing Curse… well, it's just about full to the brim!" He raised a smooth, hairless eyebrow. "And that is not a good thing."
"W-what will happen if it's too full?" said Ginny, her voice quavering and barely resounding in the hollow church.
"It will explode," said Lord Voldemort simply. "It will shatter with force equivalent to what Muggles know as an atomic bomb. All its magic will be unleashed into the world, and you, little Weasley brat, will have a thousand tiny pieces of broken black onyx driven through your pathetic body before you can even scream. It will puncture every organ, every artery… you'll die before you even know that you're dying."
Don't shake. Don't give him the satisfaction of knowing that you're scared.
"Not scared, Weasley?" asked Lord Voldemort sarcastically, as if reading her thoughts. "You should be. When I attack you with the last colour that you will ever see – the lurid, toxic, green of the Killing Curse – you will die. Either your precious Stone will not defend you, and your life will be wiped from your body like a small stain… or the Stone will defend you, and you will be torn to pieces by the destruction of the most powerful magical object in the Wizarding World."
Something didn't fit.
"I don't get it," Ginny said, bewildered. "You want the Stone of Montol. Why are you destroying it?"
"I don't want the Stone. I want its magic," he explained. "And the magic will flow easily without the Stone." The Dark Lord gave a disbelieving snort. "Do I honestly look the kind of person who cares about accessories?"
"Well, yeah, from the matching handbag," sneered Ginny, throwing out the teasing quip before she could stop herself.
Surprisingly, two spots of colour appeared high on Lord Voldemort's cheeks. His red eyes flew down to her, then on, on to the tattered black satchel that he always brought with him. "It's not a handbag!" he shouted angrily. "It's where I keep my matters of evil!"
Leave it, Ginny! But no, she couldn't stop with the taunting, and more came forth from her tongue. "'Matters of evil? That's a new one," said Ginny dryly. "I usually hear it just called lipstick."
"SILENCE!" roared Lord Voldemort. "AVADA KEDA-"
Ginny squeezed her eyes shut.
The green light started to spiral forwards.
She waited for her life to flash before her eyes all over again.
And then, suddenly, a tremendous crash screamed through the church.
Ginny snapped her eyes open and stared sideways. As she saw the flying pieces of glass flying as the stained-glass church window imploded everywhere, she decided that staring was a bad idea. She shrieked and hid her face in her elbow, skidding backwards.
The Dark Lord gave a yell of shock and stumbled backwards in a most un-Lordlike fashion.
The Death Eaters are here. I will die. My life… is over. Draco… I'll love you forever.
Swallowing her fear, Ginny looked up. At first, she saw no-one. Then someone staggered to his feet, out of the broken and disarrayed pew-benches. And she saw was a tall, totally sodden, bedraggled boy with pale hair so plastered to his skull that he seemed bald. Who gave a damn? He had smashed through a window, and he was Ginny's knight in shining armour.
A/N: Aw. How sweet. I hope you liked the handbag quip. It just suddenly came to me one day. Review if you liked it!
Message: The winner of the competition from the last chapter is DancingOnTheGrave! She is getting a one-shot written for her. –frown- You could have had one too, but did you vote? NOOOO. –pout-