A/N: Thank you for so many amazing reviews. Quite an important chapter. Reeeaddd. Nowww.
Disclaimer: Get the idea into your head. I don't own it. Now move on.
The Letter P
Chapter Thirty-Five: P is for Procession
"No…" Riddle's eyes opened the smallest amount; just enough to see dark, weary through long eyelashes. "Just… stay…"
Ginny's heart swelled with pity. "Okay," she whispered, and drew up a chair to his bedside; crouching had hurt her feet like hell. She sat on it and quietly looked at Riddle. She had no idea what to do, or even say. A thousand questions plagued her mind like a swarm of bees, and she let these occupy her mind and fill the silence, trying to work out a dozen puzzles with so many missing pieces that the end picture resembled nothing but space.
xxx
The eighth of December.
The procession began.
"We are gathered here today to remember and commiserate the passing of Cadwygawn Vander, sixty-eight year old Hogwarts Professor. He taught Charms for twelve years, and was Head of Hufflepuff House for eight of those years. He was a fabulous man and we will miss him sincerely. He was not only teacher – he was also brother and husband. We pray that he is happy in whatever life he attains next, and pray him safe passage to it."
The elderly man at the front of the seated crowd snapped his book closed and stepped down from the podium. He blessed the small wooden coffin, and then called, "We now have a few words from various friends, family, and students who wish to remember him."
First stepped up his wife, a kind-looking, portly woman with brown hair and a face blotched with tears. She gave a shaky speech about her husband before subsiding into sobs and returning to her seat, being held tightly by several other women.
Then the brother. Then the aunt. Then the nieces and nephews.
Professor Vander had a large family.
It reminded Ginny of her own family. For the first funeral – Fred's – there had been a massive ceremony. Slowly, with each death, the processions became smaller and smaller, until there was just Ginny, pale and tearful, crying alone over a tombstone that read: Ronald Bilius Weasley. A hero. Missing in action. A lie, in stone.
She clutched at her own speech, unconsciously crinkling the cards she held in her hand.
Grace sobbed beside her, into Alden's chest. Alden was weeping silently, his tears flowing down into Grace's curly hair.
"And now… Miss Ginevra Peregrine."
Ginny stood and quietly made her way to the podium, her black skirt flowing around her ankles. She hadn't wanted to make a speech, but, as one of the last people to see Vander, she had been forced into it. The last thing she wanted was to chat to everyone about murder.
Nervously, she cleared her throat. She shifted her speech-cards in her hands and flipped through them quickly. "Um," she said, aware that her 'um' was being echoed across the courtyard by various charms.
Please don't boo. Do people boo at funerals?
The procession couldn't continue until everyone had finished their speeches, and Ginny was holding it up. She tried again.
"Um." She glanced at her cards again. "Oh, screw this," she muttered, and tore the parchment in half. Again, her words were amplified. "I mean, forget this," she corrected hastily, with a wary glance at the vicar nearby.
Awkward…
"Professor Vander was a great teacher," she improvised, her cheeks glowing red. She dug her fingernails into her skirt, trying to quench her anxiety. Merlin, she hated funerals. She had to always say speeches, and they had to be solemn and sweet and heart-warming.
She just didn't do heart-warming.
She did funny, amusing, make-you-smile stuff. She did crude jokes and imitations of annoying people. None of which was suitable at a funeral.
"He… um. He was really smart – well. Duh, he was a teacher – anyway – um. He was smart, yeah, I said that, and he was really nice, too. I mean, I'm hardly the Girl Next Door. But he always over-looked my embarrassing accidents, or my charms gone wrong. I wasn't the top of my class, but I was alright – yet, when I got a tiny thing right, he'd act like I was nominated President. Or Queen. Or something."
She bit her lip.
Oh Merlin. This is not going well…
"I remember," she quickly said, being hit with inspiration, "this one time. It wasn't even that long ago. Maybe two weeks. Three, tops. Anyway. Um. We were learning the Aguamenti Charm, and, naturally I was… um. Well. I was crap."
She gasped inwardly.
No! Bad!
"Really bad!" she corrected hurriedly. "I meant, really bad." Another glance to the vicar. He was frowning at her. "I was really bad at the spell and… I cast it too hard. My wand shot out of my hand, hit the desk, and started spinning at high-speed, on the floor, firing water everywhere. And… Professor Vander just laughed. He told me I'd have to clear it up," she added, "but he laughed about it."
Some people in the audience were smiling watery smiles.
"He did that a lot," Ginny said, sensing a jack-pot. This might be heart-warming after all, she thought gleefully. "You know when something really awkward happens, and everyone's like 'oh, don't worry, we'll laugh about it later'? Well, that was Professor Vander down to a tee. He laughed instantly. Screw – I mean, forget – forget later. He laughed."
More people were smiling.
"I think," said Ginny, "that if there was anything I really learned from Vander – Professor Vander, that is – and I don't mean things like learning charms and spells and to hold onto your wand during potentially dangerous situations involving aguamenti… then what I learnt is to make the most out of life. Don't let anything get you down. Laugh in the face of disaster and possible humiliation. Because our life, contrary to popular belief of teenagers, is great. I loved Vander," she panicked, "not in the creepy way, no offence Mrs. Vander! – but I loved him, in a teacher-student kind of way, and I'll really miss him."
She finished, and grinned.
Wow. That really worked.
Triumphant, Ginny returned to her seat and sat down, heaving a massive sigh at not having to make any more speeches for a long time. Provided, of course, that no-one else died in the short-term.
"That was really good," said Grace, her voice hoarse from crying, but smiling at her.
"Meeerrmpgh," Ginny moaned and hid her face in her hands, going bright red.
xxx
The first day of the Christmas holidays had gotten off to an excellent start – a storm. It tore at the walls, and anyone who dared to step outside, or even just open a window, would be swept away in a torrent of rain. Ginny stood at a window at the end of the sixth-floor corridor. She could hear the Gryffindors thumping about in their common room upstairs, but the noise didn't bother her. She idly watched the rivulets of water crawl down the windowpane and gather in a puddle on the sill.
After the funeral, Grace and Alden had both returned home to their families – they were going to return in time for the Yule Ball, but they hadn't wanted to stay in Hogwarts. Not when a dangerous murderer was loose in the castle. Ginny couldn't blame them.
The redhead had returned to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, but, as if to spite her, the Hufflepuff ghost had disappeared. Also, the book from the Restricted Section, on Svengali, had disappeared too. Ginny suspected that her dormitory had devoured it. It was messy enough to.
Ginny wore her hair loose in fly-away waves, and she pushed it over her shoulders. Staring at her reflection, she noted with some satisfaction that she had put on weight since the last time she looked at herself.
"Kill…"
She whirled around and stared down the corridor.
No-one was there.
"Kill…"
"Who is that?" she yelled. She waited for a response; anything. But nothing came. After a few seconds of standing stock-still, listening intently to the silence, she decided that it was her imagination, and she walked down the corridor. She wanted a shower. Maybe it would help her relax – stop hearing things.
Nodding to herself in agreement to this thought, she headed off down the corridor towards the stairs.
xxx
"You've got to find your balance," Ginny sang, rinsing shampoo out of her hair. "You've got to open your eyes." Her nose was itchy, and she raised one soap-covered hand to scratch it – and at that precise moment, she sneezed.
Soap fired up her nose. She grabbed at the wall, coughing and spluttering, sneezing hysterically; her eyes burning and streaming tears.
"Ow," she whimpered, "ow, ow, ow!" Achoo. "Ow!" Achoo. She bent over and gave one last, massive sneeze. The pain slowly subsided, though her nose was throbbing, and her eyes still were watering.
"Kill…"
Ginny stood bolt-upright.
"Kill… must… kill…"
In that instant, she knew that she hadn't imagined it.
"KILL…" It was getting quieter. It was moving away.
Ginny shut off the shower and jumped out. She ran into her dormitory and pulled on a sunshine-yellow summer dress – the easiest garment to slip on quickly – followed by a lime-green cardigan, and pink flats that clashed with both. Then, sodden hair flying out with a spray of hot water, she sprinted up the stairs to the common room.
"Miss Peregrine," called Professor Slughorn's voice. "Just the girl I wanted to see."
"Not now, sorry, sir!" yelled Ginny, racing past him.
"What? Miss Peregrine, return here this instant!" Slughorn was running after her.
"I can't!" Ginny panicked. The voice was moving faster than she was, and she was going to lose it.
"KILL…"
"It's going to kill someone!" Ginny shouted. It was as though she'd said the magic words: Slughorn paled and stopped dead. She took this advantage and sprinted through a tapestry, up a series of steps that lead her to the third floor…
…now where?
"Kill… tear… rip… BLOOD…"
It was going up.
The stairs, where are the stairs when you need them?
Ginny located them and thundered up to the fourth-floor corridor.
"Blood… kill… KILL…"
The Hospital Wing doors! That's where it was going!
She pushed her legs harder, running as fast as she could, flat-out, painfully aware of who was inside the Hospital Wing.
Please don't! Please don't!
She slammed through the doors of the Hospital Wing; raced down the aisle. Her heart pounded. The voice was going the length of the Wing – towards where Riddle was.
"KILL!"
"Riddle!" Ginny cried, wrenching the curtains open.
There was no-one there.
"…what?" she gasped.
"Miss Peregrine, are you okay?" asked a kindly voice from behind the redhead. It was Madam Royce, looking concerned.
"Where's Riddle?" Ginny demanded, not caring if she was being rude.
Madam Royce's face twisted into a look of sympathy. "I'm sorry, dear. He was transferred to St. Mungoes' this morning."
Ginny stared at the empty, perfectly made-up bed. What on earth? If Riddle was gone, then why had the voice brought her here?
"Hearing voices is the first sign of madness…" It was the voice. It sounded malicious and gleeful. Then, it was gone.
"What's going on?" Slughorn shouted, booming through the doors. "Miss Peregrine, I command an explanation!"
"For what?" asked Madam Royce, looked shocked at this out-burst.
"That girl," Slughorn pointed a chubby finger at Ginny angrily, "sprinted past me, ignored me when I spoke to her, and then shouted at me that someone was going to be killed!"
"What?" Madam Royce gawped at Ginny.
Slughorn stared beadily at the redhead for a moment. Then he snarled, "I suppose you think it's funny, do you? Joking about death?"
Joking…?
"What – sir – sir, it wasn't a joke!" Ginny cried. "I heard a voice! It was – sir, it was saying that it was going to-"
"I apologize for interrupting what I'm sure would have been an excellent punch-line, but I don't want to hear it, Miss Peregrine," Slughorn snapped. "I will be speaking with Headmaster Dippet. This matter will be addressed, I assure you." He straightened his robes, and then, with a haughty sniff, stormed away.
Ginny wasn't sure what to do. She stood still. Then she sank onto the now-empty bed beside her, where Riddle had been barely forty-eight hours previously.
St. Mungoes…
"Why's he gone to St. Mungoes'?" asked Ginny abruptly. "I mean – he said that he was going to be fine when I spoke to him. He's… he's not that sick, is he?"
Madam Royce raised a grey eyebrow. "Miss Peregrine, he was bleeding copiously and cursed," she pointed out.
Ginny looked worriedly at her feet. She hoped he'd be okay…
xxx
A/N: -gasp- Maybe I'll kill him, just to spite you. Thanks to my beta SilvanXan. Please review, it makes my day.
The-Quoi: Thank you! Yes, Monty Python is awesome possum.
00jade: I can't tell you that! It'd ruin the plot! – sticks tongue out-
X-XsiobhanX-X: Hell, I'll screw ruining the next chapters and say yes. And you're MEAN! You shouldn't use phobias against people.
Josephine Sawyer: Yeah, I thought that it might have been over the top, but I wasn't thinking about like this – that she'd been surrounded by War, pain and panic for so long, and now she thought she'd finally left it all behind when someone was murdered. Erm, the answer to what he was trying to say "how did you-" will be explained much later. Thank you, I liked that as well.
Kriz: Indeed, I do feel immensely honoured. Thank you! And, -whispers- yes, he is.
Faye8222: Thanks, I love your patience.
BDSanta2001: We'll find out latteerrr. Lol.
Audrhole: Er. I can put her in. I haven't actually put her in yet. Thanks so much!
kyraThePoop: Thank you! Damn good prediction! Yes, a funeral. An
SwirlyL: Ouch. I came three-hundreth-and-something in a n 800m run with a thousand people. Haha, that made me laugh!
creative-writing-girl13: YUP!
Saene: Yeah, I was talking to my friend, and I said something to tell her, and I was like: "OOH OOH OOH, GUESS WHAT – er. Um. Wait. Damn." Thanks!
Intricacy: Thanks!
DeadlyCreative: Well, this is REALLY AU. Because, if you remember, there weren't originally any murderous pyschopaths in 1950s Hogwarts, either.
SiRiUsLyInLuV71: Yes, I know… it's coming soonnnnn….
peacegirl: Thanks!
Hyrda27: I don't know what Dead Silence is about. But I know what you mean about jumping – me and my friends watched White Noise at a sleepover, and everyone was budging up to me because I kept screaming predictions, like: "OHMIGOD SOMETHING'S GONNA JUMP AT HIM" or "OHMIGOD SHE'S GONNA DIE" or "SHIT, DON'T DO THAT!" Lol! And then something would happen, and we'd all scream and cling to each other. Lmao. Good times. Thank you SO much, I adore your reviews.
KayRose: Aw, indeed.
Amberdream7: That clears what up?
storm-brain: Of course. It's all a very devious plot by the house-elves. WHO GUESSED THAT?
Trumpetina: I like your pen-name! Thanks!
XxRandomHeartxX: Thank you! Eh, procrastination is my life. In a summarized sort of way.
TurnSmileShiftRepeat: Can I just say that your pen-name is AMAZING? I love it! Thanks! And I'm afraid that nothing's ever that easy, and I like my fictional buddies to earn their happy-ever-afters. Lots of crying and shouting. –grin-
Xxx
I just finished writing Chapter Sixty, and I ACTUALLY burst into tears. I'm so pathetic. Meh.