A/N: I'm sorry that it's getting so cliché now… sorry… YAY! REVIEWS! Hehe. Almost as good as chocolate. I have some chocolate right now. C'est tres yummeh.
Disclaimer: Get the idea into your head. I don't own it. Now move on.
The Letter P
Chapter Sixty-One: P is for Parchment Metaphors
She turned to look seriously at Tom. "Why didn't you resist before?" she repeated, setting a pause between each word to stress the inquiry, to make sure that he answered this time.
Tom released a short breath and quietly tangled his fingers with hers, turning her hand over and observing it carefully. "Because before, I didn't have anything that I needed to protect." They sighed as one, simultaneously, closing their eyes, intertwined hands, and silently both wondered what the hell was going to happen to them.
xxx
"Can I ask you a question?" Grace asked as she and Ginny climbed the stairs to the Astronomy Tower on March the tenth, 1959.
"Er, as long as it has nothing to do with the homework, which I'm not letting you copy, by the way, then sure." Ginny shrugged. "Shoot."
"Where were you yesterday?"
Ginny made a face inwardly. Oops.
"I collected your homework – whoop-de-doo for you, I guess– but where the hell were you, anyway?" Grace enquired, frowning.
"Um." Ginny waved a hand vaguely. "You know."
Grace raised an eyebrow at the redhead.
"I didn't feel well," Ginny lied hastily. "Now can we drop it?"
"If you didn't feel well, why did you run away like you were on fire or something like that?" Grace probed further.
Ginny gave a huff of annoyance. "Okay, Grace, imagine this: you are a dog. This topic is a toy-ball. You are a well-behaved dog, so when I tell you to, you drop it."
"Huh." Grace nodded. "Cool anamoly."
Ginny rolled her eyes, and set up a little roleplay where she didn't know the weird tall girl who was following her to class. She was being stalked. She did not know her.
They lined up outside Astronomy, and, when given the 'okay' from Professor Rowney, a small, mousey-haired man who had replaced Vander as the Head of Hufflepuff, entered the classroom (well, Grace fell into the classroom, as she tripped over her own feet on the way in).
The two female Slytherins selected seats quite near the front, as they both loved Astronomy ("MOON GEEKS!" they sometimes yelled and high-fived each other), and began to get their books out.
"Alright, get your things ready, we'll be taking notes on the formation of the Ariel satellite every twelve years," Rowney told them, drawing his wand, and, with a flick, creating words to appear on the blackboard that gave them instructions.
Page two-eight-seven… chapter nine…
Ginny flipped her textbook open to the according page and began to scrawl down line after line of untidy Astronomy notes. She could always write it out more neatly later, if she needed to revise or something.
As she was turning to the third page of notes to copy down, there was a tapping on the door. Ginny didn't really pay attention to it; she glanced up, saw nothing of interest, and continued boredly writing her classwork. Professor Rowney stood, and crossed to the door. He opened it, and in flew a paper bird, who flitted through the air and landed neatly in the Astronomy teacher's thin hands. Ginny looked up again as Rowney was unfolding the little parchment creature, and watched his face carefully for give-away emotions as his sharp grey eyes read whatever was written upon it.
He looked up at the class. "Miss Peregrine," he called. "Miss Peregrine, if you could go to Professor Dippet's office, please, that would be appreciated. Pack up your things – no! Wait, write down your homework…"
Ginny grabbed a quill, and scrawled the words: TWELVE INCH ESSAY ON ARIEL FORMATION DUE THURSDAY on the back of her hand, before chucking her school stuff into her bag and slinging in over her shoulder.
"Righty-ho," she said. "To Dippet's office."
She gave a jaunty wave to the rest of her staring, scowling classmates, and then swung around the doorframe, through the door, and promptly landed on her face on the other side.
What is it with that door?
She picked herself up, dusted her skirt off, and jogged down the stairs as though landing like toast-butter-side-down on the stone tiles was a perfectly normal everyday thing for her.
I wonder what ole' Dippet wants with me now, she mused as she continued down the corridor to the secret corridor that would lead her very close to the Headmaster's office.
"Ancillary," she told the gargoyles. "Just let me in, okay? I got a message from the Head honcho himself. I dunno why, but I did. S'that good enough for you?"
The two stone monsters eyed her warily, but allowed a staircase to appear out of nowhere in the wall.
With a smug look over her shoulder at them, Ginny mounted the steps and ascended to see what trouble she was doomed for now.
"Hey," she called through the door at the top of the stairs as she rapped her knuckles upon it. "Er. It's me. Ginny Peregrine? You know, the cool one? Because, weirdly there is actually another Ginny at Hogwarts. I thought it was a really uncommon name, but apparently not because there's a third-year called Ginny Dulwey. But her name is short for Virginia, not Ginevra, so I guess it doesn't really count. Anyway, the point is that I'm the cool one, the Slytherin, not the lame Hufflepuff – no offence if you were once a Hufflepuff, but… are you even in there?"
She pushed open the door and peered through; she was met with the sight of a bemused-looking Professor Dippet watching her from his desk.
"Oh, hi," she said. "Why didn't you answer?"
"I hardly had an opportunity," Dippet pointed out. "Have a seat."
Ginny obliged. She dropped into the chair opposite the Headmaster, and looked up expectantly at him. "So…" she drew out.
"Did you read the book I sent you for Christmas?" Dippet prompted.
"From cover to cover," Ginny lied.
"What was it called?" Dippet asked, raising his eyebrows.
"Er." Ginny racked her brain. "Time Travel At Its Finest?" she guessed.
Dippet shook his head with a sigh. "No." He steepled his fingers and peered at her over the tips of them. "Let me give you an important point of time-travel that the book covers… when someone is sent back in time, they are sent with a task to achieve. And when that task is completed, they have no more purpose to remain in the time period that they were sent to."
Ginny frowned. She didn't understand what he meant or what he was getting at.
"Now, I don't know what your task was, or why you were sent here… but, apparently, it's finished," Dippet told her.
Kill Tom? Er… I don't think so, dude.
"I've been talking to the centaurs. They know a lot about the stars and everything like that. Great astrologists, as I'm sure you already know," Dippet said. "Now, I'll cut straight to the point. According to the centaurs… the planets have been, for quite some time, shifting ever so slightly out of their normal places. They didn't pay much heed to it, as every so often, these things happen, but they usually right themselves quickly enough. However, they didn't. The universes have steadily been pulling apart."
Ginny twisted her mouth into an expression that read: and… what do you what me to do about it?
"You don't understand, do you?" said Professor Dippet wearily. The way that he said it, it wasn't even a question.
"Um. No."
"Miss Peregrine, it means that an unnatural is twisting the very fabric of time – messing with the strands of space and creating a hole where no hole should be," said Dippet gravely.
Huh?
"It means," said Dippet, clearly irritated with her total failure to grasp what he was getting at, "that your own time is pulling you back."
xxx
Not possible!
Not possible!
Simply not bloody possible!
Ginny tore through the Slytherin common; ran down the stairs to her dormitory; threw her schoolbag on the floor; and wrenched open her trunk. She ripped through it, desperately trying to find what she was looking for.
Aha.
She pulled out a small package, which she greedily ripped open. Two things fell into her hands. The first, a Time-Turner. The second, a piece of paper upon which she had written the prophecy.
Unfolding the parchment hastily, Ginny scanned the text and tried to see a glitch in her task that would send her home without killing Tom. Either that, or Dippet was more off his rocker than she'd previously thought.
When He rises up again,
It will signal the very end.
Of wizards, and Squibs, and Muggles alike,
All destroyed because of His spite.
But there is one to save the world,
And that is a terribly ordinary girl.
Blessed by her ignorance,
rescued by insolence.
Born the day that He first fell,
Growing up strong, and to rebel.
The youngest and fairest and purest of seven,
His number.
To free the world,
She destroys His heart
Else, should our world
Fall apart.
Beware the girl with the signature red,
To save the world, you must heed what I said.
She read the words silently; under her breath; and then aloud. No matter how she looked at it – in a mirror, upside down, with one eye shut – it didn't give her any help.
And then she noticed a line of the prophecy that she hadn't properly registered.
To free the world
She destroys His heart
Else, should our world
Fall apart
Destroy his heart… it wasn't literal! She wasn't supposed to kill Tom… Of course. It was a bloody metaphor. It was emotions-wise. But what?
Break his heart?
Teach him love?
Get him a snog?
Ginny sank down, sitting desolately on the floor with a heavy thump. She realised only now how much she loved 1959. Their queer sayings… their eccentric but wonderful clothing… and the people. In the twenty-first century, they'd all be in their sixties. Some might even have died. And Tom.
Not Tom.
Lord Voldemort.
But then again, maybe if she went back, and she'd fixed things, then her family and friends would still be alive. Maybe Ron, and Hermione, and Luna… and Harry… maybe they'd still all be okay.
I could never see them the same way. I'd always be paranoid, that now I had them back, they'd only die again in front of me. Total fear at all times of abandonment. And then I'd have nothing. Zilch. Whereas here…
Ginny felt tears blur her eyes. She wanted to stay. She wanted to stay so badly. However, according to Dippet, that simply wasn't an option.
She gave a yell of frustration and hurled the Time-Turner across the room. It bounced off the wall, and landed, hard, on the floor, but remained intact.
"Stupid Time-Turner!" she shouted at it. "I don't want to go back! I love it here! I hate you! I hate you I hate you I HATE YOU!"
The door opened.
"Um." Grace's head poked through the doorway; an alarmed and worried expression on her face. "What's going on?"
Ginny gave a low moan and slumped down next to her bed.
"Are you okay?" Grace asked, coming fully through the door and standing before the miserable redhead. "You look like someone just died. Did someone just die? Because then that would've been really insensitive of me. Was it your grandma? No, wait, your grandma's already dead. Sorry, that was insensitive too. What's wrong?"
Ginny hid her face in her hands. "I'm going," she muttered.
"What?" Grace said.
"I said, I'm going," Ginny repeated, lifting her face to look up at her closest friend.
"Yeah, I heard what you said," Grace said. "It was more of what the hell no way 'what', as opposed to a what was that I didn't hear you 'what'. But… just... why? Where to? Are you coming back?"
"To those three questions, I answer 'don't know', 'don't know', and 'no'." Ginny stared sadly down at the floor. "I'm going to leave. And then I'll never see you again."
"But…" Grace stammered. "But…"
"And you can't tell anyone!" Ginny urged. Dippet had told her that she was to disappear without a trace. No-one must know, or they'd ask questions. "Not Flora… not even Alden. And," she added, reluctantly, "especially not Tom."
"Why not?" Grace frowned. "They'll want to say goodbye."
"It's… it's complicated," Ginny sighed. "Please, Grace. Please."
With tears welling in her blue eyes, the tall brunette agreed. "Okay… but only if I get to say goodbye," she compromised.
"I can't promise anything," said Ginny sadly. "I could… I could go at any time. Seriously."
Grace gave a whimper of a cry and hugged Ginny tight, wrapping her arms around her and snuffling down into her shoulder. "Please don't leave," she begged. "Apart from Alden and maybe Flora I guess, you're like… my best friend ever."
"I know… I'm sorry…" Ginny murmured. "I don't want to go any more than you want me to." In fact, she wanted to go even less. She wanted to stay. Wanted it so much that her heart hurt. And tears were in her eyes. She didn't know why she was crying, but the only image that came to mind was of a tall, dark-haired young man with his head bowed quietly.
xxx
Ginny and Grace had decided that they were going to live life to the fullest while the redhead was still around. And by living life to the fullest, they meant every extreme. Holding the painting of the Fat Lady hostage until they were paid a ransom of two pounds of Honeydukes (Ginny felt slightly guilty, as the Fat Lady was like an old friend to her). Bombing younger students with eggs from the roof of the Hog's Head. Cheeking Madam Crofton and seeing how many times you could chip into the conversation a discreet knock at her height before she noticed and threw you out of the library.
Life was good.
However, the guilt of seeing Tom – knowing that some time soon, she'd just be sucked away, and never see him again – was almost unbearable. Some days, she was fine. Other days, she just hugged him and tried not to show how worthless she felt.
"So when are you going to leave?" asked Grace quietly, over two Butterbeers, a round table and a candlestick in the Three Broomsticks. They mostly avoided the topic, as though it were taboo, but sometimes it just came up.
Ginny rested the back of her head against her seat. "I don't know," she replied after a moment's thought.
Dippet had said that the universes were being pulled apart. That insinuated that the hole in time wasn't complete yet. She had some time left. She should have thought to ask him for how long had the centaurs been aware of the hole; that might've given her some idea as to how long it took for the hole to bigger… and how long she had left in what she truly knew as home.
"You don't know?" Grace echoed. "So, what, are you just going to suddenly be sucked out of the corridor on your way to Potions or something?"
Probably.
"I said, I don't know," Ginny repeated firmly. "Do you remember what I said about the dog and the toy-ball?"
"Yeeesss," grumbled Grace. "Drop it, I know… I just…" she flailed a hand as her sentence trailed away. Then she picked up her Butterbeer, drank a large quantity of it, and then stared morosely into the bubbly golden liquid.
"Shall we go?" Ginny asked, seeing that staying in the Three Broomsticks was going to be a gloomy experience for both of them.
Grace nodded. "Yeah. My Butterbeer's mostly just froth now," she said, and duly poked her index finger into her drink. It came out covered in yellow-brown foam. "Let's roll."
"Roll, indeed," Ginny agreed, and, linking elbows, they marched out of the Three Broomsticks, leaving their money behind them to pay for their drinks. And as they chatted amiably about the weather and Quidditch and homework, both were wondering quietly if that conversation would be the last they ever had.
xxx
A/N: WAAAA. Sorry. The worstest, most clichést thing ever. Oh well. Take a guess at what crappy plot I have in mind… : Please review!
Next Time:
Then there was a rattling noise, and with a swirl of black smoke that was evidently a Boggart, a large floor-length mirror appeared. Ginny looked over in confusion at Tom; his face was screwed up in a wince, his eyes narrowed so that he didn't have to see it properly. He whirled his wand; red flew out; bang – and the mirror transformed-
"Secondly…" she looked up at him curiously. "The second thing that your Boggart turned into, I can understand… but why the mirror? I haven't been bothered by anything else that you've told me - does it look like I'm going to bothered by your phobia of mirrors or any explanation behind it?" Ginny said exasperatedly.
"Someone dropped a mirror on me when I was four years old," Tom replied coolly.
"Okay…" said Ginny, nodding. "Now tell me the truth."
XXX