A/N: Ok, this is an extremely long chapter (well, for me anyway), and I got it up much earlier than expected. Not much for me to say, except I wanted to address something that ~*Ginny*~ mentioned in her review of the last chapter. I had things happen that way because of a few things: 1. I see Ginny as an emotionally-balanced person, meaning that it takes a bit for her to get that upset and that she tends to move past anger and sadness rather quickly, especially in public. 2. I had in mind that most of her anxiety came from telling Harry about it, as she had already had a few days to deal with it herself. She was afraid of his reaction to what she had to say. So, when he comforted her, it was an enormous relief, which allowed her to accept what she had seen. Anyway, I hope this explains why she reacted the way she did. Ok, so here is the next chapter. Enjoy.
Disclaimer: See Chapter One.
Chapter Seven
La Luna
He hadn't slept all night but, then again, he'd known that he wouldn't. Every time he closed his eyes, he either heard his parents' last moments or he saw Ginny, with her tear-stained cheeks and her eyes bright and wet from crying. And he would long to hug her, to make sure that she knew everything was going to be all right, because he wouldn't let anything happen to her. But he could never reach out to her, as she was always just out of his reach, like a taunting apparition. It was driving him crazy. So, after half-heartedly trying to sleep, he got up and prowled around the common room, to restless to even sit for long.
As he paced, his mind wandered between the painful pleasure of seeing her in his mind's eye, and the excruciating pain of having the images to go with the sounds of his parents' deaths. It hurt too much for him to think about them right now, so he allowed his mind to fixate on the subject it really wanted to: Ginny Weasley.
Thoughts of her were filling his head, thoughts about her beauty, her grace, how brave she was, how she made him feel and how he wanted, more than anything else at that moment, to tell her how he felt about her. Before he quite knew what was happening, he had a quill and parchment out, and he was writing his thoughts down . . . in halfway decent verse. He was in the middle of comparing her hair to fire, what's a good word to rhyme with fire?, when it finally occurred to him exactly what he was doing.
I knew it!, the cynical part of him exclaimed. But he ignored that part of him, and just kept writing, finding more and more that he wanted to say. The time passed quickly, and soon it was dawn. The first rays of light were what alerted him to the time, and he looked down at the feet of parchment before him. It was only then, with the morning and the threat that others might have a chance to read what he had written, that he quickly ran to his dorm, threw open his trunk, and quickly shoved all the poems deep within it. He relaxed once that had been done, then changed into his robes and made his way back downstairs. Despite being sure that no one-not even Hermione-had known of his poetry, he was still extremely nervous, as if something in his demeanor would give him away. He couldn't help but fidget as Hermione made her way down from the girl's dorm, twitch when Ron came down from the boy's dorm. But that was nothing to the overwhelming nausea that hit him when Ginny descended from the girl's dorm. She looked as beautiful as ever, of course, especially with her hair down like that, framed by the rays of the sun. His heart started beating quicker, and his breathing became a little more strained, but he kept his face neutral, not wanting anyone to see his reaction to her.
No one appeared to notice his discomfit as they all greeted each other and made their way down to breakfast. Harry was eternally grateful that he had been blessed with a rather decent poker face, as he knew he couldn't afford to wear his emotions on his face, for fear of being found out by both the Weasleys. He didn't think he could handle hearing a "I like you as a friend" speech from Ginny, and a "I'm going to kill you" threat from his best friend. If he were going to be honest with himself, he was more worried about how Ron would react to him, if he ever let it be known that he liked Ginny as more than just a friend. Really, he thought to himself as the four of them walked down to the Great Hall, how do you tell your best friend that you've written love poetry about his little sister, you know, the one he's so protective of? He felt himself redden as he thought about the poems he had written, but he ignored the glowers he got from Hermione and the worried looks he got from Ginny. He knew that his ability to mask his feelings for Ginny was a godsend, and possibly the only thing saving him from the wrath of his best friend.
After what seemed like an interminable walk to Harry, they finally arrived at the Great Hall. Harry, Ron and Hermione made their way to sit at the Gryffindor table, but Ginny, with an apologetic smile and a little wave, went over to sit with the Hufflepuffs. Harry watched her, unable to keep his blood from boiling and his heart from dropping as he watched her greet Justin with a kiss and a hug, then sit next to him. He averted his eyes to his plate, desperately hoping that Hermione had not seen him watching Ginny. He glanced over at her, and sighed with relief, as she appeared more interested in kissing Ron than in paying any attention to where Harry's eyes had been.
Throughout breakfast, Ron and Hermione were . . . otherwise involved. Though Harry usually hated it when they were like this, for once he was grateful, needing the time to collect his thoughts, and to make sure that the didn't slip again. He needed to be sure that, even if he had to ignore her, Ginny Weasley would not make him lose his composure.
A few times during breakfast, his gaze fell upon Ginny, but she seemed to be enjoying herself with Justin, the two laughing and talking animatedly. So he would quickly divert his eyes, before she could see that he had been watching her. Not soon enough, it was time for Harry, Ron, and Hermione to head to their first class, and Harry knew that he was ready to face the day, his poker face firmly in place.
***
The day had been long, but he fortunately hadn't seen much of Ginny Weasley. A few times during lunch, when Ginny had sat with them, he saw Hermione looking at him, obviously trying to decipher what he was thinking, but he ignored her and concentrated on eating.
Dinner came and Harry grew even quieter, as he dreaded having to work in close proximity with Ginny. She kept trying to talk to him during dinner, but he feared that talking to her would just make things harder on him, so he didn't speak much. He felt bad about it, particularly when he noticed that she stopped trying to engage him in conversation, but he felt that it would be better for the both of them that way.
After what seemed like ages, dinner was done, and the four of them headed to the library to study. They arrived at the library and Hermione immediately took charge.
"Let's work separately, that way we'll get more accomplished," she said, looking at the others. At their nods of assent, she continued. "Harry, you and Ginny begin working on finding out who or what Brighid is." Harry glared at her, but eventually nodded his head. She smiled sweetly in return. "Ron and I will start going through the astronomical charts to see what we can find."
"Just make sure you actually work," Harry answered, desperate to get her back for making him work with Ginny. She just ignored him as she and Ron got up to look through the stacks of books. With a sigh, he turned back to Ginny. "Right. I suppose we should start with trying some books about name meanings, eh Ginny?"
She didn't look at him as she answered. "Er, right. That sounds good."
Harry stared at her, but she paid him no mind, getting up to go search the stacks. Harry followed, all at once feeling bad about his treatment of her. He resolved that he would no longer ignore her as he had been.
They looked through the books and found a few that looked promising, 1,000 Witch and Wizard Names, Meanings of Traditional Magical Names, and The Etymology of Names. They began going through them, but Harry was having trouble concentrating. His thoughts, and his eyes, kept drifting to Ginny. He knew he had been wrong to try and ignore her, and now he was determined to set things right with her, because he couldn't stand her silence, and the fact that she avoided looking at him. He felt awful, and he was going to make it up to her, no matter what. Hesitantly, he cleared his throat, and saw with some satisfaction that she looked up at him. "Uh, Ginny? Uh, well, I just wanted to, uh, say that I'm, you know, sorry for being rather aloof today. Ahem. Yes."
The smile she smiled at him looked embarrassed, but he was pleased to see it nonetheless. "Harry, you don't have to apologize. I understand, really. You've had a lot on your mind, recently, you know, and it's understandable that you would be . . . withdrawn."
"Yes, that's true. I'm glad you understand. I wouldn't want you to think that I was upset with you, especially after what you told me last night."
They smiled at each other, understanding without needing to speak that everything was all right now.
It was easier for Harry to concentrate, now that he and Ginny had cleared the air between them. So, it was not too much later that he stumbled upon the name "Brighid" in The Etymology of Names, under which it said: "See Bridget." He quickly turned to the name, anticipation about getting an answer making his heart pound a little faster. There, he read:
Bridget (f): "Exaulted One." In Irish mythology, she was a three-fold goddess of poetry, healing and fertility, and of the forge.
Harry re-read the little bit of information in front of him, and then turned to Ginny. "Ginny?" She looked up, and he continued. "I found the name." He read what was in front of him to her, and watched for her reaction. She appeared thoughtful. "We should get a book on Muggle Gods and Goddesses," he said, when she didn't volunteer her thoughts. She nodded, and then he took off, eager to see what else he could find. He returned with on book, and the two of them bent over it, paging through the index. They came across the name, and turned to that page in the book.
Breo Saighead, or the "Fiery Arrow or Power," is a Celtic three-fold goddess, the daughter of The Dagda. Known by many names, Brighid's three aspects are (1) Fire of Inspiration as patroness of poetry, (2) Fire of the Hearth, as patroness of healing and fertility, and (3) Fire of the Forge, as patroness of smithcraft and martial arts.
Brighid, which means, "one who exaults herself," is often considered to be the White Maiden aspect of the Triple Goddess. She sometimes also is associated with the Romano-Celtic goddess Aquae-Sulis in Bathe.
Brighid's festival is Imbolc, celebrated on or around February 1 when she ushers Spring to the land after The Cailleach's Winter reign. During this time Brighid personifies a bride, virgin, or maiden aspect.
Harry and Ginny read the passage in silence, and as he read, Harry's stomach plummeted as he realized to whom Brighid must refer. Who had he always pictured in white? Who had inspired him to write poetry? Who was he in love with? He tried to deny it, but the evidence was there, plain and simple. Ok, so he knew who it was. No one else had to. Hermione, Ginny and Ron didn't have to know about that dream he had had, or about how he had written poetry about her, or that his favorite feature of Ginny's was her flame-red hair. He would just keep it to himself. Ron especially didn't need to know about this. If he ever found out, not only would he kill Harry for having these feelings for his little sister, he'd probably kill him for dragging her into his destiny, as if he had written the prophecy himself or something. Right, that was settled than.
"What do you suppose it could mean, Harry?"
He was quiet, thinking for a minute, trying to figure out what to say without telling her of his suspicions. He was sure that would go over well. Well you see, Ginny, it's funny you should ask, because I had this dream about you a few weeks ago, and you were wearing white and then last night I wrote some poetry about you, so this must mean that you and I are destined to be together. So you see, it doesn't matter that you're with Justin, because I'm your true love. Yeah, that would go over superbly. Harry could see her watching him, obviously expecting an answer, when Hermione and Ron came over. He silently thanked Merlin and the Founders for not having to come up with an answer to Ginny's question.
"So, what have you found?" Hermione asked them. They showed her the book on Muggle Gods and Goddesses they had found. She looked thoughtful as well. "Hmm," she said, after mulling over it for a few minutes, "I suppose that means that Brighid refers to a girl who will be the love of Harry's life." She looked over at Harry, and though her face remained straight, he saw a glint in her eyes. That was definitely a dangerous look. No good could come of this. He was in trouble and if he made it through this without calling any suspicion to himself, then he would say something nice to Malfoy. "Have you been writing poetry lately, Harry?"
Ron laughed like he had just heard the most amusing joke in the entire world, and Ginny grinned, obviously finding this amusing as well. Though, for what reason, Harry was ignorant. He was about to answer when Ron did for him. "Oh Hermione," he began, somewhat condescendingly, "Harry here wouldn't write poetry. That's the kind of stuff that girls do."
Though Harry knew this to be completely untrue, he couldn't help but be thankful that Ron could have a chauvinist streak in him. He watched as both Hermione and Ginny went on the defensive at this comment, though it was Hermione who actually spoke. "That is completely untrue," she replied, rather haughtily, "most of the poets considered to be 'great' have been men."
Ron rolled his eyes. "Whatever. I'm just sayin' that Harry wouldn't write poetry."
"How would you know, anyway?"
"Oh, come on! I'm his best friend. I know these things about him. Here, Harry, would you write poetry?"
Harry looked Ron in the eyes, and steeled his face to remain impassive. "No," he answered simply, praying that all present would believe him. He thought Hermione was watching him closely, a look of skepticism on her face. Glancing in Ginny's direction, he thought she looked amused by the proceedings. He loved it when she looked like that. Well, at least Ron believed him.
"See, what did I tell you?"
"Hmmph," was the only response he got. Hermione obviously didn't believe him, but at least she hadn't pushed the issue. He would have to thank her later for her discretion, and somehow convince her that he was not a poet in any sense of the word.
"What did you find out?" he asked Hermione, eager to get the conversation moving in a more positive direction.
"Ron and I looked up the astronomical charts. There are no eclipses for the rest of this year. This could mean that this prophecy is not going to happen this year, or it could mean that the Sun and Moon are simply going to be at a specific angle to each other. Or it could mean that Celestia Moon was being metaphorical. That didn't take very long, so then we did some research on Turners."
"Were you able to find anything useful?" Ginny asked.
"Yes, actually, even though it was relatively difficult to find information on the subject. It seems that Turners can, in fact, manipulate space-time without the use of a wand. But that's not all they can do. It seems that Turners are very rare. There have been twelve known Turners in recorded history. It seems that Turners discover their identity on their sixteenth birthday."
"Anything else?" Harry asked.
"Not too much. It seems to be generally agreed that Turners are sorcerers of space-time magic. It seems that one Turner was the creator of the spell to Apparate. Um, let's see," Hermione said as she shuffled through her notes, "oh, right. Most of what we were able to find were what normal witches and wizards perceived Turners to be. Most accounts paint Turners as extremely secretive, and more than a few were fearful of the abilities that the Turners had. The only unanimous thing we could find was the respect and awe that normal witches and wizards had for Turners. The more recent accounts have less of this, and within the last hundred years this attitude has almost virtually disappeared because there hasn't been a Turner in nearly four hundred years."
They sat silently, mulling over all the new information they had acquired. "Do you suppose we should ask Dumbledore about this?" Ron asked the others.
Harry had considered that himself, but he was hesitant to bother the
Headmaster about this. It may not even be for this year though, if his
suspicions about Ginny were correct, then it most certainly would. Plus,
he still didn't want to admit to anyone about his feelings for Ginny Weasley,
and he was as yet uncomfortable with the thought that his love life was
already set in stone. No one had answered Ron yet, so he decided to do
so. "No, I don't think we should yet. You and Hermione couldn't have
found every book in here that dealt with Turners, so we should do a little
more research before we go to him."
This seemed to be a satisfactory answer to everyone, so they agreed to come
back the next night after dinner to find out more about these mysterious
Turners.
The four of them left the library and headed to the Gryffindor common
room, where they went their separate ways. Ron and Hermione decided to
go for a walk before they had to be back inside, and Ginny said that she
had some Arithmancy work she had to do. Harry was too preoccupied to work
on his Defense Against the Dark Arts essay he had due, so he headed up to
his dorm and got into bed, pulling the curtains around him. The fact that
he had been awake for the better part of 38 hours was finally catching up
to him, and before he knew what was happening, he had fallen asleep.