Here's the next installment in double-quick time. I rather enjoyed writing this - let me know what you think! Apologies for the cliffhanger, and for what I'm doing to JKR's world. The more reviews I get the faster the next chapter will progress…it's going to be a difficult one to write so I need LOTS of encouragement!!
Enjoy!
***
"Through me you pass into the city of woe:
Through me you pass into eternal pain…
All hope abandon, ye who enter here."
The Lady Vanishes
Harry poured over the report in The Daily Prophet for the third time during his Sunday morning breakfast, Ginny leaning in close to his shoulder so she could see it too. The reality was far worse than he could have imagined when he'd woken up with scar pains yesterday. The student who had been taken from the castle was a first year girl from Ravenclaw, someone none of them really knew, but that didn't eradicate the impact of what had happened to her. His toast lay forgotten on his plate, as he read and reread the vicious destruction of the entire McCallum family.
It was immediately clear as to why this particular family had been targeted by the Death Eaters. Mr McCallum had been a senior Ministry of Magic official, who had been heavily involved in the trials of many of Voldemort's supporters, many of whom were still confined by the Dementors in Azkaban. He had been tortured for Ministry information, but as far as the newspaper was aware, he had resisted.
The report had sickened them all, especially finding out about how they had used his wife and children. When it had become apparent to the Death Eaters that Mr McCallum was not going to give in to their pressure, they forced him to watch them perform the Cruciatus Curse repeatedly on his wife, his eleven year old daughter, and nine year old son.
There was a further large spread in the newspaper about Hogwarts. Lucy McCallum should have been safe at school, and The Daily Prophet was outraged that such a thing could happen to her. It called for an immediate investigation as to how this could have occurred, and raised the question of the safety of the rest of the students, even wondering if the school should be closed. Much was made of the fact that this was the third time in four years that students had found themselves in mortal peril whilst supposedly in the care of Albus Dumbledore, and the last two occasions had resulted in violent deaths.
Harry looked up from the newspaper, his hands trembling and stomach churning unpleasantly. He felt a hand gently touch his back.
"Let's go for a walk," Ginny whispered softly so only he could hear. He nodded, wanting to talk with her and knowing she understood.
***
Nothing had been found when the teachers had combed the castle for any sort of portal or port key, but with such a colossal task of checking every item within the vastness of the castle, it was virtually impossible. That morning they had been set free from the confines of their common room, with the caveat that they must be careful and touch nothing out of the ordinary. Lessons resumed as normal on Monday morning with Professor Trelawney predicting Harry's death with more certainty and conviction than ever. Then the days and weeks slowly slid by in a haze.
Transfiguration was the final double lesson of the day each Tuesday, and Professor McGonagall was making them work extremely hard to ensure excellent results. They had begun to study human transfiguration, and so far it had all been theory, and very dusty and dry theory at that. As March crept into sight, she delighted most of the class by announcing at the start of the lesson that they were ready to attempt a simple transfiguration of themselves. It was going to be into some sort of object, rather than into a living creature or plant, which was far more difficult and wouldn't be studied until the sixth and seventh years. Neville looked absolutely terrified by the prospect of changing his appearance at all, mainly because he was having more trouble than ever with his magic.
"We'll start with something quite basic," Professor McGonagall said crisply, directing them to page two-hundred and twelve of their text books. "The transfiguration exercises you'll find here will only alter your appearance for a couple of minutes, so they are ideal to begin with. Choose one of the objects listed, and try it on yourself. No one else. Do you hear me, Thomas?" she added sternly to Dean, who was idly gazing out of the window. "Remember, concentration is the key."
Harry saw Hermione briskly rolling her sleeves up, eager to try her hand at this new form of transfiguration, and quickly exchanged glances with Ron. Personally, Harry was more inclined to feel like Neville about transforming himself. Supposing he got stuck half-way, and had to spend the rest of the day as part saucepan. It didn't bear thinking about.
"What are you going to go for?" Ron muttered to Harry, as they scanned down the list of objects.
"Dunno," Harry said. "Erm, how about a broomstick? I've ridden one often enough, so I suppose I might as well see it from the other side. How about you?"
"I'm quite tempted by the kettle," Ron said in a deadly serious tone, making Harry choke back a laugh. "I can see me as a kettle, can't you? Or maybe I should be a plant pot? No. No, definitely the kettle. What are you going to do Hermione?" He turned around to look at his girlfriend to be confronted by a grandfather clock ticking gently away in the middle of the room. "Fair enough," he laughed at her, patting the casing affectionately. "Nice carving, Hermione." The time piece chimed the quarter hour in reply.
"Oh, very good Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall's voice cut across the classroom. "Now let's see what the rest of you can do."
Harry really tried. He screwed up his face in concentration and attempted to cast the spell on himself. It felt very strange to be doing this; apart from the polyjuice potion they'd spent most of the last five years doing magic on other things. A warm, tingling sensation filled him as he focused his wand and his mind on his task and he got the distinct impression that his limbs were dissolving until they were made entirely of molten rubber. He glanced down at his fingers a few minutes later to see what had changed, and saw that there were still there.
"You've done part of it, Harry," Ron laughed at him. "Love the new hair style."
Harry felt the twigs protruding from his head, and was entertained to discover that they stuck out at all angles, pretty much like his hair did normally. He glanced over at Ron, whose skin had turned a shiny silvery colour and provided a startling contrast to the vibrancy of his red hair. As Ron spoke, steam came out of his mouth, but other than that, he was no nearer to being a kettle than Harry was to being a broom..
"Told you that you should have spent longer leaning the theory," Hermione smiled at the pair of them, having now reverted to her normal form.
"What's that ticking noise, Hermione?" Ron said suddenly, an expression of sheer delight crossing his face as he moved closer to her, listening carefully.
"Oh, nothing," said Hermione quickly, turning slightly pink.
"No, I can definitely hear it," Ron assured her, the silvery sheen beginning to fade from his face, to be replaced by his freckles and a wicked grin. "Don't tell me Hermione Granger's made a mistake? Maybe you should have spent longer learning the theory."
"Ron! It's not funny," she snapped, tears suddenly filling her eyes. "I did work on it; you know I did."
"It's OK," he reassured her hastily, when he realised that she was genuinely upset. Harry thought he understood why. The last time Hermione had transformed herself into anything was with the polyjuice potion back in their second year and it had gone badly wrong, resulting in a lengthy stay in the hospital wing until she'd stopped looking like Millicent Bulstrode's cat. Ron had his arm around Hermione now, and was anxiously looking for Professor McGonagall to help her. "Honestly, Hermione. We get stuff wrong all the time; just think about Harry's teapot. They'll be able to fix this, no worries."
She smiled weakly, but her mind was put to ease by Professor McGonagall, who was brisk and business-like on the topic.
"It's a perfectly normal side-effect Miss Granger. You'll find it'll wear off in an hour or so. I suggest you read Chapter 13 of 'Transfiguration Traits' to improve your technique. It offers a few suggestions of ways to avoid the longer term effects of personal transfiguration."
When they left the classroom at the end of the lesson, they could hear the storm that had been brewing earlier in the day worsening. The wind forcefully rattled the windows in their frames, battering wildly against the castle walls, whilst the thunder rumbled ominously in the distance. The sky was overcast and heavy with darkness, ever-deepening clouds swirling lower as rain began to pound steadily. A shock of white brilliance shot its bolt nearby, illuminating the corridor for a breath of a second, and vanishing once more.
"I'm glad I'm not out in that," Ron commented, staring out of the corridor window at the wildness outside. "I take it you're not mad enough to go ahead with Quidditch practice tonight, Harry?"
"I think we can give it a miss, just this once," Harry replied, smiling to himself. "I was thinking of loitering here for a while to try and see Ginny. She's just had Muggle Studies, so she should be heading this way any minute."
"Oh yes?" Ron raised his eyebrows, and grinned at Harry, making him blush slightly. "Since when did my little sister become more important than Quidditch?"
"I'm going to the library to see about that book Professor McGonagall recommended," Hermione interrupted, accompanied by a steady ticking sound. "I want to get this right before next lesson. Unless either of you desperately want a visit to the library, how about I just see you both at dinner?"
They both nodded at her and she hurried off down the corridor with her books, robes flapping out in her wake.
"Ginny seems happy these days," Ron commented, completely out of the blue, as he gazed out at the storm. Harry glanced out through the misted panes to see a straggle of extremely bedraggled Hufflepuff third years stagger towards the castle from their Care of Magical Creatures at Hagrid's cabin.
"It's probably the Muggle poetry," Harry said jokingly. "I can't get her to put the book down."
"That's amazing enough for Ginny," Ron laughed. Seeing Harry's puzzled expression, he explained further. "She's clever, you know. She picks up things a lot more quickly than I do, and what's even more frustrating is that she's got the talent to get as many O.W.L.s as Bill or Percy without really trying. The only thing she's ever had trouble with is Divination, but that's no surprise really; you know what Trelawney's like. Ginny's problem is she gets bored too quickly, so this Muggle poetry business is quite an eye opener. Dad's dying with pride about the whole thing."
"I'll bet," Harry smiled, stunned at what he was learning about Ginny. There was so much about her he still didn't know, that he hadn't even bothered to find out.
Before he had a chance to interrogate Ron further about his sister, a rush of Gryffindor fourth years flowed down the stairs beside them, heading from Muggle Studies down to the Great Hall. Harry was beginning to wonder if he'd somehow missed Ginny in the tide of students when she appeared, swinging her books in her hand and humming quietly to herself as she bounced down each step. Her dark eyes lit up with happiness as she saw Harry waiting for her.
"Can I kidnap you for dinner?" Harry asked, unable to stop himself from grinning at her. Her face fell.
"Oh Harry! I'd love to but I can't," she replied. "I promised Colin I'd help him with his summoning charms, and I can't let him down because we've got a test tomorrow. I'm really sorry."
"That's OK," Harry sighed, ruffling her hair gently with his fingers, and hating every inch of Colin Creevey with all his heart.
"How about later tonight?" she asked him, as a peal of thunder growled savagely outside the window. "I've got a bit of homework, but it's not too bad."
"Don't talk to us about homework," Ron interjected bitterly. "Ours is about the size of a mountain troll, and it's all due in tomorrow."
"Ah!" she said sympathetically. Her brother glared at her, and then deliberately wandered a little way up the corridor to stare at a portrait of ancient Quidditch players scoring goals and give them a few minutes alone.
"See you for breakfast, then?" Harry muttered in her ear, as he took advantage of Ron's obliging lack of attention and hugged her.
"Looks like it," she smiled wistfully. "Are you sure you don't mind? I feel bad about this."
"I'll live with it," he teased. "Go on, before I change my mind and run off with you altogether."
She stood on tiptoes, leaning against him to brush a tingling kiss softly against his cheek, making him catch his breath.
"I love you," she whispered, blushing slightly, before scurrying off down the corridor towards the Charms classrooms leaving Harry in stunned silence.
She loved him.
He blinked and the realisation hit him hard, like being run over by the Knight Bus. He loved her; totally, unconditionally. He loved everything that made her uniquely Ginny; the way she screwed up her nose when she was trying to concentrate, the way she drove her brothers insane with her incessant teasing, and he even loved her incredible audacity when she stole his last pair of clean socks. He adored the way he could tell her anything, and knew she'd understand, but most of all he simply loved being near her.
Heart beating quickly, he glanced down the corridor. He had to find her. Right now.
Before he'd taken more than a couple of steps his bag split open, text books cascading out of it and onto the floor. His bottle of ink shot forwards and smashed messily against the wall beneath the portrait of an elderly woman, with her hair scraped tightly back into a very severe bun. She stared disapprovingly at Harry, as he scrabbled around on the floor, desperately trying to rescue everything as quickly as possible.
"What happened?" Ron asked, hurrying over and bending to help Harry salvage his books.
"Bag split," Harry muttered, waving his hand at the mess by way of explanation. He looked at Ron vaguely. He'd completely forgotten that he'd been there.
"I'm not surprised," Ron said, frowning at Harry and holding out the Hour Stone. "Why are you carrying this around with you? It must weigh as much as a baby hippogriff."
"I was going to use it in the Quidditch changing rooms," Harry confessed, his mind still reeling over Ginny. "To see if we could eavesdrop on the Slytherin tactics for next weekend. No good tonight though."
"Excellent plan," Ron said, sounding very impressed. "I wish I'd thought of that."
"Ron, I've got to go and find Ginny," Harry blurted out, stuffing everything back into his magically repaired school bag and swinging it over his shoulder.
"But you've just seen her," Ron stammered, totally perplexed by what was going on. "What's up Harry?"
Harry didn't wait to discuss it further, and sprinted along the corridor towards the Charms classrooms. The Hour Stone was heavy and banged viciously against his leg forcing Harry to slow his pace. Ron caught up with him, and as they rounded the corner to head East they heard a female voice yell furiously,
"Give it back!"
"That's Ginny," Ron panted, grinning over at Harry. "I'd recognise those dulcet tones anywhere. I pity the git who's upset her."
"No!" her terrified shriek rebounded along the corridor, halting both boys momentarily in their tracks. A squeal of pain followed and then silence.
"Something's wrong," Harry gasped, his heart in his mouth. Ignoring the stone bruising his leg, he pounded down the corridor, desperately seeking any sign of her whirlwind of red hair, but found none. Turning round at the dead end, he saw Ron standing, staring down at something, looking quite aghast. He fled back along the hall.
"What?" he yelled frantically.
"Her books." Ron, pointed shakily to a small pile of books beside the foot of a suit of armour, and more alarmingly, the crumpled copy of Ginny's poetry book thrown open on the floor, the pages torn and gently fluttering in the light movement of air they'd caused. Harry knelt to gently pick it up, smoothing the pages in his hands.
"Where is she?" He looked at Ron, hoping against hope that his worst fears weren't about to come true.
"I dunno," Ron replied, looking as anxious as Harry felt. "But there's no way she'd leave her Muggle poetry like this."
Harry got to his feet and began searching frantically for her, running his hands through his hair in desperation. His eye caught sight of another object nearby, a pale wooden stem, lying half hidden behind a grey stone statue of a dwarf in the corner. He stooped to retrieve it, and his fears immediately intensified. Ginny's wand. She wouldn't have gone anywhere voluntarily without that.
"Ron," he said helplessly, not daring to think. "Where is she?"
"The Hour Stone," Ron yelled suddenly. "It might help…"
"It shows the future, not the past," Harry snapped.
"Shut up and listen for a change," Ron shouted back. "If we look at the future we might be able to work it out backwards. It's better than nothing."
Harry yanked it out of his bag with shaking fingers, panic gripping every inch of his being.
"Praedictum," he tapped the stone, and watched fearfully as the images began to form. His blood ran cold. Moments later he steeled himself to look at Ron, a feeling of nausea rising in his throat, that of bitterest bile. He couldn't breathe. His head was spinning with sheer terror. Ron was ghastly white, eyes still staring transfixed in horror at the stone, even though it was opaque once more. Something Ginny had once said to him fluttered through Harry's mind:
"Who knows how long we've got; a week, a month, a year, a life time?"
They had been together for three months; just three months.
"I won't let it happen," Harry whispered hoarsely. "Get Dumbledore. I'll go and get her back. Whatever it takes, I won't let anything happen to her."
"Harry, I'll come with you." Ron was shaking as much as he was. "You can't do this on your own. Why didn't that bloody protection spell work?"
" I don't know, but I've been lucky before," Harry said grimly. "Get Dumbledore. He'll know what to do." He tucked Ginny's wand into his belt, and nodded seriously over at Ron. "I promise I'll get her out of there somehow. It's me they're really after, so I'll just have to make sure they stay away from her, one way or another."
"Harry?"
"Mm?"
"Be careful. All right?" Ron said shakily, putting his hand onto Harry's shoulder.
Harry nodded mutely, worry twisting and wringing his stomach tightly.
"Get Dumbledore," he repeated. Then without a backwards glance, his throat dry with what he might find, he paced forwards. Hagrid had told him once that this time would come and they'd have to meet it when they did. Well, he needed to do that now all right. He had to.
Clasping his own wand tightly, he reached out a quivering hand, and firmly touched the stone statue of the dwarf with the twisted beard half hidden in shadows.