Legend
Chapter XVIII: Searching
by Marie McKinnon
The only private time Draco and Ginny had was when they were supposed to be practising their athletic endeavours. Neither really cared if they stopped using the practise sessions, as they had been very fit and healthy in the first place. To avoid suspicion from any professors looking out the castle's many windows, they stretched and talked at the same time.
She touched her toes and felt her hamstrings loosen a little bit. "How're we supposed to verify that Harry has the magic?" Coming up slowly and bending backwards from the waist, she added "I mean, we're only pretty sure. Shouldn't we be positive before anything happens?" Her stomach was tight, meaning she had gone as far back as she could. She came back to an upright position.
"Before what happens? We haven't any idea what we're supposed to end up doing." He stood on one foot, holding the opposite ankle next to his behind so his knee could be even with the other one. Sounds complicated, but it wasn't. It was just a good quad stretch.
Crossing her right arm over her torso to loosen her deltoid, she replied "We're here to defeat Voldemort. How we do it is up to us. Whatever we do, we need Harry's help. I think he's the only one who can wield Excalibur, and if that sword were given magical power, it would be a major asset." She stretched the other arm, then sat on the grass in butterfly position.
He joined her in butterfly position. "I need a sword too. Really, what sort of knight doesn't have a sword? If I'm to be the best knight, shouldn't I have one of the best swords?"
"You should, but I don't know where to get yours."
"And you know where Excalibur is?" He asked sarcastically.
Switching to the straddle splits, she answered his question disdainfully. "Yes."
"WHAT?!" Draco turned his head so quickly that he felt something click. "I take it you know where Morgan's opal is as well?"
"As a matter of fact, I do. I was chatting with one of the really old portraits in Gryffindor Tower when I first discovered I could do the wandless magic thing. She told me that Godric had been a bit of a nut about the Arthurian legend--"
He rolled his eyes. "Godric was a nut about everything."
"--and had collected a lot of relics from that time period. He then hid them in the nerve centre of his wing, and that's where they are today. We just need to find them, because she as good as told me Excalibur and Morgan's opal were there." Now in the full splits, Ginny sighed and stretched out her arm to touch the toe of her front foot.
"Should I even try that one?" He asked, indicating her position.
"No." She unfolded to stand up beside him, grinning. "I think it would be too much for you."
His mock-glare gave her shivers. "Hey! I'll get you for that."
"You have to catch me first."
"Is that your way of saying 'come get me'?" He asked, watching her dash around the far edge of the track.
Finishing her first lap, she grinned and added "To put it plainly, come get me!"
That was a challenge he wanted to meet. "All right, then," he muttered, taking long strides towards the little red ponytail bobbing up and down in front of him like the carrot in front of the donkey who needed to be bribed to walk. He definitely didn't need to be bribed to catch up with Ginny. Speeding up, he managed to cover just enough ground to run alongside of her. A long arm snaked around her waist and pinned her to his side, preventing her from running any farther. She skidded to a stop before her rapidity dragged Draco along with her.
"I said 'come get me,' not 'stop me,'" she teased. Before anything more could be said, he held her in his arms and was running hard to finish the lap. Every step thudded against the packed track. She jounced up and down in his arms, distracting his vision with a flash of red in his eyes and a silky curl against his jaw. Keep your eyes on the prize, he thought, but it was difficult to discern the prize from his two choices. Was it his girl or the end of the track? Her long legs stretched out in a relaxed line, and he made his decision. Having finally reached the starting point, his attention immediately switched to Gin. He let her stand up, not expecting an exit of any particular caliber. Her weight pressed against his chest in a line descending towards the ground. Strong fingers trailed across his shoulders. For a moment they stood like that, together with a vengeance, before she stepped aside to let him catch his breath.
"Tell me, are there any empty bedrooms in Gryffindor Tower?" He asked with a lopsided grin.
"They're all full as soon as the common room empties."
"You Gryffindors really don't waste time, do you?"
"No," she said playfully, grinning in such a devilish manner that his breath caught in his throat, "we don't."
*
Since the recent Great Hall incident, as the Gryffindors were wont to call it, Harry had gotten much closer to Ron and Hermione. His attention had all been on Ginny before, so once he managed to get himself to realize that she was spoken for, he started spending more times with his oldest and best friends. They had welcomed him back into the fold readily.
Now they sat, much like they used to, at a table in the Gryffindor common room. Hermione's books and scrolls of notes took up practically the whole table, covering it in a mound of papers that was impossible to see through. Maybe, Ron joked, they could bury Hermione in all of her papers and they wouldn't have to listen to her lectures anymore. All this earned him, however, was a long lecture on the virtues of preparation and good study skills. He stuck his tongue out at her when she continued working and wasn't looking his way.
Everything seemed much like it had been, but it wasn't. Harry was still plagued by dreams of a shimmering sword that sliced through air, hopefully the last remnant of that silver magic. He knew it wasn't the last trace of his magic, though he wanted so much to believe it that
he nearly did. There were other things he didn't want to believe. Like Ginny. She couldn't like Draco bloody Malfoy better than the Boy Who Lived, she just couldn't. Things didn't work like that. Ron didn't care; he stuck by what he'd said before. Even Malfoy could have her if he didn't try to take advantage of her. Well, he hadn't taken advantage of her, so he could have her. She certainly seemed to agree with that, so there were no objections to be made, except by Harry, who was biased.
He moaned softly. "Ron, your sister's torturing me."
"How so?" Hermione had a very good idea of how this had been accomplished, but asked for her friend's benefit.
"Every time I see her she's with Malfoy, and every time, every single time, he's got his arm around her waist or shoulders. Either that or they're holding hands. It's driving me crazy!"
Ron looked down at him, annoyed. "We've been over this. He's her boyfriend. He's allowed. You, however, are not."
"Consider yourself on probation," Hermione supplied. "You committed a slight crime, were duly punished, and now have to be on your best behaviour before she decides whether or not she can trust you."
"Whether or not I can trust whom?" Ginny knew they had been talking about her. It was written all over their faces in almost permanent marker.
Harry gave a wolfish grin and said "Speak of the Devil."
"I am far from the Devil, Potter. I'd like to speak with you for a moment, if you have the time."
Hermione and Ron raised their eyebrows. She had seemed so happy with Malfoy. Had she changed her mind, or had he changed his? Or, even stranger, did this have nothing at all to do with Malfoy?
"Sure," he replied, then paused, waiting for her to speak.
"Privately," she added. "Unless you'd like everyone to hear what I'm about to say."
"Maybe I would."
She glared viciously. "Trust me, you would not enjoy the experience."
With a casual shrug, he stood up, leaving his chair away from the table, and followed her. They wove around the tables and armchairs, not stopping, not speaking. Her mouth was set in a thin line in an unreadable face that blocked any emotions from being seen. Harry, however, had had an adrenaline rush, giving him energy to deal with whatever she said or did. His nerves were on edge, waiting for something unusual to happen, as it generally did when Ginny was around. She led him out to the Gryffindor balcony, then spelled the door.
A silvery haze covered their one exit, then vanished. He could tell it was soundproof from the lack of noise coming from the common room. By the time he had gotten himself to acknowledge that she had done a spell too advanced for even the seventh years, there was an invisible barrier around them.
"What is this?" He finally managed in outrage. "You dragged me out here on the pretext of talking to me, then created such a complicated sound-blocking layer that not even the Head Girl could have done it. Do you just not want anyone to hear?"
"If they heard, we would die," she said flatly. "No one must know."
He rolled his eyes. "Talk about melodramatic. Is this just a complicated way of getting my attention? If it is, it's working, because I'm already paying attention to the fact that you must be insane!"
She ignored his insult and sat, relaxed, on the railing. "You've been having dreams." Her eyes were the only visible light, narrowed to a glowing spark. "Dreams about a sword. Make no mistake, it isn't an ordinary sword. It won't go away until you hold it in your hand and listen to its song." Harry was tense. She could see it in the way he was standing and the way he clutched the railing with both hands. "On the first night of school this year," she hazarded, "you awoke after a dream about this sword. You were glowing, and you still have that glow. It's in your blood. You can't get rid of it."
"Who the Hell are you and what've you done with Ginny?" He shouted. Regaining his composure, he added softly "How did you know? I didn't tell anyone."
"I know from experience. Look at the barrier, Harry. It's silver, like the glow you saw. It is an exact copy of the glow you saw, but it's my magic. You know what else? You can search me. I *don't have my wand*. I don't need my wand anymore. You don't need it either, because that glow is magic."
"How? For a spell that complicated you have to have your wand." He checked her pockets, her lower back, and underneath her hair. His hand slid around to her front and crept under the hem of her shirt, but halted immediately when hers slammed over his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.
"Don't even think about it," she hissed. Harry's arms went back to his sides, and she continued her explanation. "There are three of us with the magic. It's not the magic that's important though, it's what the magic signifies."
"Three of us? You and I make two; who's the third?"
Her eyes danced. "Draco. You've heard the legend about King Arthur's return, haven't you?"
"Yes, but what does that have to do with the magic and the dreams?"
"Everything. You see, Arthur's back."
"Where is he?"
"I'm looking right at him."
*
The common room was empty for once, and black as pitch. A dying fire cast the only natural light, creating more shadows to play tricks on the imagination. Softly glittering, a ball of silver fire hovered above Ginny's head. Her hair was laced with threads of silvery gray from the light it made. She crept silently towards the fireplace, every step cautious and deliberate. Harry walked behind her, blending into the night except for his luminous green eyes and glasses reflecting the sheen of her magic. He kept walking after she'd stopped, and connected solidly with her back. Her glare was obvious even in the dark, but she didn't make a sound.
"Are you going to do it?" Harry whispered in a barely audible voice.
Her response was to raise her arms into a high "V" and stretch her hands out. Magic poured out in waves, dyeing the common room a brilliant silver. Its sparks wove into a rope, swirling around like a lasso that tried to capture its source. Ginny wasn't caught, but the fire was. Her magic captured it in a blaze of light, both silver and real, and lifted it clear of the fireplace. A passageway was revealed in the remaining glow.
"Go," she said softly. "Go if you want Excalibur."
He nodded determinedly, walking forwards with his head bent. Even Ginny was cramped in the small space, but she didn't complain. Silence was necessary, and she would keep quiet even if there were a Death Eater at the other end. As it was, she didn't feel the need to restrain a yelp when the fire fell back into place and sent the shadows forwards into their destination. There was no yelp to restrain, except in Harry's case. The fire warmed her back, a reminder of their starting point and what they had waiting for them in the common room. Family, friends, comfort, warmth, and an escape from the gruesome reality were back behind them, and every footfall brought them farther and farther away from happy ignorance. They could have had no idea about Arthur's return, the Old Magick, their fate to destroy Voldemort, or lying to their loved ones. But they had all the idea in the world, because someone had chosen them to carry the weight for everyone else. It wasn't as though everyone else didn't have many worries, because they did, but they didn't have destiny hanging in front of their noses. She shook her head a moment before she walked into Harry, who had stopped in front of a thick oaken door.
"Ouch," he whispered. "Now what?"
"Now you open the door," Ginny hissed exasperatedly.
He put his hand on the doorknob reluctantly, steeling his nerves, and turned in a rapid turn of the wrist. The door swung open squeakily, which was to be expected, as it hadn't been used in more than one thousand years.
"I have to admit, I expected something more than that," Harry grinned sheepishly, still speaking in a low voice. She nodded her agreement, pushing him gently into the room.
With a flick of her wrist the chamber was illuminated by a yellowish glow. Harry didn't have to look very hard for a sword; a midnight blue velvet cushion complemented the perfect metallic sheen of Excalibur. He walked forward as though seeing an illusion, hesitating before closing his hand around the glittering hilt. The instant he touched it a bolt of power connected the two. Watching from the entranceway, Ginny couldn't tell whether his magic accepted Excalibur or Excalibur accepted Harry. All she knew was that the triumphant grin flashing on his face would have made her weak in the knees if she'd still fancied him. His eyes shone with the power of success.
A deep, mature voice that wasn't his came from deep in his throat. "I, Arthur, son of Uther, dub thee Excalibur. Serve faithfully and well."
"Amen," she whispered reverently, her sharp eyes catching the flash of silver that raced down the blade and revealed a tall, strong teenager as England's greatest hero. Now scanning the room for her prize, she checked the corners and walls for any sign of a jewelry box or stand.
"Ginny," Harry said softly, "look over here." His hand rested on a table, on which a jewelry box lined with the same midnight blue velvet lay open. Gleaming silver was pulled taut by the perfectly round opal. Green, blue, pink, and yellow fires caught the light and reflected it across the opal's dark surface. Captivated, she walked forwards and stroked the icy stone. A shock, accompanied by a bolt of silver, ran through her finger, and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she carried part of Morgan le Fay. Catching her breath, she flicked the lock of a smaller box that was next to the open one and saw a signet, glittering and perfect, with an elaborate "M" engraved into the centre. Without a moment's hesitation she slipped it onto her right ring finger, swallowing a gasp as the metal touched her warm skin, and realized that this was what her hand had been waiting for. Every time she'd gone to a party she'd wished for a ring, and now she had one that was exclusively hers. So hers, in fact, that it had waited one thousand years for her to reclaim it.
"Aren't you going to wear the necklace?" He asked.
Typical male question, she thought. Snapping the box shut, she sighed in pleasure. Not yet. She needed to have the right person put it around her neck, and she didn't think Harry was that person.
"Not right now. I want to try to develop my magic without it first, because it could be taken away and I don't want to be helpless." Her eyes were wide in amazement as the full significance of her discovery hit her. Eyelids flickering to conceal narrowing, vindictive eyes, she grinned viciously. "Voldemort, I will avenge myself. This I swear by the power of Morgan le Fay and my own, you will not live to hurt me again."
Chapter XVIII: Searching
by Marie McKinnon
The only private time Draco and Ginny had was when they were supposed to be practising their athletic endeavours. Neither really cared if they stopped using the practise sessions, as they had been very fit and healthy in the first place. To avoid suspicion from any professors looking out the castle's many windows, they stretched and talked at the same time.
She touched her toes and felt her hamstrings loosen a little bit. "How're we supposed to verify that Harry has the magic?" Coming up slowly and bending backwards from the waist, she added "I mean, we're only pretty sure. Shouldn't we be positive before anything happens?" Her stomach was tight, meaning she had gone as far back as she could. She came back to an upright position.
"Before what happens? We haven't any idea what we're supposed to end up doing." He stood on one foot, holding the opposite ankle next to his behind so his knee could be even with the other one. Sounds complicated, but it wasn't. It was just a good quad stretch.
Crossing her right arm over her torso to loosen her deltoid, she replied "We're here to defeat Voldemort. How we do it is up to us. Whatever we do, we need Harry's help. I think he's the only one who can wield Excalibur, and if that sword were given magical power, it would be a major asset." She stretched the other arm, then sat on the grass in butterfly position.
He joined her in butterfly position. "I need a sword too. Really, what sort of knight doesn't have a sword? If I'm to be the best knight, shouldn't I have one of the best swords?"
"You should, but I don't know where to get yours."
"And you know where Excalibur is?" He asked sarcastically.
Switching to the straddle splits, she answered his question disdainfully. "Yes."
"WHAT?!" Draco turned his head so quickly that he felt something click. "I take it you know where Morgan's opal is as well?"
"As a matter of fact, I do. I was chatting with one of the really old portraits in Gryffindor Tower when I first discovered I could do the wandless magic thing. She told me that Godric had been a bit of a nut about the Arthurian legend--"
He rolled his eyes. "Godric was a nut about everything."
"--and had collected a lot of relics from that time period. He then hid them in the nerve centre of his wing, and that's where they are today. We just need to find them, because she as good as told me Excalibur and Morgan's opal were there." Now in the full splits, Ginny sighed and stretched out her arm to touch the toe of her front foot.
"Should I even try that one?" He asked, indicating her position.
"No." She unfolded to stand up beside him, grinning. "I think it would be too much for you."
His mock-glare gave her shivers. "Hey! I'll get you for that."
"You have to catch me first."
"Is that your way of saying 'come get me'?" He asked, watching her dash around the far edge of the track.
Finishing her first lap, she grinned and added "To put it plainly, come get me!"
That was a challenge he wanted to meet. "All right, then," he muttered, taking long strides towards the little red ponytail bobbing up and down in front of him like the carrot in front of the donkey who needed to be bribed to walk. He definitely didn't need to be bribed to catch up with Ginny. Speeding up, he managed to cover just enough ground to run alongside of her. A long arm snaked around her waist and pinned her to his side, preventing her from running any farther. She skidded to a stop before her rapidity dragged Draco along with her.
"I said 'come get me,' not 'stop me,'" she teased. Before anything more could be said, he held her in his arms and was running hard to finish the lap. Every step thudded against the packed track. She jounced up and down in his arms, distracting his vision with a flash of red in his eyes and a silky curl against his jaw. Keep your eyes on the prize, he thought, but it was difficult to discern the prize from his two choices. Was it his girl or the end of the track? Her long legs stretched out in a relaxed line, and he made his decision. Having finally reached the starting point, his attention immediately switched to Gin. He let her stand up, not expecting an exit of any particular caliber. Her weight pressed against his chest in a line descending towards the ground. Strong fingers trailed across his shoulders. For a moment they stood like that, together with a vengeance, before she stepped aside to let him catch his breath.
"Tell me, are there any empty bedrooms in Gryffindor Tower?" He asked with a lopsided grin.
"They're all full as soon as the common room empties."
"You Gryffindors really don't waste time, do you?"
"No," she said playfully, grinning in such a devilish manner that his breath caught in his throat, "we don't."
*
Since the recent Great Hall incident, as the Gryffindors were wont to call it, Harry had gotten much closer to Ron and Hermione. His attention had all been on Ginny before, so once he managed to get himself to realize that she was spoken for, he started spending more times with his oldest and best friends. They had welcomed him back into the fold readily.
Now they sat, much like they used to, at a table in the Gryffindor common room. Hermione's books and scrolls of notes took up practically the whole table, covering it in a mound of papers that was impossible to see through. Maybe, Ron joked, they could bury Hermione in all of her papers and they wouldn't have to listen to her lectures anymore. All this earned him, however, was a long lecture on the virtues of preparation and good study skills. He stuck his tongue out at her when she continued working and wasn't looking his way.
Everything seemed much like it had been, but it wasn't. Harry was still plagued by dreams of a shimmering sword that sliced through air, hopefully the last remnant of that silver magic. He knew it wasn't the last trace of his magic, though he wanted so much to believe it that
he nearly did. There were other things he didn't want to believe. Like Ginny. She couldn't like Draco bloody Malfoy better than the Boy Who Lived, she just couldn't. Things didn't work like that. Ron didn't care; he stuck by what he'd said before. Even Malfoy could have her if he didn't try to take advantage of her. Well, he hadn't taken advantage of her, so he could have her. She certainly seemed to agree with that, so there were no objections to be made, except by Harry, who was biased.
He moaned softly. "Ron, your sister's torturing me."
"How so?" Hermione had a very good idea of how this had been accomplished, but asked for her friend's benefit.
"Every time I see her she's with Malfoy, and every time, every single time, he's got his arm around her waist or shoulders. Either that or they're holding hands. It's driving me crazy!"
Ron looked down at him, annoyed. "We've been over this. He's her boyfriend. He's allowed. You, however, are not."
"Consider yourself on probation," Hermione supplied. "You committed a slight crime, were duly punished, and now have to be on your best behaviour before she decides whether or not she can trust you."
"Whether or not I can trust whom?" Ginny knew they had been talking about her. It was written all over their faces in almost permanent marker.
Harry gave a wolfish grin and said "Speak of the Devil."
"I am far from the Devil, Potter. I'd like to speak with you for a moment, if you have the time."
Hermione and Ron raised their eyebrows. She had seemed so happy with Malfoy. Had she changed her mind, or had he changed his? Or, even stranger, did this have nothing at all to do with Malfoy?
"Sure," he replied, then paused, waiting for her to speak.
"Privately," she added. "Unless you'd like everyone to hear what I'm about to say."
"Maybe I would."
She glared viciously. "Trust me, you would not enjoy the experience."
With a casual shrug, he stood up, leaving his chair away from the table, and followed her. They wove around the tables and armchairs, not stopping, not speaking. Her mouth was set in a thin line in an unreadable face that blocked any emotions from being seen. Harry, however, had had an adrenaline rush, giving him energy to deal with whatever she said or did. His nerves were on edge, waiting for something unusual to happen, as it generally did when Ginny was around. She led him out to the Gryffindor balcony, then spelled the door.
A silvery haze covered their one exit, then vanished. He could tell it was soundproof from the lack of noise coming from the common room. By the time he had gotten himself to acknowledge that she had done a spell too advanced for even the seventh years, there was an invisible barrier around them.
"What is this?" He finally managed in outrage. "You dragged me out here on the pretext of talking to me, then created such a complicated sound-blocking layer that not even the Head Girl could have done it. Do you just not want anyone to hear?"
"If they heard, we would die," she said flatly. "No one must know."
He rolled his eyes. "Talk about melodramatic. Is this just a complicated way of getting my attention? If it is, it's working, because I'm already paying attention to the fact that you must be insane!"
She ignored his insult and sat, relaxed, on the railing. "You've been having dreams." Her eyes were the only visible light, narrowed to a glowing spark. "Dreams about a sword. Make no mistake, it isn't an ordinary sword. It won't go away until you hold it in your hand and listen to its song." Harry was tense. She could see it in the way he was standing and the way he clutched the railing with both hands. "On the first night of school this year," she hazarded, "you awoke after a dream about this sword. You were glowing, and you still have that glow. It's in your blood. You can't get rid of it."
"Who the Hell are you and what've you done with Ginny?" He shouted. Regaining his composure, he added softly "How did you know? I didn't tell anyone."
"I know from experience. Look at the barrier, Harry. It's silver, like the glow you saw. It is an exact copy of the glow you saw, but it's my magic. You know what else? You can search me. I *don't have my wand*. I don't need my wand anymore. You don't need it either, because that glow is magic."
"How? For a spell that complicated you have to have your wand." He checked her pockets, her lower back, and underneath her hair. His hand slid around to her front and crept under the hem of her shirt, but halted immediately when hers slammed over his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.
"Don't even think about it," she hissed. Harry's arms went back to his sides, and she continued her explanation. "There are three of us with the magic. It's not the magic that's important though, it's what the magic signifies."
"Three of us? You and I make two; who's the third?"
Her eyes danced. "Draco. You've heard the legend about King Arthur's return, haven't you?"
"Yes, but what does that have to do with the magic and the dreams?"
"Everything. You see, Arthur's back."
"Where is he?"
"I'm looking right at him."
*
The common room was empty for once, and black as pitch. A dying fire cast the only natural light, creating more shadows to play tricks on the imagination. Softly glittering, a ball of silver fire hovered above Ginny's head. Her hair was laced with threads of silvery gray from the light it made. She crept silently towards the fireplace, every step cautious and deliberate. Harry walked behind her, blending into the night except for his luminous green eyes and glasses reflecting the sheen of her magic. He kept walking after she'd stopped, and connected solidly with her back. Her glare was obvious even in the dark, but she didn't make a sound.
"Are you going to do it?" Harry whispered in a barely audible voice.
Her response was to raise her arms into a high "V" and stretch her hands out. Magic poured out in waves, dyeing the common room a brilliant silver. Its sparks wove into a rope, swirling around like a lasso that tried to capture its source. Ginny wasn't caught, but the fire was. Her magic captured it in a blaze of light, both silver and real, and lifted it clear of the fireplace. A passageway was revealed in the remaining glow.
"Go," she said softly. "Go if you want Excalibur."
He nodded determinedly, walking forwards with his head bent. Even Ginny was cramped in the small space, but she didn't complain. Silence was necessary, and she would keep quiet even if there were a Death Eater at the other end. As it was, she didn't feel the need to restrain a yelp when the fire fell back into place and sent the shadows forwards into their destination. There was no yelp to restrain, except in Harry's case. The fire warmed her back, a reminder of their starting point and what they had waiting for them in the common room. Family, friends, comfort, warmth, and an escape from the gruesome reality were back behind them, and every footfall brought them farther and farther away from happy ignorance. They could have had no idea about Arthur's return, the Old Magick, their fate to destroy Voldemort, or lying to their loved ones. But they had all the idea in the world, because someone had chosen them to carry the weight for everyone else. It wasn't as though everyone else didn't have many worries, because they did, but they didn't have destiny hanging in front of their noses. She shook her head a moment before she walked into Harry, who had stopped in front of a thick oaken door.
"Ouch," he whispered. "Now what?"
"Now you open the door," Ginny hissed exasperatedly.
He put his hand on the doorknob reluctantly, steeling his nerves, and turned in a rapid turn of the wrist. The door swung open squeakily, which was to be expected, as it hadn't been used in more than one thousand years.
"I have to admit, I expected something more than that," Harry grinned sheepishly, still speaking in a low voice. She nodded her agreement, pushing him gently into the room.
With a flick of her wrist the chamber was illuminated by a yellowish glow. Harry didn't have to look very hard for a sword; a midnight blue velvet cushion complemented the perfect metallic sheen of Excalibur. He walked forward as though seeing an illusion, hesitating before closing his hand around the glittering hilt. The instant he touched it a bolt of power connected the two. Watching from the entranceway, Ginny couldn't tell whether his magic accepted Excalibur or Excalibur accepted Harry. All she knew was that the triumphant grin flashing on his face would have made her weak in the knees if she'd still fancied him. His eyes shone with the power of success.
A deep, mature voice that wasn't his came from deep in his throat. "I, Arthur, son of Uther, dub thee Excalibur. Serve faithfully and well."
"Amen," she whispered reverently, her sharp eyes catching the flash of silver that raced down the blade and revealed a tall, strong teenager as England's greatest hero. Now scanning the room for her prize, she checked the corners and walls for any sign of a jewelry box or stand.
"Ginny," Harry said softly, "look over here." His hand rested on a table, on which a jewelry box lined with the same midnight blue velvet lay open. Gleaming silver was pulled taut by the perfectly round opal. Green, blue, pink, and yellow fires caught the light and reflected it across the opal's dark surface. Captivated, she walked forwards and stroked the icy stone. A shock, accompanied by a bolt of silver, ran through her finger, and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she carried part of Morgan le Fay. Catching her breath, she flicked the lock of a smaller box that was next to the open one and saw a signet, glittering and perfect, with an elaborate "M" engraved into the centre. Without a moment's hesitation she slipped it onto her right ring finger, swallowing a gasp as the metal touched her warm skin, and realized that this was what her hand had been waiting for. Every time she'd gone to a party she'd wished for a ring, and now she had one that was exclusively hers. So hers, in fact, that it had waited one thousand years for her to reclaim it.
"Aren't you going to wear the necklace?" He asked.
Typical male question, she thought. Snapping the box shut, she sighed in pleasure. Not yet. She needed to have the right person put it around her neck, and she didn't think Harry was that person.
"Not right now. I want to try to develop my magic without it first, because it could be taken away and I don't want to be helpless." Her eyes were wide in amazement as the full significance of her discovery hit her. Eyelids flickering to conceal narrowing, vindictive eyes, she grinned viciously. "Voldemort, I will avenge myself. This I swear by the power of Morgan le Fay and my own, you will not live to hurt me again."