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JKR is the God. I'm angling to become a puppeteer in her world…
Broken Dreams
'The mirror
crack'd from side to side;
"The
curse is come upon me," cried
The
Lady of Shalott.'
"Harry! Harry! Wake up!" A familiar voice hissed through the darkness, a hand shaking him roughly. Harry sat up rapidly, prising his heavy eyelids open as he did so, and running a hand through his tousled hair in confusion.
"What?" he yawned, moving over to let Ginny clamber through the hangings and into bed beside him. "Argh! Cold feet!"
"Shh!" she giggled. "You'll wake the others up if you're not careful."
"Mmm," Harry agreed sleepily, cuddling into her, and running a gentle hand over her stomach. "Nice," he muttered contentedly. He felt a firm tugging on his pyjama jacket and forced his eyes open again.
"Baby wants some ice-cream," Ginny whispered in his ear.
"Right," he said sleepily.
"No, Harry," she insisted. "You don't understand. Baby wants some ice-cream NOW!"
"Now?" he echoed, fumbling for his glasses, and squinting unsuccessfully at his watch through the darkness. "But it's the middle of the night."
"Please?" she begged, looking up at him with soulful brown eyes that tore at his heart. "I s'pose if you're too tired, I could go myself…"
"Absolutely not," Harry interrupted her firmly, remembering the disastrous last occasion when she had attempted to visit the kitchens. "I'll go, just give me a chance."
"Thanks," she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly.
"Come on," he whispered, sliding out of bed into the chill of the night air and grabbing a few necessary items from his trunk. Her grin could be seen distinctly through the inky-blue light, and without another word they silently crept towards the door. A sudden snorting from Neville made Harry freeze. Heart beating quickly, he waited, the silence seeming to last for aeons, before the regularity of soft snoring began again. Harry quickly ushered Ginny through the dormitory door, onto the landing beyond.
Harry was thankful to see that the common room was entirely deserted, a lively fire crackling and leaping in the grate.
"Are you sure you don't mind?" Ginny asked anxiously, her hand rubbing the small of her back as she stretched the muscles, grimacing slightly.
"Positive," Harry smiled, shaking out the invisibility cloak. "I'll be back before you know it. Any particular flavour tonight?"
"Banana," she replied, without hesitation. "The baby definitely likes banana."
"This kid of ours has a lot to answer for," Harry chuckled. "I shall have words with him when he eventually arrives. Are you sure you're OK? Come on, sit down for a while."
"I'm fine," she smiled up at him, and obediently curled up in an armchair beside the fire. "A few aches and pains sometimes, but that's nothing out of the ordinary."
"I could rub your back if you want," Harry began, but was cut off before he could get any further.
"Ice-cream," Ginny said, in a steely voice, which brooked no opposition. Harry took one look at the expression on her face and grabbed his invisibility cloak.
"Back soon." He kissed her, and with a swift glance at the Marauders' Map, he slipped out of the portrait hole, and into the night.
The corridors were silent. Moonlight streamed through the lofty windows, eerily stretching pale blue rectangles across the floor, glinting off suits of armour. Harry crept stealthily down corridor after corridor, past slumbering portraits, and paused in a patch of moonlight at the head of the stairs, checking the map carefully, before he slunk into the shadows to descend. Encountering the stone floor of the entrance hall, he shivered suddenly, but followed the now familiar path, turning left along the flagged floor and down a flight of stone steps, stumbling slightly as he missed his footing in the velvety darkness. Counting the paces along the corridor, he paused instinctively beside a portrait, and reached out and tickled part of it. A chuckling noise assaulted his ears, and he seized the door handle that appeared, slipping inside the kitchen and closing the door firmly behind him.
The kitchen itself was in darkness, a few hours still before the bustle of the House Elves would shatter the stillness of the vast room in their efficient breakfast preparations. The brass pots and pans shone in the moonlight, seeming to shift slightly before his gaze as he crossed to the smaller, darker pantry area beyond. An icy draft ran its fingers across the back of his neck, making him shudder. Small goosebumps tingled across his skin. The silence surrounding him seemed to thicken; his heart thumped erratically, pounding ever louder in his ears as he carefully reached into the cupboard.
The chill of the magical frost assaulted his fingers, and he groped blindly through the contents of the shelves, seeking Ginny's desire. The tub slipped from between his fingers; he fumbled badly and suppressed a yell of anguish as it landed heavily on his foot. Hopping slightly, he massaged his aching toes, fervently hoping that Ginny wouldn't have this craving for too much longer. This was becoming ridiculous.
He bent to retrieve the fallen item, but stopped abruptly, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling. Something was there, moving in the kitchen. Someone. A footfall. Slow steps shuffled closer, a thin beam of wand light pierced through the darkness of the pantry. Harry backed warily away, clutching the folds of his invisibility cloak tightly around him as the ray of light became stronger and the silhouette of a familiar figure was framed in the doorway. Harry bit his lip hard, to stop himself from breaking into nervous laughter, the pain of the action bringing with it the seriousness of his predicament. How on earth was he going to explain this if he was caught?
Her red tartan dressing gown illuminated by wand light, Professor McGonagall scanned her beam around the small pantry, her beam finally pausing, penetrating right through the very spot where Harry was cowering. The beam twitched slightly as she examined the shelves behind him.
"Ah, there they are!" she exclaimed softly to herself. Squinting at the bright light, Harry suddenly felt his throat turn bone-dry, and he seemed unable to move a millimetre. He tried to swallow. She would find him. He might be invisible, but he was still solid to the touch. The wand moved closer. This was it.
Harry galvanised himself into action, slipping silently sideways to conceal himself behind the table weighed down with the vast quantities of fruit that were consumed at Hogwarts each day. In his haste, his foot caught on the table leg, and he found himself tumbling headlong onto the floor with a painful and very audible thump. He desperately grabbed at the table in a desperate attempt to steady himself, but to no avail. Oranges, apples, fruits of every size and shape rained down upon him, bouncing off his body and rolling across the floor. In panic, Harry scrabbled to his feet, slipping on the fruit and crashing heavily on his knees on the hard stone floor. An involuntary groan burst out of him.
The candles in the room flickered to life at a single command, casting the entire room into clear focus. Professor McGonagall, dark hair tied loosely in a ponytail, surveyed the debris, her lips pressed firmly together in the way that only she could. The adrenaline pounded round Harry's body, the rhythm of his quickening heart drumming in his ears. There was no way out. She knew.
"Potter!" It wasn't a question. Professor McGonagall's crisp tones broke through the stillness of the night. "I suggest that you reappear immediately and tidy up this mess."
Knowing that he was caught, his heart sank and Harry pulled the cloak hood from his face, looking fearfully at the Head of Gryffindor House. Quite what the punishment for this would be, he didn't like to think, but judging by the look on Professor McGonagall's face, he would be lucky to emerge unscathed.
"Just what did you think you were doing?" she snapped, glaring fiercely at him. "Down here, out of bounds and in the middle of the night? One of my prefects as well! I've got a good mind to stop you from playing in the next Quidditch match. I expected better of you than this, and I would have hoped by now that you were actually beginning to develop a sense of responsibility. It seems I was wrong."
"Sorry," Harry responded guiltily, stooping to gather up the stray fruit on the floor, and dumping it back on the table. His teacher watched him in silence for a while, frowning heavily at him.
"What are you doing down here anyway?" she demanded.
"Ginny wanted some ice-cream," Harry responded, retrieving a pineapple from under the table. "It's a craving thing. I wouldn't let her come down."
"I should think not," Professor McGonagall responded in a kinder tone. "But really, Potter, you can't be wandering around like this at night."
"I know. I know," Harry burst out, feeling completely frustrated by the whole thing. "But what else am I supposed to do? She can't sleep when she gets like this. It's really difficult to carry on as normal, you know, because everything's not normal, and we don't even get a chance to talk about the baby most of the time, let alone anything else. It's impossible."
"I see," Professor McGonagall said gravely. "And Miss Weasley is finding this too?"
"Ginny's managing," Harry replied, with a shrug. "It's getting far harder for her now that the baby's getting bigger, but she'll not give up. You know what she's like."
"Indeed," Professor McGonagall smiled. "However, I think we should reconsider the current arrangements. I am sure that certain allowances can be made to make life a little easier for you both, and these nocturnal expeditions quite unnecessary."
"We can't let anyone know," Harry insisted vehemently. "I can put up with anything as long as I know that they're both safe. Won't changing things mean that people will start to notice?"
"Not necessarily," Professor McGonagall said crisply. "I suggest you leave the matter with me for a few days, and let me speak to the Headmaster about it." She nodded at him, and collected a packet of chocolate shortbread biscuits from the shelf, and tucked them away under her arm. "In the meantime," she added, "I think you should take your ice-cream and get back to where you should be. Any particular flavour?"
"B-Banana," Harry stammered, gawping slightly at his teacher. "Aren't you going to give me detention or anything?"
"Interesting things, these invisibility cloaks," Professor McGonagall commented, with a twinkle in her eye. "I couldn't have possibly seen you down her tonight, Potter." She thrust a tub of ice-cream into his hands and smiled. "Go on. Quickly. Before I change my mind."
"Thanks," Harry grinned at her, and swiftly disappeared from sight under his cloak.
Creeping back through the moonlit kitchen and retracing his steps upwards towards Gryffindor Tower, Harry reflected over the conversation. It sounded like there might be more flexibility in this than they had thought, and perhaps they'd even manage to get a few hours alone every now and then. Ginny certainly needed some down time from all the pressures of the illusion and the pretence that went with it. He almost felt like bursting into song as he rounded the final corner with a lighter heart.
The chill of the ice-cream was numbing his fingers and aching painfully through his pyjamas, but he didn't care. Catching a glimpse of the Fat Lady in the distance, Harry was about to break into a run, eager to tell Ginny the news, when a white shimmering shape caught his eye and he ducked instinctively. Peeves. The little poltergeist bobbed up and down regarding the seemingly empty corridor mischievously.
"I know you're there," he said in a nasty sing-song voice. "I can't see you, but you are."
He swooped lower, missing Harry by a hair's breadth.
"Peeves!" Professor McGonagall's stern voice rang through the corridor, and with a disgruntled cackle, the ghost vanished through the floor.
Harry scrambled to the portrait hole, reappearing briefly to give the password to the sleepy picture, breathing again only when he heard the portrait click shut behind him.
"Gin," he called, removing the cloak completely with relief, and throwing it on a nearby chair. "I've got it." He wandered over to the spot where he had left her. "Oh, Ginny," he said softly, catching sight of the slumbering figure sprawled in the armchair by the fire. The coppery tones in her hair danced in the amber light; her left arm carelessly outstretched.
Harry chuckled softly to himself as he crouched down beside her, smoothing her warm hair back from her face and gently covering her cheeks with a host of tiny fluttering kisses. She smiled and muttered in her sleep. His grin widened, and he waved the open tub of ice-cream under her nose. In a flash she was awake, and the tub of ice-cream was miraculously half-empty. She regarded him with an expression of sheer bliss.
"Thanks Harry," she smiled. "You didn't have any trouble, did you?"
"Oh, no trouble at all," he chuckled.
*****
"It's definitely dead," came a cheerful voice from behind him.
Harry spun round to see Ron grinning in the doorway, and then turned his attention back to the plant on his bedside table. The plant certainly didn't look particularly healthy, the greenery of the foliage had shrivelled to a papery-brown crisp, and the cherry-red flower drooped limply, petals falling onto the wooden surface.
"It can't be dead," Harry said desperately, leafing through the guide book. "Maybe it moults or something."
"It's not a cat," Ron laughed. "Crookshanks moults. Plants that look like that are dead. Anyway, I thought you'd have been glad to see the back of the vicious thing. I certainly will be."
"Just because you don't like the spiders," Harry pointed out, pushing his glasses back up his nose and peering more closely at the plant. "It's all very well for you to be laughing. The plant likes you. Seriously though, Ginny's going to go mad when she sees what I've done to it."
"Well, you've got to admit, this doesn't bode well for the future of my nephew or niece," Ron chuckled, sitting on the bed beside Harry and examining the wilting foliage carefully.
"It's hardly the same thing," Harry exclaimed in exasperation. "I think I can take a gamble on this and say that whatever our baby is going to be like, I don't think he'll be trying to rip my fingers off at every opportunity."
"Y'know," Ron said thoughtfully. "I don't think it is dead. I could have sworn I saw it move just then."
"You did?" Harry yelled eagerly.
"Yeah," Ron replied in a slightly gloomy tone. With an expression of sheer disgust, he reached out and tickled the plant gently. It wriggled pleasurably under his fingertips and let out a noise that sounded like a combination of a parched purr and a squeaking garden gate.
"Favouritism, that's what it is," Harry grumbled, summoning the water jug from the table by the window. The plant drank greedily, then paused, the ragged red blossom swaying slightly in quest for food. Harry looked expectantly at Ron.
"No!" Ron exclaimed. "No way, Harry!"
"Please?" Harry begged.
"But it's… spiders!" Ron spat the word out with a shudder. "It's bad enough that you're keeping some up here in that jar, but actually wanting me to…"
"It likes my fingers better than spiders," Harry pointed out.
"Look, just tell yourself you're doing it for Ginny," Ron suggested, grinning sideways at him. "If she sees the plant in this state, she'll probably go into labour or something."
"She wouldn't, would she?" Harry said anxiously. Ron had to be wrong: there were still three months of this pregnancy left to go. All the same, he reached for the jar of scurrying spiders beneath his bed. Ron blanched, and backed away across the bed. "Oh well," Harry grimaced. "Here goes nothing." A spider wriggled and squirmed between his fingers as Harry cautiously offered it to his plant. The blossom twitched suspiciously, and some petals lifted to reveal bared teeth. A tiny growl emanated from deep within the red flower and Harry jumped rapidly backwards as it snapped savagely at his fingers.
"See!" he yelled, pointing accusingly at the plant. "It's out to get me."
"Think about Ginny," Ron said bracingly.
"Yeah," Harry grumbled, obediently offering the spider once more. The scarlet bloom turned and swayed, snake-like, lingering venomously for a second before it pounced, snatching the spider and devouring it, until even the spindly wriggling legs had disappeared from view.
Harry regarded his Christmas present through narrowed eyes, noting the crispened leaves with curling edges like brown paper. He sighed, and brushed the flecks of blood from his grazed fingertips.
"Now all I've got to do is try and get it looking a bit healthier," he said, resigned to his doom. "I just hope Ginny doesn't make it up here when it's light anytime soon."
"When it's light?" Ron queried, a frown furrowing his brow. His eyes widened slowly. "You… you mean she's…at night?"
"She has sometimes," Harry admitted, flushing furiously. "Usually when she's been after ice-cream or something though."
"Ah!" Ron said, understanding fully. There was a short pause before he continued. "I know you're married and everything, but this is still a bit weird to get used to. I mean…"
"I wish I could get used to it," Harry interrupted despondently. "You know, the baby must be pretty big by now, and I can't even see it. Some days it's like it's not happening at all."
"I bet Ginny doesn't think that," Ron grinned. "Look at it this way: you don't have to put up with things like this for much longer. Two more months here and we'll have done our N.E.W.T.s, and be back at home. I reckon you and Mum will drive Ginny mad with fussing over her for the whole of July."
"Sounds good to me," Harry laughed.
"She needs it," Ron remarked, anxiety spreading across his features. "She's not been looking too well lately."
"She's worried," Harry said, shifting uneasily on the bed. "We're all bothered with what's going on out there, I suppose. It's got to be harder for her dealing with the constant fear of being found out."
Ron nodded. There was silence for a while. Harry struggled against nightmarish visions that permeated his mind. Everything had worked according to plan so far; they just needed to keep going.
"We'll be out of here soon," Ron said reassuringly. "All of us back at The Burrow." He laughed suddenly, and Harry glanced quickly up at him, intrigued. "That is, unless Hermione disappears under an avalanche of job applications."
"She's not doing that already, is she?" Harry asked incredulously.
"Oh yes," Ron nodded. "Looking into every conceivable avenue of career opportunities even before she decides what she wants to do. I don't know how she finds the time to be honest."
"She's Hermione," Harry grinned, getting to his feet, and hoisting his school bag onto his shoulder. "What else would she be doing? Do you want any breakfast, or not? Come on, we're going to be late."
*****
Ron and Harry made their way through the milling crowds to Defence Against the Dark Arts. The ancient oak door to their classroom was ajar, yet there was no sign of Dumbledore at all. They loitered in the corridor for a while, then finally, with curious glances at one another, the class hesitantly made their way inside and took their seats. Harry had just found his books and thudded them down on the desk before him, when Hermione burst through the door, looking dishevelled and out of breath.
"Where have you two been?" she gasped, slipping into her seat next to Harry and rubbing a stitch in her side. "You weren't at breakfast."
"Had a bit of a plant crisis," Ron chuckled. "Why? Did you miss us or something?"
"No," Hermione said, looking from one to the other, her expression becoming more serious. "I take it you've not seen The Daily Prophet this morning?"
"No, we haven't," Harry said, a sudden quiver of nerves fluttering through his stomach. "What's happened?"
"This," Hermione said slowly, pulling the newspaper out of her bag. She shot a worried glance at Ron, as she shook the pages out.
They both leant forward and scanned the newspaper quickly for information. The headline told them the worst of it: Breakaway Ministry Battles Back. The information was absorbed quickly by desperate eyes. The Ministry of Magic had collapsed following a walkout of many staff, no longer believing that the action taken against the recent atrocities was sufficient. Wizards, nationwide, were banding together in a stand against Voldemort and the Death Eaters, prepared to fight to the bitter end to protect those they loved. The photograph on the page drew Harry's eyes to it. The grim determination on the faces of the figures in the foreground struck a chord in his own heart: he should be there too, fighting with them. He knew it.
"Dad," Ron's voice broke. He pointed towards the rear of the group of wizards, where Harry too could see the weary features of Arthur Weasley intent in conversation with the man beside him.
"Was there any post this morning?" Harry demanded instantly of Hermione.
"Nothing," she shook her head.
"He should have told us himself," Ron muttered. "It's not as if we're too young to hear about this any more."
"Ginny," Harry exclaimed, swinging round in his chair and grabbing Hermione's arm hard. "What about Ginny?"
"I didn't tell her," Hermione cried, shaking her head. "I didn't know what to do. Why do you think I was so desperate to find you?"
"We've got to talk to her," Ron said decisively. "What lesson's she got now, Harry?"
"Herbology," Harry said promptly, getting to his feet, and stuffing his books back in his bag.
"You can't just haul her out of a lesson!" Hermione objected strenuously.
"She's got to know," Ron said adamantly. "You know how close she is to Dad. If anything happened…"
"It'll wait until the end of the lesson," Hermione hissed, pulling Harry firmly back into his seat. "Talk to Dumbledore about it, and have her taken out of class for an official reason." Her eyes met Harry's, and he understood.
"OK," he agreed reluctantly, knowing that she was speaking sense.
"It's just another fifty minutes," she said. "Nothing's going to happen in that time, and you've got to calm down first. You'll not help her if she sees you both like this."
"What am I meant to be like?" Ron snapped. "My dad's part of this counter-attack against You Know Who, and heaven only knows whether or not any of my brothers are involved. My whole family could be in danger and you expect me to sit here, being calm in a lesson?"
"Ron!" she protested, tears beginning to well in her eyes. "That's not what I meant. I'm worried too."
The room fell silent, and Harry looked up to see the figure of Albus Dumbledore standing in the doorway. He walked slowly to the platform at the front of the classroom and regarded the class through piercing blue eyes.
"Times are changing," he said gravely. "We must work quickly before it is too late."
Harry glanced across at Ron, and saw an expression very like the one his sister sometimes wore; chin set in determination against the odds. Wondering what was going through his friend's mind, Harry forced his attention back to Dumbledore who was outlining the lesson.
"You must practise defending and blocking spells," he said, looking steadily into each and every face. "Speed is of the essence if you are to gain the advantage over your opponent." Hermione raised her hand to speak. "I know, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said gently, "that there are no ways of blocking the Unforgiveable Curses, but do not forget that there are other spells which can be used in a Dark Arts attack." Ron's fist unclenched slowly on the desk, and he reached for his wand. "Work in groups and use any mild charm or hex that appeals to you," Dumbledore smiled slightly. "Your aim is to defend yourself from others in your group, whilst hitting them with as many spells as possible. I suspect most of you will have a bad case of twitchy ears by the end of the lesson."
There was a ripple of laughter, but Dumbledore held out his hand for silence.
"It is a pleasure to be trying this now," he said clearly. "However, the time will come… and yes, it will come, when this may save your life."
Harry pushed the desks aside, to give them more space, and looked at Ron and Hermione.
"Looks like Dumbledore thinks things are going to start happening now," he said, pacing up and down feeling like a caged tiger. "It can't be long now. It can't be."
"It's got to work," Ron said, his breathing slightly erratic. "Dad wouldn't be risking everything if he didn't believe in it."
"How can he not believe in it?" Hermione said gently. "We all know what those Death Eaters are capable of."
"Sorry," Ron mumbled, reaching for her hand. "Me and my big mouth. I didn't mean to remind you of all that again."
"It's fine," Hermione replied, smiling slightly at him.
"Things aren't fine," Harry said grimly. "And what am I doing still here at school? I should be out there fighting with them. Don't look at me like that," he added angrily. "You know I should be."
"Your time will come," a genial voice came from behind them. "Be patient, Harry. In the meantime, Ginny needs you here."
"I'm not doing anything useful here," Harry objected, frowning heavily at Dumbledore. "I hate hearing about what's going on and just be expected to sit here and wait. I can't do it any more."
"You will have to, Harry," Dumbledore said, with absolute conviction. "Believe me, difficult as it may seem, this is the way to proceed: for you and for those you love." The words were unspoken, but the implication was clear. Harry hung his head, and stared at his shoes.
"Professor," Hermione stepped into the silence that followed. "Ginny still doesn't know about what Mr Weasley is doing in the fight against You Know Who."
"And next lesson is…?" Dumbledore prompted.
"Charms," Ron said.
"Ginny's got Transfiguration," Harry added.
"Very well," Dumbledore remarked, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "I can see no reason why one of you cannot be excused from Professor Flitwick's class on this particular occasion, and Professor McGonagall will have no objections to releasing Ginny. Naturally, whoever misses the lesson will catch up on their work without any prompting," his blue eyes twinkled and he moved on to the group beside them, where Neville was writhing across the floor in fits of hysterical laughter.
"So, who?" Ron asked quietly.
"You can, if you think that's best," Harry began.
"Harry," Hermione suggested at the same time. "Look Ron, I know it's something to do with your family, but if she gets too upset, you can imagine the sort of effects it could have."
"True," Ron said, looking rather shaken. "You don't think…?"
"How do you expect me to know?" Hermione asked.
"You're a girl," Ron said, "and knowing you, you'll have read most books about it."
"I have," Hermione admitted softly, so they couldn't be overheard. "They just tell you to avoid stressful situations."
"Not much chance of that for Ginny," Harry remarked bitterly. He ran his hands through his hair and shook his head. "I'll do it, then?"
"Yeah," Ron agreed, his face crumpling in concern. "I'll write to Mum and Dad at lunchtime to see if I can find out more about what's going on."
"So about this hexing?" Hermione said more loudly, noticing that the other groups were involved in practical work.
"Right."
Harry backed away from them and gripped his wand more tightly. He looked from Ron to Hermione, and with a nod of agreement, spells began to fly. Harry felt his brain become alert, muscles tensed like a coiled spring as he waited, balanced on the balls of his feet to block the charms and cast anew when his opponent was least aware. Spell after spell; his confidence grew.
Finally Dumbledore called the session to a close, and with many aching giggles and twitches of limbs, the Gryffindor seventh years limped out of the classroom into the hallway to discuss their experiences.
"That was something else," Ron said, his nose still twitching like a rabbit. "I think I need to practise those blocking spells a bit."
"You should be good at those," Hermione teased. "I mean, you're a Keeper at Quidditch. If you let as many Quaffles through as you do spells, I think Harry would have every right to throw you off the team."
"Thanks!" Ron protested, prodding her in the ribs. "And you did everything perfectly, didn't you? I mean, you didn't turn orange at all."
"I wasn't watching what Harry was up to," Hermione protested.
"Yeah, yeah," Ron laughed. "Any excuse."
The landing outside Defence Against the Dark Arts emptied slowly, and in the silence that followed, they became aware of a sniffling noise. Ron raised his eyebrows, and both Harry and Hermione moved forwards, listening to the sound. A distinct sob caught in the back of a throat, and Harry felt his stomach wring tightly. He would recognise that noise anywhere.
"Gin?" he spoke the word hesitantly, thinking that he must be mistaken. What on earth would she be doing here? This was nowhere near either Herbology or Transfiguration. He leaned sideways, listening to the muffled sobs and following their direction. The noises seemed to be emanating from a small alcove where a statue of a dragon bared its stone teeth. Peering more closely, Harry could make out black robes, a figure huddled in the darkness of the corner.
With a bewildered glance at Ron and Hermione, he rounded the end of the alcove and ducked down behind the dragon. Ginny was sitting on the floor, her head buried in her knees, completely submerged under her flames of hair. She shook with muffled cries.
"Ginny," he said gently, caressing the back of her head. "What are you doing here?"
"Harry!" she looked up, and more tears began to flow, an uncontrollable torrent.
"It's all right," he said reassuringly, pulling her into his arms. "You'll see. Your Dad will be fine."
"Dad?" she shook her head, lacking comprehension, choking as she tried to stifle the sobs.
"Nothing," Harry said hastily, cursing himself for his haste. "Ginny, what's happened?"
"Oh, Harry!" she sobbed, clinging to the front of his robes as if her life depended on it.
"It's OK," he said, feeling totally inadequate. He rubbed his hand across her back. "Come on, nothing can be as bad as all that."
"It can," she gulped. "Harry… He knows." The tears burst forth again, and she shook uncontrollably.
"I'll get Madam Pomfrey," Hermione said, sounding worried. Harry glanced up to see her standing at the opposite end of the alcove, with Ron beside her. He nodded.
"Who?" Harry prompted, fear beginning to grip his insides with vice-like fingers. "Who knows? What do they know? Ginny, please!"
"C-Colin," she choked. "We were in Herbology and he wanted the secateurs, so…" Cries were forced back and her voice quivered badly. "So, he leaned across to get them and…" She didn't need to continue; Harry could picture the scene all too well. Colin had reached his hand out and had encountered what Ginny had been struggling so hard to conceal.
"He felt the baby?" Harry's voice was little more than a whisper in her ear. She nodded, little whimpers escaping involuntarily as tremors shook her. Harry tightened his arms around his family, eyes lifting to Ron's horrified face. Colin knew. The question was, what was he going to do about it?