Back again, peoples, I am. Hectic times we live in. So, well, my updates are going to become few and far between for a while, I guess. Hopefully you'll still bother checking to read the end, which, I believe, will be very enjoyable. While lacking much action, this chapter IS in fact necessary to the plot of this story; I must write it or everyone will be confused while the action is taking place.
I don't own Harry Potter. Sure wish I had written the idea to create HIM on a napkin, instead of doodling pictures of Digimon characters... *sigh* my life's a waste of time. Anyways. JKR created Harry Potter, and the song If You Could Read My Mind is performed by Gordon Lightfoot. I don't know who created Big Bird from Sesame Street... most likely CTW, but whoever it was, it wasn't me!
Thank you JKR for finally completing the fifth book! I will now have about nine hours of new Harry Potter literary enjoyment!!
This chapter is for Derek, who believes in me. Thanks for the literary encouragement.
A Mistake Mended
Chapter Three: If You Could Read My Mind
A week passed. A shock to the magical community, Hermione Granger, CEW of MagiWeb, the largest magical technology corporation in the world, resigned from her prestigious (not to mention extremely well paying) position in exchange for a teaching position at Hogwarts. As there was only a month left of term, she was instructed to wait until mid-August to report to the school for living arrangements and teacher/staff meetings.
Right now, however, the was sitting on the balcony of her flat on the outskirts of York, watching the sun rise over the distant hills, burning away the spring mists that hovered lazily above the wildflower sprinkled field. A slight breeze whirled an apple blossom off the tree in the backyard and floated it across the veranda, the pale pink flower coming to a rest next to her hand on the table. The sunlight glinted on the circlet of gold she clasped between the thumb and forefinger of her left hand, tossing rainbows onto the white plastic surface of the patio table.
What do I do? she berated herself silently once more, gorgeous honey brown eyes already swollen and puffy from the almost continuous tears shed in the past seven days. I need to speak with him at once, but he won't even let me near him!
She remembered with much sorrow the past Wednesday evening, when she had finally mustered enough courage to Apparate to the Burrow, apologize, and to implore Ron with all her heart and soul to give her a second chance. As soon as she reached the front door, though, it had been flung open by Chandler, Angelina chasing after him with a wet dishrag.
"Chandler! Stop this instant! You're covered in Daddy's new sweet! Stop it, before you get the entire house sticky! Chandler!" she scolded him as he leaped into Hermione's arms. Angelina walked over and began scrubbing the toddler as she talked to Hermione.
"Ron's upstairs, hon. I don't think he's in much of a mood for talking, though. Poor dear, he's only come out of his room twice since last weekend after the wedding. You really shocked him, hon, and finding that ring of his just threw him for a loop" . Angelina sighed, and pulled Chandler off of Hermione, balancing him carefully on one hip. "Go and get it over with," she commented, sensing the hesitation and fear leaking from Hermione's heart and coursing through her veins.
"Will he see me?" Hermione questioned as she walked slowly through the living room on the way to the stairs. "I know if I was in his place, I would have probably moved out of the country and changed my name - or something equally extreme."
Angelina placed her son on the tile floor in front of the stairs. "Go run upstairs and play with Daddy, will you sweetie? Mummy needs to talk to Mya."
The youngster scrambled up into the darkness of the curving stairwell, giggling madly as he shouted, "Daddy! Daddy! Mummy says I get to play with you some more! Make me Big Bird again!"
Hermione raised an eyebrow. Big Bird? she mouthed. Angelina laughed and shook her head. "The Ameri-Muggle children's show, Sesame Street? There's a giant yellow bird on it named Big Bird that Chandler absolutely adores. Fred and George were toying around with their Canary Creams, improving them, and ended up adding Engorgement Charms to them, thus creating Big Bird Bites." Angelina laughed once more, but sobered very quickly as she observed Hermione eyeing the stairs warily, a pale complexion becoming slightly green when faced with the prospect of climbing them to face Ron.
"Do you think he knows I still love him?" she whispered. "I do, you know. I don't know what came over me. I guess I was just tired and fed up with him skirting the issue... I suppose - I remember telling him once that I wasn't ready to take such a big step, and that he'd need to wait until I was. Maybe he figured it would take me this long, but I'm not sure it did. Take me this long, I mean." A single tear rolled down her cheek and landed on her hand, which had extracted the ring in question from her pocket.
Angelina reached over and gave the tense woman a reassuring hug. "Everything will be fine. Just go up there and tell Ron how you feel. Tell him that you're sorry, and you're still in love with him. You've made a mistake, and now you're trying to mend it."
"But what if he won't listen?"
"Damn right I won't listen." A voice echoed down the dark and empty stairwell. "Why should I listen to you?"
"Ron!" she gasped. "Please, let me explain!" Hermione whipped up to face him, and brought her hands upwards to her mouth, where they remained, fisted and clasped together in a position of nervous anxiety. The ring, still clutched in her right hand, sparkled in the late afternoon sunlight beaming a deep orange through the window, striating shadows across Hermione's ever radiant form. Ron flinched back at the sight of it.
"Oh, I understand perfectly, Hermione. You've made yourself bloody crystal clear. You don't want to be with me anymore. What, back to rub it in?? He scowled and crossed his arms, shrouded in shadow as he leaned against one wall.
"No, Ron, It's not like that at all! If you'll just listen -?Hermione pleaded, her left hand moving to the banister as she started to make the journey up the stairs to him.
"I don't have to listen to shit," Ron replied, an then with an almost inaudible *pop*, he disappeared.
Hermione gasped, then rushed over to the fireplace. She nearly ran into the back wall of the chimney as she threw in the tiniest pinch of the glittering powder needed to power the transportation unit. Rushing through the Floo Network, Hermione clasped the ring in her palm tightly, desperately wishing not to lose the only piece of Ron she had left.
Hermione held the ring up closer to her face as she finished remembering the last time she had seen Ron. Peering at her name on the inside of the golden band, Hermione allowed a small, sad smile to creep across her face. I'm going to cherish this forever, she thought, realizing the amount of love and caring and good fortune that had brought about the purchase of the ring. Even though she had received it under the most unusual of circumstances, Hermione would always keep it on her person, cherish it as if she had actually been proposed to. Hermione reached down to pick up her small china teacup from the table. She sipped it thoughtfully.
I need a way to wear it, because I won't always have a pocket to keep it in, Hermione thought, and so maybe Ron will finally see how much I still care - even though I need to recognize the fact he never actually asked me, so I can't wear it as an actual engagement ring. Maybe...She got up from the table and walked inside, leaving the white gauze curtains hanging on the doors free to flap inwards to the living room, being blown by the spring breezes. Her tea, still steaming in its saucer, was left forgotten on the table, vapors that had soothed many a troubled mind wafting away into the cool April morning.
Walking swiftly into her bedroom which had been in an extremely messy state of disarray for almost a week, she kicked random piles of dirty clothes to the side, creating a narrow pathway to the vanity. It was a small, pastel green chest with a matching mirror balanced on top, and was situated on the opposite wall from the door, directly to the right of the bay window.
Reaching into the small ebony jewelry box on the back of the table, she lifted the lid inlaid with mother-of-pearl lotus blossoms. Hermione dug through the tangled piles of childhood trinkets - cheap plastic and yarn necklaces and bracelets won at fairs and acquired over the years of her Muggle youth. Lifting up a small snake chain from the bottom compartment, Hermione opened the delicate clasp and slid the ring onto it. Then she fastened the smooth golden chain around her neck, relaxing in the comfortable pull the weight of the ring created on her neck. A small smile crept upon her face as she straightened the ring on top of her gray sweatshirt. Satisfied, Hermione walked back to the balcony to finish her tea.
Resuming her position at the table, Hermione fingered the ring on its chain around her neck thoughtfully while sipping her tea. I wonder what Ron's doing right now. Will he ever forgive me, or at least let me apologize?She sighed.
If you could read my mind, love,
What a tale my thoughts would tell
Just like an old-time movie
About a ghost from the wishing well
If only he knew, Hermione moaned inwardly, a caul of darkness surrounding her as the sun burned brighter in the sky, depression creating a great contrast in the moods of the setting. Oh, Ron, how can I apologize if you won't even look at me?
In a castle dark, or a fortress strong,
With chains upon my feet; you know that ghost is me
And I will never be set free,
As long as I'm a ghost you can't see
Standing up from the wooden chair, Hermione walked to the railing and folded her arms on the top, leaning over slightly as she watched the last traces of mist swirl away, revealing the dewy grass two stories below. The wind blew pale pink petals from the tree to her left, sweeping them in whirling patterns into the distant fields, a slight fragrance tickling Hermione's nostrils as she disentangled the ring from her index finger. If only I could walk in his shows for five minutes, just to know if he still cares.
If I could read your mind, love,
What a tale your thoughts would tell,
Just like a paperback novel,
The kind that bookstores sell,
When you reach the part where the heartaches' gone,
The hero would be me,
Heroes often fail
And you won't read that book again,
Because the ending's just too hard to take
The sun had completely arisen, and bright yellow sunbeams were streaming onto her porch, illuminating the area with an almost ethereal glow. Walking over to pick up her now empty teacup to taking it into the kitchen, she paused momentarily to gaze at the apple blossom sitting on the table, now accompanied by another blossom, newly brought by the wind. A small flicker of hope sparked alive within her heart, amidst all despair, and she continued on her retreat to the kitchen.
I'd walk away like a movie star
Who gets burned in a three way script
Enter number two
A movie queen to play the scene of
Bringing all the good things out in me
But for now love, let's be real,
I never thought I could feel this way,
But I've got to say that I just don't get it
I don't know where we went wrong,
But the feeling's gone,
And I just can't get it back
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Rain splashed down in torrents, battering the figure as it rushed towards the dark stone castle, battlements thrusting upwards into the storm-torn sky, piercing the dark grey clouds. Partially lit by the occasional bolt of lightning, illuminating the menacing facade of the fortress, the figure dashed for cover from the storm. It reached the large, thick wooden door and yanked as hard as it could on the iron rings, straining with all its might to gain access into the safehouse.
"Please!" they shouted, trying to make themselves audible over the din of the storm, which lashed out at the figure's thin grey cloak, whipping it out behind the person and to one side, revealing a young woman dressed in Muggle street clothes and carrying a bundle, wrapped in many layers of tattered cloth. "Please, for the love of God, let me in!"
Suddenly, almost as if it was of its own volition, the wooden door swung open wide, revealing a dark hallway with a small, flickering yellow-orange light at the end. As she had been hurling herself at the door at the time, the young woman flew through the doorway with great alacrity, skidding down the hall on her side until her momentum finally subsided. Stiffly standing, and still clutching the bundle protectively to her chest, the girl limped slightly as she made her way towards the light. Her pale face, full of fear and curiosity, whipped from side to side as she tried to take in her gloomy and vitriolic surroundings.
At the end of the hallway, she was met by a torch hovering in mid-air. It moved from side to side and wavered slightly. The girl's violet eyes widened and, clutching her bundle to her breast, she turned to flee. "Wait!" a deep voice called as a hand appeared out of nowhere to grab her wrist. She writhed, kicking at the air in hopes of hitting her assailant. A head was revealed as the mysterious figure pulled the rest of his body out of the Invisibility Cloud.
The girl stiffened and shrank back against the wall as a young man came out of nowhere, holding the once-floating torch in his right hand and her left wrist in his left. Sandy brown hair glinted gold in the flickering light or the torch, and his deep blue eyes seemed to penetrate her soul, reading her secrets. The girl felt her knees give out in fear as he gave her a once-over and motioned to the wall he had just been standing in front of. "Come with me, Miss McLellan, the Mistress has been expecting you."
"She-she has?" the girl squeaked. "Who is - your M-mistress?" the teen inquired, a spark of unquenchable curiosity evident through the outward hesitation she showed at trusting this stranger. "And how do you know my name?' she asked, after a second look at the man. At an average height and only a slightly muscular build, he looked harmless, except for the virulent stare which pierced through his pupils, black widening in the dimming light until the deep blue irises were almost completely swallowed into the darkness.
"We have our ways of discerning even the tiniest tidbits of information about our contacts. Come along, Brianne, the Mistress doesn't like to be kept waiting." He tugged at her wrist and she jerked forward, unprepared for the sudden action which sent them flying through a solid wall, which, apparently, wasn't as solid as it seemed. She screamed.
A hand was clapped over her mouth and her arms pinned to her sides. "Don't scream," the man hissed venemously into her ear. "Don't make any loud noises or sudden movements at all." His hushed tones sounded afraid as her released her, eyes darting nervously from side to side. "There are things in this castle that we don't want awoken."
Scared by his fear and by the warning, Brianne had nothing else to do but meekly follow him up the stone spiral staircase into the darkness beyond. At the top they reached small platform with a large wooden door at the end. He pulled out a flat, silver disk with bronze Celtic runes raised in relief on one side, and fitter it into the matching slot on the great door where a handle normally would be. A flash of hot white suddenly illuminated the area and Brianne shielded her face by burying it into her bundle, which she still hugged close to her chest. There was a clicking noise, and the door opened ominously.
She was hurried into the room by the young man, and seated across from the fire in an ornate antique dining chair. Facing her chair, as the fireplace was directly to her left, was a woman who had come to sit in front of Brianne in a deep maroon armchair. She was wearing a bright red cocktail dress which left very little to the imagination under a black cloak, pinned at the top with a single rose brooch. In her early thirties, the woman looked remarkably young for her age as she nimbly tucked her black stiletto heels underneath her, finding a more comfortable position in the armchair. Her neatly styled black hair curled in layers around her face, just reaching her shoulders. Her skin, tan all over her body, lacked its rich coloring in her face, where black eyes glittered, becoming evilly prominent over beautifully sculpted features.
"That will do, David," she said in a deep, throaty voice. "Could you go and magic up the tea service? Miss McLellan looks parched." The man who had brought Brianne up into this tower bowed and walked swiftly through the far wall, grabbing n old copper key off of a hook as he passed. Brianne shivered and pulled her thin cloak around her tightly; in all the earlier confusion, she had not realized how cold she was. Glancing up at the woman, she cautioned a question. "Who are you?"
The woman clicked her tongue at Brianne. "Ah, ah, ah," she scolded, shaking her head so the dark waves of hair fell in a sheath, shielding half of her porcelain face. "Me first. When I've had my say, then you can ask your questions."
"However, I'll humor you, just this once. I'm Bianca Rose to my close acquaintances and allies, or "Mistress" to the rest of the world. I've decided to enlist in your services as an Indigo Diviner." Brianne began to interrupt with protests of confusion, but the 'Mistress" held up a hand, dark slender fingers ending in frighteningly sharp scarlet tips. "I know you don't know what an Indigo Diviner is. It's why I've brought you here - to train you for the fight. In exchange for your services, I will give you shelter and two other agreements of your choice."
"You mean, I won't have to take Michael back to that - that horrible homeless shelter?" The outer layer of her bundle, which had begun to squirm, fell off revealing a baby boy about one year old. His pale face was half hidden by a tuft of jet-black hair which fell across his forehead in a haphazard manner. Brianne held the baby gently against her chest and rocked slowly back and forth. "If I agree to help you, can one of my conditions be that no matter what happens to me, my son would always be provided for?" Bianca nodded slowly, a cynical smile forming on her full red lips. Everything was going according to plan.
Brianne shook Michael gently as she thought. "What kind of services? I'm not a very good cook, but I clean just about as well as anyone."
"No, child, nothing like that. Your Seer powers, of course. As an Indigo, you should be able to see great distances into both the future and the past, mostly through dreams. Translating from world to world is also a possibility, as is soul-searching, or reading people's aura's, as well as their minds." Brianne's jaw dropped, a look of astonishment hanging on her face. "Yes, you can do all of these, along with large, powerful quantities of wandless magic. You've been using your talents for years, subconsciously, on instinct." The fire in the hearth flared, sending sparks crackling upwards that threw sharp relief of shadows, skewing the perspective of any to view the two figures. One could almost see a shadow encompassing the older woman, crossing the lines between imagination and reality.
Brianne gaped at the lady sitting in front of her. Is she mad? I've never been able to do magic. Not even those card tricks kind did for talent shows when I was a little girl. And read people's minds? She has got to be high or something. She shook her head rapidly to clear it. "You're kidding me, right?"
"You'll find soon enough that I never kid. Think back to a time long ago. Your parents were brutally murdered when you were six, right? And ever since then, you've had horrible things happening to you wherever you wander to.. Fate certainly has dealt you a cruel hand, hasn't it? Try to remember back to a time when you felt the future..."
A slight misty haze formed in Brianne's mind, a bluish-purple cloud swirling around her memories. Faintly, she felt strong, callused hands carrying her to the chaise lounge near the window before Brianne fell entirely unconscious.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Ginny ate the remaining bite of her cucumber and tomato sandwich and leaned back against Harry. The April afternoon was unseasonably warm, and she and Harry had found the shadiest oak tree by the creek on the Weasley's property. The remains of their picnic had been thrown into the woods for the rabbits and gnomes to ear, and now the couple curled up in the warm, dappled sunlight, content in each other's company as they recalled memories of darker times past, and strange occurrences in the present, hinting towards another fight for a brighter future.
"Gin?" Harry asked as he absent-mindedly ran his fingers through her soft auburn curls, "Are you ever going to do something about your Seer abilities? I mean, with the new threats the Ministry's been getting that are pretty vague, and with this Bianca woman, well, she's smarter than Voldemort was on his rise to power. She's not publicly blazoning her arrival with Dark Marks everytime she does something -and there haven't been any sudden disappearances as of yet. Actually, she's got mine and Ron's Departments completely baffled. Why don't you come work in the Divination Department?"
"Oh, Harry, you know I can't do that. The kids at the school need me - for most of them, I'm the only adult they can trust. I'm really all they've got. Besides, visions come of their own accordance, and it won't matter whether I'm sitting in Trelawney's classroom, an office in the Divination Department, or my own classroom down at the shelter - I'll still have the same amount of psychic power in any situation. When the Spectrum gets restarted, then I'll find myself a replacement. I'm sure Evonne would take over for me if I get called away... like last time."
Harry pulled her closer. "I can't believe I almost lost you back then. That was the scariest week of my life, not knowing where you were, not being able to find you if you were hurt, not even being able to talk to you. You were sliding worlds with Aberforth Dumbledore..." He buried his face into her neck, squeezing her tightly, as if he could prevent her from sliding worlds once again.
She smiled as she remembered learning worldgating from Dumbledore's brother. Abie, as she had dubbed him, was not the fool the media had made him out to be - no one had let him explain that the goat he had been performing charms on was his mother-in-law, trapped within an illegal Animangus state. He was the most powerful Seer in the world, however, which required certain eccentricities, if not a touch of reclusiveness; he didn't need all of the silly, common witches and wizards asking his help to find their house keys, or wondering about their love lives. Which is why he slid so frequently - to get away from prying people- making him the perfect tutor for Ginny to learn worldgating, or the making of a temporary path from one world to another, from.
"Harry, that was the best week of my life - with the exception of the last day. I learned how to worldgate!! Unlocked my powers! For once, I wasn't just the littlest Weasley, I was somebody. I could do something about the war, instead of just sitting around here in hear and hiding."
"And do something you did. I still feel a mixture of awe, pride, and shock everytime I think about you and Aberforth creating the dimension I cursed Voldemort into." His eyes clouded over for a fleeting moment, and Ginny realized he was thinking about Sirius.
"Harry," Ginny twisted around in his arms and cupped his cheek in her palm. "We knew someone would have to make a sacrifice. Voldemort wasn't just going to walk into the portal. And it needed to be sealed from the inside, which Voldemort wouldn't do, either. I--" She stopped herself as his expression turned from one of grief and guilt to one of confusion.
"You what?"
Ginny took a deep breath. "I've never told you this, for many reasons. One, you'd have reacted badly if I had told you before; and, well, you were grieving for Sirius for a long, long time! Over a year! And you kept crying yourself to sleep in the common room, blaming yourself... I didn't want to put any more pain on you."
Harry was conflicted. All these things were true, but he didn't understand where this was going. "What didn't you tell me?"
Ginny sighed and kissed his cheek lightly. "Don't react when I say this. I don't need you going off and hexing the gnomes into tomorrow, or accidentally magically blowing up Ottery St.Catchpole like Fred did when he found out Angelina was pregnant."
Harry gave her a funny look. "Okay, I won't blow anything up, or put curses on the gnomes. What is it?"
"I was supposed to go through with Voldemort and lose the gate, but Sirius pulled me aside at the last minute and insisted he take my place - for your well-being."
Harry reacted anyways, sitting straight up, his body tense and muscles rigid, throwing Ginny off of him in the process. "He did what? He could have lived and he chose to - wait, you're saying you were going to be the person stuck in Dimension 5 With Voldemort? Why didn't you tell me? I could have... I don't know..."
"Could have stopped me?" Ginny supplied. "Could have taken my place, have you go instead of me? That's why I was forbidden to speak of any of my plans to either you, Ron, or Hermione. Abie told me that in order for the gate to close entirely, the sealer on the other side had to be entirely willing to live there for the rest of their mortal life, and if you had known, I would have hesitated, and the whole thing would have been botched beyond belief.
"Sirius went in complete faith that he would be creating a better world for you and everyone else to live in, so he had no remorse." She crawled over on her knees to where he was still sitting stark upwards in shock, and, holding his face, wiped a tear away with her thumb. "It's all for the best, Harry. Don't blame yourself for such a noble sacrifice. Just be thankful that you were able to be in the life of such a wonderful man."
Harry sighed. Why does she have to be right all of the time? He nodded complacently, then asked a question which had been nagging at the back of his mind. "Did you and Abie ever find the Indigo you were looking for? I thought Voldemort was after her, and you started worldgating to search for her. You were going to have her stay at Hogwarts to keep her safe, right?"
"We searched six worlds with his scanner and found an orange and three whites, but no one nearly powerful enough to be the girl we were looking for. There was a strange energy trail in Blanca New York, but when we traced it to the origin, it was a dead end at an alley. We decided that is must have been either a fluke or a Portkey gone awry... there were wards around the whole street, so it might have done something strange like transport the Portkey user through a world rip."
"So, until she's discovered, you're second in the Spectrum only to Abie? He's graduated to Violet, correct?"
"Yeah. It's great that we've got such a charismatic and intelligent leader now, he's much better than Jed Ragsdale was. Pity he went insane and is now teaching choir at Beauxbatons." Ginny smirked as she thought of the pale, dark-haired man teaching Fleur Delacour's sister to sing.
"When are you going to recall the first session of the Spectrum?" Harry asked. I mean, you're going to sill have to look for the Indigo, right?"
"Yeah, we still can't find her - she's not in this world, or Atlantis. Well, at least she wasn't last weekend." Harry sat up and looked at her as Ginny clapped a hand over her mouth, turning bright red and rolling over, away from him, to face the stream to her left. "I should NOT have said that."
"That's where you disappeared to in the middle of the day? Why you were almost late to the wedding? A Spectrum meeting? And an unauthorized one at that? The Ministry hasn't been informed of this - Abie could be sent to Caer Myrddin if anyone finds out about an unsupervised Spectrum meeting, as well as you, being second in charge. The public is still scared about you guys form a couple of years back."
"Harry, you don't understand." Ginny curled up, exasperated. "The spectrum can't be regulated by the Ministry or by any other legislative body of mortals. It just happens! It's been called in times of need for thousands of years - far before the Ministry was even created! You can't authorize when people get called to the spirit world! It just happens!"
Harry lowered the tone of his voice slightly, sensing the pain of misunderstanding coming from his girlfriend. "Gosh, Gin, I know. But those buffoons in the Regulations Department don't know anything. Bloody bureaucrats - the regulatory officials are all Fudge's strongest supporters from before Lupin was Minister. They want everything under their control and dislike things they don't know enough about. Dedalus Diggle is the only one keeping them from trying to shut it down entirely." He cocked his head to one side, puzzled. "Not quite sure why, though."
"He's an introductory yellow. We found him astroprojecting in the Leaky Cauldron one day after he had a bit too much to drink. Passed out, he did, but his spirit was till harking for some more liquor and went up to Tom to ask for another Bloody Mary. Bit of a problem, however, for astra-spirits can't speak. So when Tom tried to shake the words out of him and his hand went straight through Diddy, he freaked and called the Aurors."
Ginny giggled as Harry gaped. 'Well, the experience frightened Tom half to death, and Abie and I had to Obliviate him as well as three other people in the bar and an entire squad of Aurors, all twelve of them. e had to trick them into thinking it was a prank call, and blamed it on a name we made up on the spur of the moment. Hope some kid named Michael Moser isn't in Caer Myrddin right now."
Harry shook his head in amazement. "Dedalus Diggle's in the Spectrum? This is more than I can understand. Why doesn't he come out in the open? It's something you should be proud of, not hide it in a closet with the rest of your figurative skeletons."
Ginny sighed, and scooted back over to lay her head in Harry's lap. "Over half of the Spectrum is anonymous, Harry. We're feared and hated, ridiculed and envied. To most people, we'd be better off dead, or stuck in another world they'll never be able to reach. That's why we're so secretive, or at least part of it."
"The other part is the same reason we aren't called to session except in times of need. We can't do common and petty things like tell you if you'll meet the love of your life in the next ten days, or what you'll wear tomorrow, or where your car keys are - that's stuff for Muggle psychics, occasionally whites and crystals... but oranges and above are too high on the psychic power scale to be able to see these things. We get all the murders, rapings, assassination attempts, kidnappings, etc. that happen. It's not a pretty picture. Which is why most of the Spectrum members eventually go insane."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Brianne found herself in an alley that looked frighteningly familiar. The sun had barely set, and a dim twilight had fallen over the city she had landed in. Walking cautiously around the cardboard box near her feet, Brianne tried to exit the alley, which was growing more ominously scary by the moment. She walked straight out towards the sidewalk, bustling with sobered, silent people, all dressed in contrasts of black, white and, grey. Brianne ran into something invisible, which glowed electric blue for a second and then disappeared once more as it thrust her backwards into the wall behind her.
Panicking, Brianne closed her eyes and started to rock back and forth. I know I've been here before... and something bad is going to happen if I don't get out of here... how can I get out? She started shaking once more and her breathing began to come in short, irregular gasps.
A crackling sound was heard from her left as a tall lanky figure entered the alley, cloaked entirely in mystery and shadows as he walked straight through the barrier, no visible affect on him at all.
"Oh my God, please, you have to help me! I can't get out of here! Please, help me leave... something bad is going to happen if we don't leave right away!" she cried, running to the man silhouetted by the flickering streetlight behind him.
"Something bad, you say?" a cynical voice asked. Brianne shied away from the man; he had the voice of a nice person turned horribly bad, corrupted by hard years and a lifetime of shady acts. He grabbed her arm and pushed her against the side wall of the alley, squeezing her arm until she cried out in pain. "Something bad could happen if you don't agree to come with me. We've been looking for you for a long time, and your services are all we need."
She gasped as his grip became even more vice-like. "What do you think I am? I'm not some sort of hoe you can just pick off the streets whenever you want - I'm not who you think I am! There must be some mistake! I'm lost... Please," she begged as the pain became unbearable," Just let me go and leave me alone!"
"Only when you agree to come with me," the attacker snarled, an evil grin curling on his lips. He brought his knee up to her stomach and pinned her to the wall, bringing his face down mere inches from hers. "Just say yes, you pathetic bitch, and no harm will come to you."
Brianne screamed and kicked at the attacker's shins, missing but grazing the side of his knee slightly, startling him enough to allow Brianne to writhe out of his grip and run at the invisible barrier.
The moment she reached it, however, she was thrown into a suspension in midair, and into incredible agony. It felt as if her entire body was aflame from the inside out, pain flaring from her bones, and as though her skin was being stabbed with millions of invisible needles. Her muscles contorted, unable to take the amount of sheer pain, while nerves spasmed out of her control. Instinct and panic set in, giving Brianne no control over anything.
She was suddenly flung backwards, hitting the back wall of the alley and landing splayed on the ground beneath the naked light bulb protruding from the wall directly above her head. A small pool of cold, unforgiving white light circled her stunned form. Sharp footsteps echoed off the gray stone and metal trash cans as the intruder rapidly approached her. Stepping into the light, he pushed back the hood of his robes, revealing a shock of messy black hair previously hidden.
He smirked, and his emerald eyes glinted maliciously. "Will you come with me, girl, or will I have to kill you now?"
She whimpered slightly as she scuttled backwards, pressing her back up against the cold stone wall. 'No, please just leave me alone," she implored, fear settling above her like a thick haze. "Just leave me alone!" she repeated louder and more panicked, as he did not stop his approach. Her vision blurred slightly as she began to cry.
"Oh, I don't think so," the man laughed hollowly, stepping ever closer to her. "I'm going to have a little fun with you before I take you to Lord Voldemort." He pinned her to the wall forcibly and grabbed her collar, ripping the buttons off of the front of her shirt as he tore the garment from her body. Brianne screamed and began to hyperventilate from fear as she thrashed about, attempting to knock him away.
Lightheaded and exhausted, the last thing Brianne saw before losing consciousness was a lightning shaped scar on her attackers' forehead.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Late into the afternoon, Harry and Ginny had sat underneath their tree, mostly relaxing in the calm of each other's silent company. About twenty minutes previous, Ginny had fallen asleep, her small form nestled snugly against his, a sea of red curls spread out onto his chest. Harry brought a tentative hand up to her forehead, brushing a lock of her hair away from her face.
How is it possible for someone to look so peaceful and beautiful and not even be aware of it? Just by sleeping... Harry shifted slightly, pulling Ginny closer to him so he could wrap his arms loosely around her waist. She stirred and buried her head into his shoulder.
"But Mum, Fred and George made me eat the last cookie," she mumbled softly before falling back asleep. Harry grinned. Ginny was the most random person ever when not fully conscious.He tilted his head slightly to the left and rested his head on the top of Ginny's, closing his eyes and sinking into the pool of relaxation her presence created. It was amazing, he realized, that just a simple hug or a hand on my shoulder can bring me out of my insanity...
A few years ago, right before the war's ending, Harry had grieved so much over the combined deaths of Albus Dumbledore, Cedric Diggory, and Hagrid that at times he was thrown into terrible, destructive rages, throwing things and yelling in his anger and pain. Ginny had been the only one to be able to retrieve his troubled mind from these phases. Her presence soothed him out of his grief, and ultimately brought about his salvation.
He probably would have died in one of his more reckless moments if it wasn't for her.
"I love you, Ginny," he whispered into her ear. 'You've always been here for me, and i hope i can someday return the favor."
Then he leaned back and fell asleep in the golden late afternoon sunlight.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Brianne awoke and found herself gasping for breath, heart pounding and eyes wide open, staring at a dark grey ceiling. She sat up and found the woman Bianca sipping tea in front of the hearth. A bolt of lightning flashed in the window to Brianne's right and startled her already skittish mind. She walked over and resumed her seat from across the seductress.
"Did what I just see really happen? Why didn't I remember it? I knew I was raped, but couldn't recall the experience." she said quietly, stuttering slightly as her pulse began to slow to a regular tempo.
"Yes. That's what happened that fateful night, when one of the old Dark Lord's minions was sent to do some 'dirty work.' He unlocked your powers, Brianne. Wittingly or no, but now you need to use them. powers like yours aren't meant to be wasted."
Brianne cuddled her son close o her chest and started to rock back and forth in indecision. By the vacant expression in her eyes, the older woman could tell that everything would be turning out exactly as she wanted for it to become.
"What's your choice, girl? Are you in or out?" Bianca asked, prodding an answer out of the conflicted girl.
"Well, I - I think I'm in. I need shelter and i want Michael to have protection from harm. For my third reward, in exchange for my services.. I want... I want revenge."
Bianca was intrigued, as the girl's tone had suddenly taken a vengeful and spitefully angry twist. "Revenge on who?"
"Revenge on the man who put me into this situation. On the one who inadvertently made me make this decision in the first place," Brianne ploughed ahead, loathement and abhorrence fueling the power of her words.
"I want revenge on Harry Potter."
Hooray! I'm finally done!!! *breathes a sigh of relief* Happy belated birthday, Katie!
Sorry it took so long, everyone (esp. Derek), but I for one, think it was well worth the wait.
Chapter four be up mid March-ish? I hope... please review! All kinds appreciated, except 'omg, you're so good, i love it, write more fast' types of reviews. That doesn't help me at all, except they're good for a laugh once in a while.
Flames welcomed, they will be used to heat the band hall.
*with a hug and a kiss and I'm out like this!*
Melodi