2 years later
"Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory."
Ginny drank a third time, her eyes wet with tears.
"I can't believe it," Carmen whispered. "It's like a nightmare."
Jeremy's eyes were red, and he kept swiping at his nose. "Cedric was a mate of my brother's," he said thickly. "He was--always really nice to me when he came over--let me ride his broomstick and all--"
Ginny put her arm around him, and for once he didn't pull away. "We've got Dumbledore on our side," she whispered fiercely. "And Harry. Those are really good odds."
He said sharply, "Come off it, Gin, Harry's just a kid like us. I know you're still obsessed with him and all, but--"
"No! I heard what happened from Ron. He didn't just sneak out while You-Know-Who's back was turned. They had a duel, an honestly wizard duel, and their wands did something funny and then Harry was able to get away. He was hurt, and weak, and he still brought Cedric's body back. Could you have done that?"
The other two shook their heads, wide-eyed.
Ginny said in a low, intense voice, "I know he's just fourteen--I know he's not a fantastically skilled wizard--I know he's just human like us. But I also know he's Harry, and if anyone can beat Lord Voldemort--"
Carmen clapped her hands to her mouth. "Ginny!"
"He says the name, and I will too. It's just a name. If anyone can beat him, Harry can. I believe in him." Ginny said it a second time, her voice a diamond-hard whisper. "I believe in him."
It was after the feast had made its sad closing, and everyone was slowly filing out, that Professor Dumbledore made his way over to the Gryffindor table. "Miss Weasley," he said. "May I have a private word with you, please?"
Ginny gulped and snuck a look at Carmen and Jeremy. They both gave her wide-eyed looks. "Y-yes, Professor?"
"Miss Weasley," he said, leading her a little way away from most of the crowd. "I need not ask if you recall the affair of the Chamber of Secrets."
She gulped again. "No, Professor," she said. "Or--yes--I-I do recall." She didn't like to think about it, ever.
"From what Harry told me after it was done with, Tom Riddle was able to do the things he did because he took some of your vital self from you."
She stared at the floor. "Yes, Professor."
"And when he came out of the diary, you fell into a coma-like state, because he was using so much of that vitality that there was very little left for you."
"Yes, Professor." It was only a whisper now.
"And when Harry destroyed the diary, all of that went back into you. All of it, Miss Weasley."
For a moment, she couldn't think what he meant, and then she gave a great gasp, her eyes flying up to meet his. "Y-you mean--there's still some of--Tom--still in me? Somewhere?"
"That may very well be the case, Miss Weasley."
She covered her mouth with her hands. For a moment, she thought she was going to be sick. "Can't--can't you do something?" she pleaded. "I don't want him there, Professor--"
"Even if I could, I would not. You see, there is a little bit of Tom Riddle still somewhere inside Lord Voldemort--oh--deep inside. The very core, you might say. If your corresponding piece of Tom, hiding inside you, gives us even a small advantage over him . . . we need that advantage, Miss Weasley."
Ginny took a sobbing breath. "But I don't understand how--"
"I must confess, nor do I. But if you begin having odd dreams--or you seem to know things that will happen, before they do--"
"But I'm no good at Divination, Professor--"
"In this case, you might be. At the first sign of anything odd, I ask you to contact me straight away. I've sent a letter to your parents with the same request."
She put her face in her hands again. "I--I--"
His hand settled on her shoulder, warm and comforting. "I realize it is a great deal to ask of you. Under normal circumstances, I shouldn't even dream of it. But we are entering dark times, Miss Weasley, and before they are over, many will be asked to do far worse things. Young Harry for instance."
She looked up at that. Harry had already been through so much . . . but she'd seen his face during Dumbledore's speech, set and white. He was ready to do anything that was asked of him. How could she do less?
Her shoulders straightened. "Y-yes, Professor. I understand."
"Very well."
He smiled on her. "You are a Gryffindor, and a Weasley--a formidable combination. Even if you were untested, I would have complete faith in you, Miss Weasley. But you have been tested, and have come through as strongly as you could. My faith is thus that much stronger. Thank you."
She nodded, jerkily.
"It may well come to nothing, after all. It was only a theory of mine. However, if something does come of it, you must be strong." He paused, as if searching for words. To Ginny, he looked old all of a sudden, frail bones and translucent papery skin. It shook her, this reminder of his mortality.
"I realize how much it may take for you to face these demons for our sake," he said at last.
Old, frail, translucent . . . but there was still a core of iron, and when she met his eyes it glinted at her.
"For Harry's sake, Professor," Ginny said quietly.
He was silent, peering at her. Whatever he saw there, it seemed to satisfy him. "For Harry's sake."
FINIS