Disclaimer: The characters, places and situations of the Harry Potter series are the property of JK Rowling and other associated companies. The original characters are the property of the author.
Author's Note: Just a reminder that the characters from 1352 are my originals. They are the children of the founders of the school and have been introduced before (The Road To Nowhere). I owe most of my knowledge of the Medieval society of England to Timeline and its author Michael Crichton.
Thanks To: Hibiscus: I know you still have some catching up to do but I wanted to thank you anyway for your review—I love the slobbery kitty too. They were inspired by my aunt's cat and dog in Michigan. I wrote that chapter at the time and I guess I just liked them so much I wrote them into it.
Paranoidchick13: Don't worry. Draco and Ginny will come to an understanding soon.
Kim The Manipaltive Little Mo: I will update weekly now that school's all settled. Expect a new chapter every Friday, or around there. So now you don't have to wait as long. Sorry.
Linda: I love the affirmation! You really have a way with making people blush. Thanks, doll.
*A great big thanks to Oliverwoodsgirl whose story I am editing. Your patience is rock-solid, even when I screwed up. Thanks for letting me get my act together and for not firing me as your beta. Read this insightful story and her other clever works here on fanfiction. I know she would love the reviews.
Chapter Eight
Burdens
"Empty again
Sunken down so far
So scared to fall
Might not get up again
So I lay at Your feet
All my brokenness
I carry all of my burdens to you…"
Jars of Clay: 'Much Afraid'
Ginny bit at her lip nervously and snatched secret glances at the man who was bandaging the torn skin of her palm. Her stomach lurched as she saw him inspecting the scars of her failed attempt at suicide and the curious stripe across her palm just above her newest injury—a brand, marking her for her service to the Dark Lord.
Charitably he said nothing of this and continued to work in silence.
As he tied off her bandage he surveyed her with a calculating expression, much like Ron did when he was trying to discern a lie.
"Why do you stare at me thus? You are like a frightened child. You observe me in secret but cannot look at me directly," Mungo Hufflepuff asked, his penetrating stare forcing Ginny to be candid.
Ginny bit her lip again and stared at her bandage, playing with the edges unconsciously.
"Take care with that wound, you do not want it to scar." After a moment's thought, he added with a wry smile, "Or maybe you do. You seem to be a collector of scars."
"Why not?" Ginny admitted in a weak voice. "At least they remind you—," she trailed off thoughtfully.
"Remind you of what, Virginia?"
"Of the past. That's something that will always be with you, like scars."
"You have many scars in your past?" Mungo asked with a curious and openly sympathetic smile.
Ginny must have been gawking because she made him blush and look away.
"Your mind wanders. Where does it go?"
"Oh," Ginny said. It was her turn to blush, but it was an embarrassed blush. "I'm sorry. You remind me so much of my brother," she admitted with a nervous smile.
"And you my sister," Mungo added with a smile to match hers.
A moment later Ginny's smile faded and she swallowed hard. "Is Imogen awake? We don't have long. We have to get back."
Mungo nodded slowly. "She is still asleep. Azria is with her." He noticed Ginny's expression as she half flinched at his sister's name.
It was just one of those unexplainable reactions. Ginny was so sure that she'd wanted to meet them, her exceedingly intriguing ancestors. Now that she was here, she had come to a sort of realization and she didn't like what it had shown her. They seemed free from the worry and care that she had carried around for so long. It must be terribly easy to commit your future heirs to a task nearly impossible to achieve (they had achieved it—killing Voldemort—but at great sacrifice). The three chosen had no idea what they had sent her, Harry and Lucy into. How did they know if the task could be pulled off or not?
Ginny had become angry.
They were delighted to see her, realizing who she was. They'd had so many questions for her—Azria and Galahad to be specific. Mungo was her only solace in that he shielded her from the curiosity of the others. He had seen her distress and anger regarding them.
She said nothing and might have even glared at them, she couldn't recall, she had been half drowned at the time.
"Walk with me, Virginia. I have a wish to show you something," Mungo said, standing and proffering a hand which Ginny took warily.
They walked silently into the sunlight. From the smaller and older of the two castles, the one that in modern times was a ruin in the Forbidden Forest, she could see and hear all of the sounds of a market. Mungo walked along a narrow road, heading out of the confines of the castle wall. Ginny followed silently and obediently.
"Judging by your reaction to the queries of my sister and of Galahad, I suspect that you have succeeded in the task?" Mungo began tentatively.
Ginny clenched her teeth, biting back a sarcastic response. Sarcasm was probably lost on these people. Instead she opted for ignoring the question and a quick retreat. "I have to get back to Imogen. We have to get home. It looks late."
"Please, Virginia." Mungo placed a gently restraining hand on her shoulder.
"You don't understand. None of you do. Are we just some bloody servants to you? Is that what we are? You care only about you stupid task. He's dead. There are no more Slytherin heirs. There. Go back and tell your bloody friends the good news. And let me go!" Ginny was red in the face and she felt tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. She scowled. It seemed to help suppress the tears.
Mungo looked around horrified. "Hush. Lower your voice. The Slytherins still exist here and are much feared."
"I will not. You don't know what you've asked of us. We're torn apart. Emptied out. Maren's heir, Lucy, she died for your stupid task. She was helpless and they killed her right off. Harry, Faramir's heir, has been hunted all of his life, his family was taken from him. He's killed for you. They gave more than you bargained that they would. You don't even know them and yet you sold their souls for some unseen, far off prophesy. You're all dreamers. Visionaries. You've fucked with our lives without the smallest idea of how irreparable the damage has been."
Mungo blinked and shook his head. "I…I am sorry, Virginia. I know that it must have been a difficult objective to reach, but you have managed. You have saved your world."
Ginny rounded on the man who looked like Ron, anger flashing in her eyes. "I would have him back. I would have Voldemort back and ruling all of us if it meant that Lucy would still be alive and Harry could be happy. I don't give a damn about Dark Lords or the end of the world. I don't give a damn! You are all so unbelievably selfish. You sit here in your plush world, your sickening feudal society planning for us to do what should have been your task."
"Virginia, you are making little sense," Mungo began. They were now at the solitude of the river where less people would hear Ginny's ranting but Mungo still looked nervous.
"I'm making every bit of sense," she pointed to the battlements of the stone structure on the mill bridge. Across the bridge the flour mill still raged, ablaze in the waning sun of the late afternoon. Ginny pointed at two figures standing on the battlements in deep discussion. Eowyn Slytherin and a monk. "You could end all of this now. Why don't you kill her?"
Mungo, who looked regretful to have to say it, hung his head and admitted, "It gets more complicated where she is concerned."
Ginny bit down hard in frustration, she felt the bitter taste of copper in her mouth. She'd bitten her lip too hard. "Complicated?" she echoed. "Complicated? I wasn't meant to be captured and used to get to Lucy. Lucy wasn't meant to be used as bait to get to Harry, the one person who could destroy Voldemort—the one person who's tried in every single way to destroy him. He's used me, he's killed Lucy, he's killed Harry's parents! Fuck you and all of your complicated issues. It seems very simple to me." Ginny's words were furious and she hissed like a venomous reptile. She felt she couldn't hear anymore excuses. She had to leave.
"I wish I'd never come."
"Why did you?" Mungo asked in measured tones.
"Because of that monk," she pointed once again to the mill and the two figures. Mungo was now staring at the hooded figure with interest. "But I guess your beloved seer never mentioned him. Perhaps she hasn't seen him either. Perhaps you're all just frauds. I've got to go."
Ginny turned and headed toward the castle and up to Imogen. Mungo made no effort to restrain her, but instead headed slowly in the direction of the mill, never taking his eyes from the two figures.
***
"Ah, you are still with us." Azria neared the bed where Imogen had just stirred and pulled herself into a sitting position. "I am Azria. I have been taking care of your injuries. Galahad said you had quite a fall.
Imogen sat up straighter in a surreal-like alertness. Was this really the woman that she had seen in the Pensieve? If so, then Imogen had a multitude of questions for her. The beautiful woman came and sat next to Imogen and stared at her for the longest moment. Imogen felt uncomfortable and transparent under the gaze. It was as if Azria new all of her secrets. She had many.
"There are two people that I am eager for you to meet, that is if you do not object," Azria continued hopefully.
Imogen blinked a few times to clear her vision. She nodded her consent.
Azria stood and retreated to the hallway. She came back moments later with Galahad and Maren. Both were wearing hunting clothes and carried broadswords. Maren had a bow and quiver slung over her shoulder.
Imogen smiled. Maren was the person that she'd been particularly interested in seeing. She seemed to break all of the frustrating women's stereotypes of the times. In most cases it was illegal to dress as a man, yet she did it openly. Imogen admired her.
It was Galahad who spoke first. "I am glad to see you are better. But I must know why it is that the archers on the tower were shooting at two small girls in the river. What is your business with the mill?"
"We had no business with it. We blew it up."
"Yes, we saw that bit," Maren chimed in with a wry smile.
Imogen looked fleetingly at Azria who seemed to urge her on with her kind smile and piercing eyes. "We were following someone."
"Eowyn?" Maren offered.
"But what of her? What was your business with her?" Galahad seemed to eye her with suspicion now.
Azria interceded by saying, "She has no business with Eowyn, Galahad. Listen to yourself. It is always the conspiracy you are looking for, is it not?"
Maren moved to place a hand on Galahad's arm, always keeping an eye on Imogen, seeming almost as suspicious of her as he was.
Imogen was becoming indignant. She was not helping Lucius Malfoy nor would she ever. She didn't exactly know Eowyn or her interest in him, but she would never aid anyone who was collaborating with him.
"I'm not helping them. That monk you saw her with, he is from our time. Any interest he has in Eowyn Slytherin can't add up to anything good." She bit her tongue. She shouldn't have said that. She hardly knew these people and they all seemed to want to think the worst of her. Why should she admit anything?
"I know you did not have anything to do with them. I have been watching him since he appeared here in the mid of last week." Azria looked to a stunned Maren and Galahad and continued to explain. "I have seen him in dreams. They are making an exchange of some kind. I know not what that might entail as of yet."
"And she is not an agent of his?" Galahad said, placing his cobalt eyes questioningly on Imogen again.
Azria smiled. "No, she came with my heir who is now with Mungo. And she has sacrificed much for our cause as well. She was involved in the destruction of the Slytherin heir. She is no traitor." Azria looked to Imogen and smiled wryly. She knew!
Imogen couldn't keep her eyes from going wide with surprise and panic. How much did she know?
"I see you know of which I speak, child. Tell me, why do you hide thus? This is not the look you were born with. Why disguise yourself? What have you to fear?"
Imogen couldn't find her voice for a long time. Finally she spoke, "It's not out of fear but out of obligation that I hide. I need to look after my family, protect them, and the others that I care about. It is because of them—," Imogen stopped and looked up as Ginny crashed through the door of her room looking hassled and impatient.
"We don't have time to waste. The Time-Turner was only set for three hours," Ginny said, walking past the others as if she hadn't seen them.
"Virginia, what has you in such a state?"
"Come on. Can you stand?" Ginny said to Imogen, ignoring Azria and the curious stares of Maren and Galahad.
"Of course I can. What's going on, Ginny?" Imogen asked, as startled as the rest by her peculiar behavior.
"Nothing. We need to get back is all." Ginny helped Imogen to her feet and then turned to Azria, "Mungo has all of the answers that I'm sure you are all so eager to learn about the last of Slytherin's heirs, etc." She looked fleetingly at the others and gave a sarcastic smile. "It's been a real pleasure. Bye."
Without a word, Imogen slipped her fine gold chain around the two of them and they were gone.
"Galahad, Maren, retrieve Faramir. I wish to tell you all something of the curious little raven-haired companion of my heir. She is not who she claims to be."
Maren and Galahad gave identical curt nods and departed on their task as Mungo came through the doors looking harrassed.
"Sister, I must speak with you at once about our two visitors. I will explain their destruction of the mill and more."
"For the good Lord's sake, Mungo, what is it?" Azria said, with mounting apprehension.
"Eowyn plans something. Her mysterious companion that they have been following plans a merging of the two worlds in grand scale war of some sort," Mungo began breathless. He stopped and looked around him for an instant. "Where have they gone? Virginia and the little dark-haired one?"
"They left. They had to get back to their own time. I am glad you have come. I have some interesting news to impart regarding that little friend of Virginia's and you can tell us all your news about Eowyn."
"You should not have let them go, Azria. We need them."
***
"Well, I don't see what you're all up in arms about?" Sirius threw up his hands and shook his head.
"It's all right there, Sirius," Arabella raged holding a copy of the Daily Prophet in front of his nose and pointing to the front page article. London Orphanage Siege: New Dark Order Responsible? Seven Dead, Forty-three Missing.
"Yeah. Since when have you relied on the Prophet as an informed and truthful source, Bella?" Sirius raised an eyebrow and folded his arms incredulously in that way that infuriated Arabella.
"He's got a point, Bella. You are starting to sound a bit batty," Jill pointed out helpfully.
"You stay out of this. Since when are you on his side anyway?" Arabella snapped, slamming the paper down on her desk and falling heavily into the chair behind it.
"Since he started making more sense than you, dear," Jill replied and then smirked as she realized the full oddity of the statement. "Gabriel, dear, don't do that. I'm sure Mr. Corbin wants his files just as he had them before he left." His mother rushed over to the desk that he was systematically destroying.
"Where are you two going tonight? Two month anniversary or some nauseating shh—," Arabella began to say but looked warily in Gabe's direction and changed her wording, "shlup like that?"
"Right, some shlup like that. We're just having dinner and it's nothing special if you want to come," Jill laughed at her friend's ridiculous censorship.
"What and miss yet another lovely evening with the always moody and cross Imogen Spencer? More door slamming, yelling and/or ignoring, blaming me for her unfortunate life?" Arabella said, kicking her feet up onto her desk.
"Did I just hear my name mentioned?" Imogen asked, walking in from behind Arabella who began to laugh.
"Yes, dear. Singing your praises as always," Arabella lied as Imogen glared at her and threw her coat off.
"Oh and now it's my turn," Imogen began brightly.
"Go ahead, love. We're all ears," Arabella offered as Imogen picked Gabriel up and sat behind Corbin's desk with the small boy in her lap.
An owl flew in from the window, a large tawny one with yellow eyes. Clicking its beak, it announced that it had a letter. Jill took it as the bird immediately alighted and disappeared.
"It's for you, Sirius," she said, handing him the envelope and returning to the war-like banter of Imogen and Arabella.
"You can't cook," Imogen said with an elegant raise of her eyebrow.
"I've never seen you lift a finger, Miss," Arabella countered.
"That doesn't mean I can't. I am an excellent cook," Imogen crossed her arms in front of her indignantly. Gabriel mimicked her and glared comically at Arabella who couldn't help but laugh at the pair.
"Cook-off tonight, then," Arabella challenged.
"Name your vice, old lady," Imogen growled.
"Mexican."
"Deal."
"Wait. Imogen, I thought you were watching Gabe for me tonight?" Jill asked, half-panicked that she was backing out of her promise.
"Of course. He can help me."
"No, Gabe is helping me, isn't that right?" Arabella asked the giggling boy.
"I'm helping Im!" the boy announced throwing his arms around Imogen's neck.
"That's settled then," Jill laughed.
Sirius came back into the room looking distracted and hassled.
"Good news or bad?" Jill asked tentatively.
"Not so good. Come on, we have to see Dorothy Fudge before dinner. Apparently she's not happy about something," Sirius said, throwing his leather jacket on hurriedly and helping Jill into her coat.
"Well, why do I have to come?" Jill pouted. "I hate that old bag."
"Damage control," Sirius said.
"She's that irate?" Jill asked.
"Yep."
"Bye. Good luck," Arabella cooed with a wry smile.
"Good luck to you too," Sirius answered. "Imogen's going to run circles around you. She's right. Your cooking is atrocious."
Sirius ducked out of the office with a brief goodbye to Imogen and Gabriel as Jill kissed his forehead and thanked Imogen again.
The door shut just in time to block Sirius from the book Arabella hurled at him for his lack of confidence in her cooking. It crashed into the door with a bang, causing Gabriel to giggle for several minutes.
***
"What's this all about, Dorothy?" Sirius asked holding out the letter that he had just received.
They entered the immaculate and pristine residence of the former Minister of Magic, his wife's residence solely now.
The older woman, graying but very regal-looking with a pinched aristocratic face led them into a neatly appointed room with a blazing fire. She gestured for them to sit. Jill and Sirius did.
"I am pulling my funding." Dorothy's face held not a sign that she was in anyway joking. She was stern and immovable.
"What? Why?" Jill asked urgently.
Sirius shook his head and threw the letter in his hand into the fire. "This is ridiculous. Couldn't we have had this conversation tomorrow? We were just on the way out."
"No. I have just gotten back from my cruise."
"Lovely, why should we give a damn? We know this already," Jill said in a frustrated monotone.
"I arrived home to the most alarming news," Dorothy continued, glaring at Jill for her most uncouth interruption. "Imagine my surprise when I found out who was representing that disgusting excuse for a human being, Peter Pettigrew."
"You can't be serious?"
"I am quite serious," Dorothy answered. "Why, might I ask, do you feel compelled to speak for that horrid man—a man, might I remind you, who killed my husband?" Her eyes were narrowed to dangerous slits.
"I am representing Peter because he deserves a fair trial. Everyone does. And I aim to see he gets one. To hell with your funding, you miserable old witch. How much of this is about your husband really, and how much is about revenge?" Sirius was becoming angry. "I don't have to explain anything to you. I have my own reasons where Peter is concerned."
"Indeed," was all Dorothy could say.
"We've all lost people because of Voldemort. He's killed my godson's parents, my friends, Arabella's brother, Jill's husband, Remus. Countless others. They didn't want revenge. They don't want to see Peter hanged." Sirius stood and Jill followed his lead.
"I'll fund the whole damned operation myself. I don't want you to have any part in it," Sirius finished.
The stern old woman who had remained silent up until this point spoke, "I will pursue this matter. You will not win, Mr. Black. Mr. Pettigrew will die. I will see justice met."
"Goodbye, Dorothy," Sirius said, escorting Jill to the door.
"Goodnight, Mr. Black, Ms. Parry." Dorothy watched them go with calm and practiced indifference. Jill thought she might have detected a smile, an answer to an unseen challenge.
***
"Ron, we've been over this, haven't we?" Hermione lectured slowly.
Ron was sprawled on the floor, pouting as usual. From the lofty perspective of the bed, Hermione counseled him in stern tones. She was becoming quite bored of his rants.
"Colin will make a fine Seeker. Plus, you told Dean to choose in your absence. It's only fair that you trust his judgment now." She raised her eyebrows and cocked her head to one side. "This isn't just about Quidditch, is it?"
"It's about Malfoy," Ron admitted sulkily.
Hermione furrowed her brow in confusion. "How can your problems with the team have anything to do with Draco Malfoy? He doesn't even play anymore," Hermione pointed out reasonably.
"He's the reason I couldn't make the try-outs."
"What did he do this time?" Hermione asked, bracing herself for a boring rant, including one or more of the following: He insulted a Weasley, he cursed and/or hexed someone or something, he was being Draco Malfoy.
"He wanted to know what happened to Ginny. You know, how they got her to give Lucy away."
Hermione heaved a great sigh. "Ron, tell me you didn't hit him, or do anything else that would force me to take points from Gryffindor."
"You would have liked that, wouldn't you?" Ron asked with a wry smile.
"So what did you do?" Hermione asked, no longer fighting to look interested.
"I told him."
"You told him what? You actually had a conversation with him? Ron, I'm impressed." Hermione's eyes lit with amused admiration.
"You're impressed?" Ron echoed. "Ginny's going to be furious with me."
"What did he want to know?"
"Apparently he was unconvinced that she wouldn't willingly give his precious sister up." Ron stopped a minute and then laughed. "He thought that they threatened her and she gave in."
"And?" Hermione prompted.
"And I set him straight. She's still fighting the effects of whatever they pumped her full of. What a prat, he could have seen it, the way she looked. She was near death when we found her. He didn't see it. He still doesn't." Ron shook his head and clenched his teeth.
"Stop grinding your teeth. It's not good for your jaw," Hermione scolded before she could catch herself. "So, he believed you? He's going to go a little easier on her?"
"No. He believed me well enough. He was nearly shocked right out of his chair. It told him to stay away from her. He's not good enough for her and he's the last thing she needs to deal with right now."
"Ron, it's sweet of you to look out for her the way you do. But Ginny's going to be sixteen in two days. She can handle herself. I think she's had enough of proving that to you, to the rest of your family, and Harry too. She's got to make her own decisions. I know you mean well, but let her decide who's good enough for her and who's not. It's really none of your business." Hermione smiled sympathetically.
She'd never had any siblings and she could only imagine how difficult it must be for Ron to let Ginny grow up. But Ginny was like her little sister too, and she knew that there was much more going on between her and Draco Malfoy then Ron would want to know. She decided to leave it at that.
***
"Ruth James?" the guard asked.
"Yes, that's right." Her auburn hair was pulled back into a no-nonsense ponytail. She was wearing the clothes that she'd been wearing at work. She came directly from the Ministry. It was the only way to insure that Arabella would not catch her. Of course this had meant that Imogen would not be making her appearances in several classes today. But, who really cared about that anyway?
"Wand," the stony faced man commanded. He held his hand out and Imogen reluctantly relinquished her wand to him. "You have thirty minutes."
Imogen smiled and allowed herself to be led down a corridor and onto a cell-block, a familiar cell-block. Her smile faded into terror. She had to will herself on. The memories of this place bore down on her mercilessly. It was here, just two short years ago that she had been brought with countless other classmates who were systematically eliminated. She felt like a cheat. She had survived while many others had died. Life never claimed to be fair.
The guard left her standing in front of a small gray cell. Inside the cell sat a man on a stone bench, slumped and miserable looking. Imogen wanted to cry. He didn't deserve this. Everyone made mistakes in life. She didn't believe that any of them merited death. And death was exactly what he was staring down.
His verdict would come next week after the last of the proceedings. It was all in order. Sirius was a talented orator and very brilliant, but words and logic would not get him out of this one.
She couldn't help but feel that she had some hand in his sad fate.
"Peter?" she asked in a mouse's voice. Her hands were shaking. Would he know who she was? Would he hate her just the same?
"Who are you and what do you want?" he asked in a gruff voiced. He didn't look up. He looked miserable, like a caged lion.
Imogen reached up and lowered the hood of her cloak. He still wouldn't recognize her. He'd never met Ruthie, her newest disguise. But he might remember Imogen.
"It's me, Peter," she said. She had no idea how to explain this to him. How complicated had things become? She couldn't tell him outright who he was talking to. She hadn't realized just how messed up things had become lately—it was all routine to her. Ministry, school, hiding, spying, it all bled into one continuous waking nightmare.
Peter eyed her suspiciously, standing and slowly coming to the bars in front of her. "Should I know you?"
She nodded and smiled. "Thank you for saving the others," she said.
"The others?" Peter repeated, confused.
Imogen bit her lip. How could she be subtle about this. She couldn't explain it all outright. Who knew if the room was under surveillance, etc. "You were the one to alert the Ministry to Ravenclaw's castle and you sabotaged Voldemort's plans. I knew you would." She bit her lip and paused. "I believed in you. Remember? I told you that you didn't have to worry about me. And I'm here now." A tear fell involuntarily down her cheek.
Peter's confusion melted into a look of realization. "You…but you…I saw you…I held you…carried you out. You were dead." He sank to his knees and stared at the ground, trying desperately to put it all together.
Imogen knelt where he was on the dreadfully cold stone. She reached through the bars and took both of his hands in hers. "It's difficult to explain. Just know that I'm here now. You're not alone."
He brought both of her small hands to his mouth and kissed them. "I don't fear death now…now that I know you live."
"You have no reason to fear death. Your punishment will soon be over. You won't suffer needlessly again." Imogen said in a barely audible tone.
"You must be an angel." Peter looked at her with an air of complete reverence.
Imogen smiled warmly and shook her head. "Angels are impervious to sin. I have the blood of many on my hands."
"You are an angel to me," Peter countered.
No other words were said. They sat hands clasped to each others. They merely took shelter in the presence of each other, if only briefly from the never ending storm. Too soon the guard called. Imogen's time was up and she left the cell and Peter reluctantly.
