Disclaimer: The children army was my own warped idea. The separation of the souls, etc. were concepts that I shamelessly ganked from Philip Pullman's series His Dark Materials. The original characters are mine. The not-so-original characters are Rowling's.

Author's Note: Yep, so Imogen's secret is out. She's Lucy. And, quite frankly, you should have caught on to that before Lucius did. Now comes the part where I explain Faramir and Mungo's blowing her cover—nice goin' boys!

Chapter Thirteen

Not Today

"It's always been up to you

It's turning around

It's up to me

I'm gonna do what I have to do

Just do

Give me a little time

Leave me alone a little while

Maybe it's not too late

Not today…"

Avril Lavigne: 'Tomorrow'

                Ginny took a deep breath to calm herself and removed the Time-Turner that Imogen had given her the night before. She was frightened to have to go back there alone—without her. But she had to.

                She placed it around her neck as the sounds of the forest began to creep in around her. She came to the patch in the forest where the trees broke and the ruins of the old Hufflepuff castle sat unknown for centuries. She saw that the sun was very close to setting. She would have to find Mungo and hear what he had to say before it set completely. She had no desire to come back through the Forbidden Forest after nightfall.

                She took another steadying breath and turned the hourglass-like charm at the end of the fine gold chain. She'd been more careful this time around to pay attention to the layout of the castle and guessed that it she stood in this particular area of the ruins, she would end up in one of the chambers off of the main hall. She had no desire to end up out in the open marketplace again.

                It just so happened that she had been right. The forest disappeared around her and she found herself face to face in a low lit room with a girl of about her own age. Her face was framed with a white cloth that covered the length of her dark hair. Ginny recognized that face as the one belonging to the girl in the hut on the edge of the marketplace. It was her and her brother that Ginny had seen dead inside that very hut with her parents. Ginny felt a wave of sadness for this girl as she realized what sort of end she was soon to meet.

                "The Lady Azria is in her rooms," the girl said simply, showing no alarm at Ginny's sudden appearance.

                "You know who I am?" Ginny asked in bewilderment.

                "Yes, would you like me to take you to her?" the girl asked, opening the door. They were in a room off of the kitchens. Ginny could feel the waves of heat from the fires. It must be dreadfully miserable in there, she thought briefly.

                Ginny kept snatching glances at the girl who frankly ignored her. Ginny was beginning to draw a resemblance between this girl and Harry. Her eyes were dark but in every other respect, just like him. "I'm sorry if I seem rude to you but, what's your name?"

                The girl stopped and stared at her, cocking her head slightly. "I'm? What is I'm?"

                Ginny almost smacked her own forehead. She needed to take a little bit more precaution when speaking. Imogen had warned her to refrain from contractions and all other new forms of speech, slang and that. "What I meant to say is what are you called? What is your name?"

                "Ah!" The girl said nodding and then continuing up the stairs. "I am called Claire."

                "I have seen you in town, have I not?" Ginny asked, feeling out an almost comfortable flow in her speech now.

                "Yes, at the house of my parents. They are potters there. I work here in the kitchens. And the oldest of my brothers—," Claire began.

                "Faramir?" Ginny asked. It was becoming painfully clear to her that this was what Hermione had been telling her about. If only she had paid attention to what she had been saying. It was some vague story of how Isaiah and Faramir's feud over the sword of Gryffindor culminated in Faramir's exile and the murder of his family by Isaiah. Ginny wondered how much of this could be true. She knew they would die. She had seen it herself. But, Isaiah, though rash and quick to action, seemed far more noble than to hack an entire family apart. But, she reasoned, it was the Middle Ages. A foreign place and time to her modern sensibilities.

                "Yes, my brother Faramir is the squire to our late Lord Gryffindor." Claire stopped again and eyed Ginny. "Why do you stare thus? Have I offended you?"

                "Oh. No. No, you haven't…have not. I was just thinking. Sorry," Ginny stammered.

                Claire still leveled a suspicious but very humble stare at her as she opened a door and announced Ginny's presence to someone inside. "Then, good day to you, lady," Claire said with a bow.

                Ginny said nothing but all the while watched the girl with a sorrowful gaze. Fate was cruel. Ginny had never seen any proof to the contrary. She thought of Harry and how his family had been taken from him. Faramir was no different—only a lot more people would be taken from him, not just a mother and father but brothers and a sister. She was a sweet girl, very kind. Ginny watched her leave, thinking that history could not be stopped from repeating itself in this nonsensical, offhand way. She cursed her gift. No one should have to know the things that she knew.

                "I know what it is that you are thinking," a soft voice said from across the room.

                Ginny stepped further in and saw that it was Azria that had spoken. "It is a curse. The knowledge that you gain from this power does not help. It just makes you aware."

                "Yes, but," Ginny tried to adjust her thoughts.

                "You want to help them. Warn them. You cannot. Fate has its way. There is no way to intervene." Azria's expression darkened considerably, "Believe me child. I have tried. I see things to come, horrible things. Things that you will be part of, the people I love will be a part of. Things happen as they will."

                "But," Ginny said, finding her voice, "They can. We changed things, the chosen ones. We defeated Voldemort and changed things."

                "No, child." Azria spoke in a sad but authoritative tone. "You fulfilled your duty. You were always the victors as long as you have been in existence. Fate chose you to win. Fate chose others to lose."

                Ginny nodded hopelessly. Somewhere deep inside of her she knew that this was true.

                A knock at the door brought an end to their conversation as Maren entered timidly at the side of Mungo and Galahad. Maren and Galahad looked almost similar in dress. Ginny imagined that they might have been out on a hunt or some other adventure. She admired Maren and her willingness to break through the female stigma of the period. Where Ginny thought that only censure could be had by such actions, Maren seemed to be highly respected by everyone. Ginny wished that she were somewhat like her. Ron, especially, was always saying that she couldn't handle certain things because she was too young or some other lame excuse. Maren seemed to take none of those excuses that were always heaped on Ginny.

                Mungo was dressed in his usual monk's habit. He struck Ginny as a real academic and yet, he was always around Galahad who, though intelligent enough, seemed to be the type that would not allow himself to be tied down in scholarly pursuits.

                "Virginia," Azria said as the others came in. "We have something very important to tell you of your companion that accompanied you last time."

                "Imogen?" Ginny asked, furrowing her brow in confusion.

                "Yes, that very girl," Azria said. Ginny thought that she detected a hint of the accusing in her voice.

                "She's my friend. She is nothing to worry about," Ginny said, defending Imogen vehemently.

                "She is not what she seems. She is not," Azria stopped and stood. "Mungo, would you? Please?"

                Ginny watched Azria for a moment. She seemed to turn pale and looked like she might be sick. She excused herself from the room and left.

                A short while later, Maren stood and went to attend Azria.

                Ginny left with Galahad and Mungo who invited her to stroll the battlements. Mungo had said that there was something that he wanted to show her.

                "We have reason to believe that your companion is not who she claims she is. She is hiding. Azria has a way of seeing these things and we trust her judgment," Mungo continued when they reached the fresh air of the castles battlements. The restored mill bridge stretched out over the river to her right and just beyond that, Hogwarts castle loomed ominously against the sunset.

                Ginny looked down over the market in the outer bailey, her breath constricting when she saw three familiar figures strolling toward the gate.

                One was the deceptively beautiful snake Eowyn Slytherin and next to her was Lucius Malfoy. Ginny wasn't in the least surprised to see these two together. She knew that they had been collaborating on something. The one person that she was startled to see was Elena Vassikin, following slightly behind the other two looking very nervous and timid. Ginny's first thought was that this was indeed out of character for such a conniving murderer. This was the very same person who was credited with the murder of Lucy Malfoy and just after that she had mysteriously disappeared as Lucius had. She was not at all surprised, when she thought about it, that she would turn up eventually.

                "Virginia?" Mungo asked tentatively.

                Galahad was carefully scanning the crowd below as she was doing and had spotted the same party she had.

                "Hmm?" Ginny asked, caught off guard by the voice that brought her back from her musings.

                "That is her. Azria saw a woman of that very description in her visions. That is your friend Imogen." Mungo stepped up to the battlements next to her and Galahad and pointed down to where Ginny was watching Elena fiddle nervously with a bracelet on her left wrist. Even from this height, Ginny thought she recognized that piece of jewelry somehow.

                "Mungo," Galahad said, cutting their conversation off.

                Ginny was still skeptical. Imogen has nothing to do with Elena.

                Mungo left Ginny's side to speak with Galahad. "Faramir is eager to speak with you," Galahad said, pointing to another figure that was gesturing to them from the bailey yard.

                "I better see to him then," Mungo said urgently.

                As Mungo excused himself and left for the marketplace below, Galahad held out his arm chivalrously to Ginny who took it, stunned. She didn't know what to make of what she was just told. It made no sense. She knew Imogen better than any of them did. She wouldn't. She wouldn't dare. Lucius Malfoy was dangerous. She wouldn't even entertain the idea that Imogen was spying for the other side.

                She could trust her, she knew this. They've gotten it wrong.

                "Why are you silent, lady?" Galahad asked as they made their way back up to Azria's room.

                "It's not the way you say. She wouldn't inform against us. There's got to be something that we're missing." Ginny sank back into her thoughts and didn't hear Galahad's next comment, "Lady Azria has spoken and she is very wise."

                Ginny kept reviewing the facts. Imogen had been a student there since her fourth year. She was a Slytherin, but had always acted nobly. Those were just stereotypes anyway. Houses had never characterized the students correctly. It was flimsy evidence to convict on. She stopped suddenly, a flush of terror rising in her cheeks. "It's Lucy," she said in a whisper more than a voice.

                "Pardon, lady?" Galahad said, stopping next to her, eyeing her warily.

                "Oh, God!" Ginny said, clapping a hand over her mouth. "It's Lucy. Imogen doesn't play the cello, but she has calluses on her fingers like a cellist. She must have killed Elena and disguised herself like her in Ravenclaw castle. Then it's Elena who—," Ginny's eyes were glossed over with rapid thought. Despite the cold evening chill, she felt her temperature rise with fear for her friend. "Where is Mungo?" she asked urgently of Galahad.

                "He's gone with Faramir to silence that treacherous man who plots with Lady Eowyn."

                "No!" Ginny screamed, running to a window where she saw Mungo heading off after Eowyn. Elena was dragged to the mill by Lucius roughly. "No!" Ginny shouted again. She turned to Galahad. "Did he just accuse her? Did he make recognition of her at all?"

                "I assume he did, lady. We will not tolerate Eowyn's spies." Galahad took a tentative step toward her. "Are you feeling well?"

                "Yes!" Ginny snapped urgently. "You've just killed her. He'll kill her!"

                "Who, lady?" Galahad asked with a dashingly furrowed brow.

                "Lucy! It's Ravenclaw's chosen one. That man in the cowl," she pointed to where Lucius just disappeared with Elena. "He's going to kill her now that they've given her away!"

                Realization of what Ginny was ranting about dawned on Galahad's face. "Wait here," he commanded and then charged off in the direction of the bailey and then the mill beyond that.

                Ginny entered the room where Maren and Azria sat serenely. Ginny fought for calm and ignored their questions. She thought that at least Azria deserved to remain in the dark a little while after her presumptions that might cost Lucy her life.

She stood at a window over looking the mill and prayed as she watched Faramir and Galahad enter with broadswords drawn.

                It was Lucy. She knew that this was insane. Her cellists' hands. That bracelet. Ginny had seen Lucy with it when she first met her on the Norman Coast. Her heart beat in anticipation. She wanted to be right. She wanted Lucy to be alive. She hoped that Galahad and Faramir could get to her. She hoped…

                But she saw both men emerge from the mill and sheath their swords in defeat. Was she dead then?

                Ginny's heart pounded, her breaths came laboriously. She spurned all questions that Azria and Maren ventured.

                Finally, Galahad and Faramir appeared in the doorway. Ginny pushed herself away from the window and ran to them. "Was she there? Where is she?"

                "She was not there, lady," Galahad answered calmly.

                "What? Dead?" Ginny asked breathlessly.

                "No. Gone, lady," Faramir ventured.

                "Gone?" Ginny asked wide eyed. Then: "The Time-Turner!" Imogen had one. Perhaps she had used it to escape. Ginny hoped that she had escaped.

                "I have to go," Ginny said, quickly removing her Time-Turner and disappearing in the next moment.

***

                "I'll go for help," Harry said in a strained voice.

                Imogen clutched his collar and shook her head, frightened but unable to speak.

                "You have to help me. I don't know what to do, Imogen," Harry said desperately. He dared not move her. Her injuries looked far too extensive and blood was still streaming from her mouth. She locked eyes with him, frightened, hollowed eyes that begged him not to leave her.

                He heard the sound of a twig snap, but could not look away from her.

                "Oh no!" he heard Ginny gasp as she dropped beside him. He vaguely wondered where she had come from, but was more concerned at the moment with Imogen who was passing into unconsciousness again.

                "Ginny, go get help," Harry said frantically as Imogen's eyes rolled back into her head which dropped heavily against his chest.

                She nodded and raced off immediately.

                She ran, though she had been running quite a way before that. She had run from the forest which was already dark and teeming with the creatures of night, but she ran harder now. Not with the zeal of self preservation but with the thought that her speed, her exertion could very well save someone better than her, braver, more noble. Lucy couldn't die tonight. Though she very well looked like she might. Ginny knew from some deep recess inside of her that Lucy would make it. She has proven that she could do so on several occasions.

                As she thought all of these thoughts she was crashing through the heavy front doors of the school. Upon entering the corridor just outside of the Great Hall, Ginny smacked hard into someone that was rushing equally as fast as she in the opposite direction. It was Professor Snape. Just behind him was Sirius and Professor Dumbledore.

                Ginny ventured to speak, gesturing wildly, but could not manage enough breath to speak actual words.

                Professor Snape grabbed her by the shoulders to steady her as the other two rushed past him and out the doors.

                Deftly, Ginny shook free of his grasp and turned, running after the other two, who had apparently already been acquainted with the situation and knew exactly where they would find Harry and Imogen.

                She stood on the steps at the front of the school and waited for what seemed like interminable minutes. Snape was beside her, but she hardly noticed this.

                She noticed nothing else but the scene that unfolded in slow motion in front of her. She didn't know why, but at that moment she clenched her teeth and under her breath seethed, "Harry, you idiot! You did this!" It was something that she would have never uttered in the range of hearing of any other human being. She never reproached people that severely for things that they couldn't have possibly been aware of. But it wasn't necessarily unwarranted in her opinion.

                She watched with painful breaths as Sirius bent to lift the frighteningly limp and small body of Imogen from Harry's very reluctant arms. He had immediately turned back toward the school. Dumbledore was a little more reluctant, stopping to help Harry from his knees. He seemed to be urging him on. Harry seemed very unwilling to follow.

                Ginny shook her head spitefully, feeling hot tears brimming her eyes.

                "Come, Miss Weasley. I must know what's going on here. I know that you are the most capable person to answer my questions." Snape's voice was cold and, seemingly unfeeling to Ginny's ears.

                "I'm not leaving until I know she's all right," Ginny said, spurning his questions with immovable firmness.

                "There is nothing more you can do for her. You may see her when we are finished, however. That is, if Madam Pomfrey permits it," Snape said with more authority than Ginny was capable of ignoring.

                She nodded solemnly and followed him in after she watched with sick terror as Sirius moved past them and up to the infirmary.

                Harry and Dumbledore followed less urgently.

                That's right, Ginny thought uncharitably, excuse it all away for him, Dumbledore. Let him know what a hero he was for being there first. He should have never dragged her through the mud the way he did. He gave her no other choice. This was why Ginny reckoned that she went after Lucius Malfoy. Harry had made her feel like she was better for nothing else than to die. Her father had thought her better for nothing else.

                Ginny seethed quietly all the way down to Snape's office. She should have never talked to Harry this afternoon. Everything she had told him then, she supposed, was true. Now she doubted it all.

***

                 Harry followed Professor Dumbledore and Sirius into the hallway outside of the infirmary. Sirius was pacing madly and Harry tried not to look at him. Watching his erratic behavior only heightened Harry's unease. She might die tonight knowing only what Harry had told her when he'd last seen her that morning; he didn't love her. It was a lie. He was never happier around any other person. She brightened his world. If he had had a chance with Lucy he might feel the same way. He felt that way for a little while. But then she died. But, Harry hadn't ceased to be when she had left his world. It was somewhere in the unknown, unexplored depths of him, the will to go on because he still had some one. Some one who wanted him, who would love him. Lucy might love him if she were still here. But Imogen was here and did love him. Why wasn't it good enough for him?

Would it be desperately dark and empty if she left him now? Would she want to leave him here out of spite? He certainly deserved it.

                He stared at Dumbledore who leaned on his cane and stared back. It continued some minutes like this until Madam Pomfrey came out, her white robes streaked with blood in a very macabre way. She brushed a gray whip of hair from her face and asked for Dumbledore and Sirius to follow her. Obediently, both trailed after her and she shut the door.

                Harry was alone.

                Desperate as he was to know of Imogen's condition, where she had been, who had attacked her, he couldn't find the voice to ask these questions. He knew no one had a ready answer for him anyway.

                He was left to his thoughts: a torture so acute that Harry found himself unable to stand and endure at the same time. Without bothering to find a seat, Harry sat right on the floor in the hallway and thought.

                He thought of the incredibly brave way she had handled his words. He was severely blunt and unfeeling with her. She had just confessed that she loved him and he threw it back in her face. For what? And then he left her there. He had walked away.

                He was afraid. He was afraid to let her into his life. He was afraid that she wouldn't understand him. He was afraid that if he let her in, she wouldn't love him the same way anymore. He had killed. He had seen things in his life that no one his age should ever have to see. If he were honest with himself, he would have to admit that he didn't want her to reject him—hurt him. So, he hurt her first. And he hated himself for that.

*** 

                "Imogen has been informing for Mrs. Figg this entire semester as I understand it. It was her suggestion that Imogen pose as former Death Eater, Elena Vassikin. She apparently believed that there might be something to gain from this for the stay of execution that they hope to secure for Peter Pettigrew." Snape stopped and looked Ginny in the eye. He was very intrigued by the way she nodded. She was evidently not surprised and definitely, as he suspected, knew much. "What I'm keen to know is why Imogen consented to this? How she became involved? Do you have any light to shed on this, Miss Weasley?"

                Ginny hesitated only slightly, but after seeing what Lucy or Imogen had been through tonight, she wasn't exactly in the mood to with hold much. "She's Lucy Malfoy."

                Snape was speechless for a moment. "How can that be?" he asked finally. "Miss Malfoy has been dead for nearly four months."

                "Your the Potions Master. I would have thought that you could tell me," Ginny said insolently. She knew she was right—she couldn't explain how, though.

                "Polyjuice Potion?" Snape asked. "How would she have escaped Elena Vassikin. She's a very capable assassin. With all due respect to the dead, I think she was more than capable of handling a fourteen year old who was also paralyzed."

                "She's alive. I don't care if you think this is a joke. If you don't believe me on this point, who's to say you'll believe anything else I say?" Ginny rose to her feet indignantly.

                "Miss Weasley, I'm not finished!" Snape shouted.

                "I am!" Ginny shouted back, slamming the door behind her.

***

                Sirius watched as Madam Pomfrey bustled nervously about the infirmary. He felt Dumbledore's presence beside him. He wondered vaguely if the Headmaster felt the same way Professor Snape did—that this was mostly his error. Sirius felt this way. He could have stopped Arabella. Why hadn't he?

                Madam Pomfrey broke quietly into his reveries, asking for both the professor and him to have a seat in her small office.

                "How is Miss Spencer?" Dumbledore asked. Sirius would have done, if he could find his voice. He was good for nothing more at the moment than taking up space.

                "Oh, don't worry about her. She's resting now," the nurse said in a would-be cheerful tone. "What I wanted to talk to you gentlemen about might sound very alarming. Indeed, I am quite baffled myself as to how she…well, I best just come out with it," Madam Pomfrey hesitated.

                "Maybe you should, Poppy," Dumbledore said patiently.

                Sirius wondered at him with envy. How could he remain so calm?

                "Imogen Spencer is not Imogen Spencer." The elderly witch brushed her hair out of her face nervously and continued explaining to her rapt audience. "The types of anti-curse spells that I use—standard procedure on all cases of unconsciousness—take off any magical effects on the patient's body, whether that be a hex, curse, charm or potion." As she spoke the last word, she looked solemnly at the two of them. "Miss Spencer has been assuming the identity of Miss Spencer since her enrollment here when, in fact, she is someone entirely different."

                "Who do you think she might be then, Poppy?" Dumbledore asked with curiosity.

                Sirius' mind was reeling. Did Arabella know this? Was this her spy? Posing as a Hogwarts student? For what purposes? He was becoming angry. Had she been lying to him the entire time?

                "I was hoping, Headmaster, that you could clarify that point for me. I will need to know for hospital records and all." Madam Pomfrey stood, more composed, and walked to the door.

                Sirius followed her out along with Dumbledore.

                Slowly moving the curtains back, the nurse ushered both of them into a partitioned area where Imogen was sleeping soundly. Only this girl, bruised around the face, was not Imogen as Sirius knew her. Indeed, he recognized the face but not in the girl he now saw. It was Dale's face, but in a smaller, broken body. She looked far more helpless as she lay in that hospital bed, surrounded by hospital gadgets. His breath constricted audibly as the floor seemed to drop from underneath him. How could he have let this happen to Dale's child? To any child?

                "Is this Lucius Malfoy's daughter?" Dumbledore asked, moving forward and adjusting his glasses as if to see her better. He placed a tentative hand on her cool forehead and brushed a matted curl away from her cheek, revealing a livid mark made by a sharp piece of jewelry—perhaps a ring.

                "Lucilla Malfoy," Sirius clarified, finding a seat and dropping heavily into it.

                Madam Pomfrey jotted this down on a piece of parchment and then banished it to her office. She busied herself with fussing over the sleeping girl, adjusting her covers and posing more questions to her two companions. "A student here?"

                "I believe she was enrolled at Beauxbatons. But this intriguing little creature has been dead for months," Dumbledore informed her, his eyes twinkling at this new enigma. 

                Madam Pomfrey, engaged in checking the pulse of one tiny wrist, dropped it immediately at this and stared at the Headmaster. "Dead?" she questioned breathlessly.

                "She was killed, murdered by Elena Vassikin, this summer at Ravenclaw castle." Sirius swallowed hard, "There was a body."

                "Just exactly who's body was it?" Madame Pomfrey asked, scandalized.

                Sirius shrugged and Dumbledore shook his head, perplexed.

                "How is she. Was she badly hurt?" Sirius asked with worry furrowing his brow. He might have been mistaken as a frantic parent if he weren't among people he knew well.

                "She's suffered some broken bones, fractured rib, collar bone, a couple of vertebrae. There was some pretty nasty internal bleeding. But that's stopped. She'll recover physically, but…" the nurse shrugged and favored her patient with a sorrowful glance. "I don't know what sort of state she'll be in mentally when she wakes. She was conscious of a few minutes earlier. She said some awfully curious things though."

                "Such as?" Sirius asked urgently.

                "Well, she mentioned Lucius, her father. And she also said to tell Peter that she is sorry," Madam Pomfrey said with a shrug and turned to leave. "I think she ought to rest in peace for a while. Professor, Mr. Black, thank you for your help."

                She showed them out into the hallway of the infirmary where they were met with a scene they were not expecting.

***

                Arabella figured that Hogwarts would be the place that Imogen would turn up if she refused to come back to the house after her job. She understood the girl's anger with her. But Lucy was no ordinary child—which justified Arabella's treatment of her. She was willful, but capable. She knew the ways of her father better than the best of Arabella's team. She'd already been up against a hardened and dangerous Death Eater Assassin and lived. Arabella was confident in her capabilities. But she was still nervous for her. She was well aware of the girl's father and his attempts to kill her in the past. If she was found out…no! Arabella would not see that possibility yet, not while uncertainty still hung in the air, hopeful uncertainty.

                She saw a girl, red headed and fiery, stomping madly from the lower levels of the school. She recognized her from her days teaching here as Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. She called out to her. "Miss Weasley."

                The girl turned impatiently and said nothing. Recognition dawned on her face, but she didn't seem to be surprised.

                "Do you know where I might find the Headmaster, or Professor Snape?" Arabella asked, approaching the girl.

                "Professor Dumbledore is in the infirmary, I imagine." The girl spoke in harsh and impatient tones, turning up the stairs without a further comment.

                Arabella followed. A wave of foreboding washed over her. Why would the Headmaster be in the infirmary? She doubled her pace, just keeping up with the hassled Weasley girl.

                As they both rounded the corner and came to the infirmary corridor Arabella stopped to stare at a curious figure sitting on the ground and staring out into the space beyond the pristine white walls of the hall. It was Harry and he looked as guilty as Judas and twice as morose. She continued down the corridor and past the stoic Harry, turning only briefly to note the violent way Miss Weasley had removed her cloak and chucked it at the boy on the floor, shouting, "You cruel, unfeeling—," all else was lost as Arabella smacked right into Sirius Black exiting the infirmary in a cloud of dazed confusion.

                Sirius looked on passively as Ginny assaulted Harry on the ground who was in turn motionless and expressionless. Then he focused on Arabella, moments later asking, "What have you done?"

                Ginny left off scolding Harry who seemed not to care one way or the other. She pushed past Sirius and Arabella toward the infirmary doors where she was stopped by Dumbledore.

                "Let me go," she hissed at him.

                In as even a tone as he ever had the Headmaster looked down at her and said, "I'm afraid, Miss Weasley, that she is unfit for visitors right now."

                "I know everything," Ginny said, pushing past the man who would not impede her further and through the doors.

                Harry watched everything that passed before him with immovable features. He slowly took the cloak that Ginny threw spitefully at him and folded it, tucking it under one arm. He stood and watched Arabella and Sirius in whispered conversation.

                He saw Ginny and Dumbledore at the infirmary door. She snapped, "I know everything," and pushed past. Harry wondered briefly what she knew.

                As if things couldn't get any more surreal, a short, thin man in glasses rushed around the corner. Harry recognized the man as one of Sirius' associates, Glenn Corbin.

                He rushed past Harry and straight to Sirius and Arabella. "Grey's got the execution pushed up. Peter has consented. I don't know what you can d…just come!" he said hurriedly.

                Sirius swore and Arabella paled. Both hesitated a moment and then followed Corbin down the corridor and out of the school. Harry shook his head. When had everything stopped looking like life and more resembling an Avant Garde film that he was failing at understanding in the least?

***

                Ginny walked silently into the room and tentatively drew back the curtains. She was met with the face of her guilt. It was Lucy. She was alive.

                Gently, she drew one of Lucy's small hands into her own and kissed it lightly. "I'm so sorry. I know that you have been trying to tell me." She began to cry. "Forgive me for wrapping you up in this. For not noticing it. It's my fault."

                She pulled a chair up to the bed and rested her head on the sheets next to Lucy. She wondered if this girl resembled, in any small way, the one that Draco sat beside and held the hand of when her father had beat her and paralyzed her nearly three years ago. Perhaps the Lucy whose hand Ginny held now was a little stronger, a little more callused by experienced.

                She heard the deep and pained intake of breathing next to her. Lucy stirred. Opening her eyes to find Ginny there, she attempted a small smile.

                "I'm sorry. I didn't know. I was trying to tell them—," Ginny began, tears still streaming down her face as she tried to explain.

                Lucy reached up to dry her friend's tears and said, "You have nothing to be sorry about, Ginny. I had to do this…for a friend…but I failed." Her words were harsh and regretful, "But, I failed. I always fail." She gingerly moved her neck and winced. "Do they all know? Harry?"

                "No, Lucy. Harry doesn't know."

                "Hand me my bracelet," Lucy asked, indicating the silver one with stones of sapphire and emerald. The one Ginny had seen her wear as Imogen, Lucy and Elena. How had she missed that?

                Ginny did so.

                "This is how I did it," Lucy said, removing a pill from her bracelet, under an emerald. She popped it and waited. Minutes later it was Imogen who stared back at her.

                "But, your injuries…" Ginny said.

                Imogen nodded. "They stay with you. Scars do to."

                "That's how you escaped Elena."

                "Yes."

                "But, you…you're…" Ginny began.

                "Paralyzed?" Imogen asked, pushing herself up a little. Ginny helped her, out of habit. She missed helping in the infirmary. She nodded shamefully and didn't look at Imogen.

                "It's my own formula of Polyjuice. I've made it pill form for easier use. It's also a genetic enhancement more than a strict Polyjuice. Imogen never existed. I created her. Specified the genetics myself. She can walk because her spine was never damaged. Lucy's was, but Lucy is different. A different person, really. It's complicated. I'll let you see my notes, if you like."

                "I'm so glad it's you," Ginny said in a whisper, covering her mouth with a hand.

                "Of course it's me, Ginny," she said. Imogen stopped smiling and stared at Ginny who was staring back in disbelief. "What's the matter, Ginny?"

                "Does Draco know?" Ginny asked, already knowing the answer.

                "I'll tell him eventually," Imogen said with a guilty frown. "He has other things to deal with at the moment."

                "And Harry?" Ginny asked.

                "No, I can't tell him yet." Imogen bit her lip. "Could I see him?"

                "Yes, of course," Ginny said, rising to get him for her. She left immediately, her ill feelings toward him fading a little as relief replaced them.

                She stepped out into the corridor where Harry was once again alone. "She wants to see you," Ginny said.

                Harry said nothing but rose from his spot on the ground, handing Ginny's cloak back to her. An unspoken agreement passed between them in which Harry admitted to being an unforgiving prat and Ginny apologized for taking out the stress of the situation on him.

                Taking the cloak, Ginny pulled Harry into an embrace that spoke all of this without words.

                Harry smiled and went in to see Imogen. Ginny yawned and dragged her tired body up to Gryffindor Tower where she would try to sleep unsuccessfully.

***

                There was a team of Hit Wizards surrounding the cell, decked out in the typically unnecessary gear of their kind. Each was packing a wand with enough specialized hexes to finish of the whole of the island in seconds and a Muggle automatic sidearm. Minister Grey stood in the midst of these thugs with a smile of pleasure on his face.

                Sirius and Arabella arrived in time to witness the last rights.

                "What is going on here?" Sirius challenged, moving toward Grey menacingly. Two Hit Wizards blocked his progress deftly.

                "He asked for his execution to be moved up and we obliged." Grey crossed his arms in front of him with a satisfied air.

                "He cannot do that without going through the proper channels," Sirius said.

                Arabella was silent behind him.

                "We thought we might make an exception in his case," Dorothy Fudge chimed in from behind them. He turned to face her and glared. He might have known that it was she who had organized this.

                "No. He's not dying today!" Sirius said. He could make no sense of his thoughts. Everything logical was fast slipping through his grasp.

                "I am, Sirius," Peter said decidedly.

                Sirius and Arabella turned astonished glances on him. "James wouldn't want you to die, Remus wouldn't," Sirius admitted. He doubted that he'd ever said this to Peter. But it was the truth. There had been too much killing, too much dying. It would end today if Sirius had his way.

                "Did anyone care about my husband's wishes?" Dorothy asked in a stern voice.

                "Did he care about anyone? You know the answer to that, Dorothy. Everything was second to his precious publicity." Sirius favored her with a cold stare.

                She made no reply, but spoke instead to one of the Hit Wizards nearest Peter. "Bind him. Let's get this over with."

                "No!" Sirius said, moving through the opened door of the cell. The Hit Wizard had begun to bind him but stopped, holding him securely by one arm—the silver handed one.

                "Sirius, don't make a scene. That little girl saved me. And she's alive. I can die with one person in the world who believes in my innocence. I'm not afraid to die anymore," Peter explained with a frightening light in his eyes. It was a light of hope, but seemed odd and out of place in those cold dull eyes.

                "You cannot leave me!" Arabella called out.

                Peter favored her with an understanding smile. He turned to Sirius and with eerie calm continued, "Please take care of her for me. Tell Harry that I'm sorry. He won't accept it, I know. But tell him anyway. Goodbye, Sirius." He made one sharp move that the Hit Wizard holding his arm had not expected. He reached for the gun at his hip and put it to his head.

                Before the other Hit Wizards could draw their wands and before Sirius could shout for Peter not to do this, he heard the click of the safety and then Peter pulled the trigger.

                As if in gruesome slow motion, Sirius saw it all. Arabella's horrified screams rung in his ears as Peter slowly fell to the floor of his cell.

                And it was over as quick as that.

***

                Harry came in and visibly shuddered as he saw the wounds of Imogen's face. He sat beside her, looking very guilty. The two of them did not speak. Harry didn't know what to say after all of this. The last words he spoke to her rung in his ears. He cringed at his coldness.

                She didn't know what to say. She couldn't explain this. She didn't want to lie…and she wouldn't. If she couldn't tell the truth, then she wouldn't say anything. She still had no voice left after witnessing the things she had. How could she explain that? Human speech could only express what the mind could hold. She still wasn't able to bend her mind around what her father had shown her.

                Harry watched as her eyes began to brim with tears. He felt helpless. He could do nothing—say nothing. He could only hold her hand and sit with her. But if it was all he could do, he would do it.

                Harry's eyes wandered to the window that was fast covering with snow. The first vestiges of dawn peeked over the mountains at the limits of his vision. Look at that, he thought, it's almost dawn. And he thought that the sun would not even want to rise today. He was happy to be wrong.

***

                Sirius left Arabella with Snape who met them at the entrance of the school. She had been hysterical the entire way. Sirius was worried about her but numbed further into not caring by what he had just witnessed. The last of his best of friends, lifetime friends, had just taken his own life after taking the lives of the other two. He was all that was left of their band of brothers. He didn't deserve to be the survivor. James deserved to see his son grow up, Remus deserved much more than this cruel world ever allowed him, Peter…well, Peter deserved everything he got. But Sirius couldn't help but wishing that it could have all turned out differently.

                It was Christmas morning. They spent it this way every year, opening presents in their room. Later there would be a large snow fight in which Peter and Remus would be completely annihilated as usual.

                Sirius was ripping through his packages with the zeal of a healthily selfish boy. James had given him a Puddlemere United shirt and Remus had given him an entire collection of Dickens. As he ripped through the last of the packages, Peter looked on with growing impatience. "Come on! Just rip through it. You open presents like a girl, Sirius!" he had shouted.

                Sirius tore through the paper with a satisfying rip. He looked down, astonished by Peter's gift. James and Remus had been opening the same gift from Peter. All three of them paused and stared at him with open mouths. Inside of the small box was a ring. James and Remus had had similar gifts.

                Peter was still smiling like a fool. "Well?"

                "Well…" Sirius said, shaking his head with disbelief, "It's wonderful, Peter."

                As he pulled it out of the cotton wool, Sirius noticed that it had a "P" inscribed on it.

                "It's got the initial of each of our names inscribed on them—," Peter explained excitedly.

                James interrupted, favoring his with a scrutinizing glare, "Er, Peter…I know you're not the sharpest tack on the board and all, but you know that James starts with a "J" and not a "P", don't you?"

                Peter blushed and looked down at his knees.

                "No, James. "P" is for Prongs," Remus said evenly, admiring his own ring.

                "Don't lose them. As long as we each have our rings, we'll be friends forever," Peter continued proudly, "I have one too."

                "Wow! Peter, that's great!" Remus said. "But, it's too much. We couldn't…it must've taken you months of mop duty at the Owl Post to get these." Remus favored him with an appreciative smile. Peter beamed.

                "Two and a half exactly," he admitted.

                "Peter, this is just about the best gift I ever got!" Sirius said, slipping his on and admiring it.

                "You don't really believe that these rings are what will hold our friendship together, do you?" James asked incredulously, setting his aside and turning to the other packages left to open on his bed.

                "That's what the man at the charms store told me when I bought them," Peter said, unaffected by the skepticism.

                "It's great. Thanks, Peter," Sirius said, covering for James' ungratefulness. Didn't he realize how hard Peter had worked to give this to him? It was definitely better than a shirt. It meant quite a lot more, as well.

                Sirius twirled the ring unconsciously around his finger. He had thought many times about getting rid of it. It obviously worked just a well as James thought it would. He had been the first to lose his. He had been drunk at his bachelor's party and let it slip down a storm drain. He had spent painstaking effort in covering for Peter's sake.

                He hadn't known as Sirius had that Peter realized that same night that it was missing.

                Sirius was sure it would be the hardest thing to part with now, this ring.

                He took a deep breath and entered the infirmary. This would be just as hard. He had no idea what kind of a relationship Lucy'd had with Peter, but it had changed him. He thought she ought to hear about his death from him, though he had no idea how to tell her. How would he tell Harry?

                They were both sitting there when he entered. Two pairs of eyes stared at him expectantly. One pair of green eyes and another of deep blue—Imogen. She hadn't told Harry, he assumed.

                "Where have you been?" Harry asked as Sirius stood solemnly at the foot of the bed.

                He looked from Harry, strong and certainly able to handle what he had to say, to Imogen who, thought weakened for the moment, possessed reserves of strength that Sirius envied. He didn't need to say anything in that moment.

                Her face told him that she knew. And though she swore she would never cry again, she had also held out hope that Peter would make it out. It was gone now. She knew she had failed him. He was dead.

                She blinked back tears and nodded in resignation, sinking down into her covers silently, pulling them over her head. She needed to hide out for a while. As she was in no condition to move, under the covers would have to suffice.