*slap, slap* I am a very bad girl, I know. For some reason, this chapter took a long time to work itself out. If I have a muse, she's mad at me.
Just a quick recap . . .
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Harry Potter, she said quietly. There's some things that you've figured out on your own, and you've done a great job with them. This is too big for you to handle by yourself. Tell me what happened.
He sighed, and began talking reluctantly.
When he was done, Hermione's eyes were big. Oh, Harry, she said quietly. I'm so sorry. And here I'm getting mad at you just because you didn't tell me something. He nodded, his arms folded across his chest.
What are we going to do? she asked after a moment.
Harry said blankly. We can't do anything. She hates me now.
We can't just give up! Hermione insisted. You've never given up on anything in your life. Don't start now!
Yeah I have. When I was seven, Dudley--
Hermione began. I think that we should start by--
She was interrupted by a strangled noise from Harry. His eyes were wide, staring at something . . . or someone. She whirled around to see Ginny standing frozen in the doorway to the library, her normally pale skin as white as a sheet. Her eyes were locked on Harry's, and her face was twisted in an expression of horror. Her gaze flickered briefly to Hermione, then, with tears beginning to stream down her face, she turned and fled.
Oh no, Harry groaned, beginning to rise from his seat. I have to go find her. I have to tell her it's not what it looks like. Hermione grabbed his arm.
she said firmly. We have to do this right. This is not the sort of thing that we can just go rushing into. Sit down, and we'll think of something.
I guess you're right, he agreed, sitting down. He began flipping through the book again.
Hermione said, after staring at him for a moment. What on earth are you doing?
Oh, this? Harry said, motioning at the book. It's for my Transfiguration essay. You know, the one on Animagi?
I know about the essay, Hermione said witheringly. I used the same book. About three weeks ago, too. I meant, why are you looking in there?
For information for my essay, Harry said slowly, as if talking to a two-year old.
Hermione said, becoming very exasperated. Why are you doing that now? Aren't we supposed to be thinking about the Ginny situation?
I don't want to think about that, Harry said, flipping pages. It makes my head hurt.
You have to do something, Hermione told him. It's not going to go away if you ignore it.
I know, Harry said, looking at her. You know what, Hermione? I know that! I really do!
Hermione said. I think I'll go see what Ron's up to.
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Deep in the Dark Forest, a meeting was going on. A group of six black-robed figures stood silently in a circle, waiting. A chilly breeze whispered through, swirling the leaves on the forest floor, but they were still silent. There was a sudden POP! and another figure appeared in their midst.
It is working, he said in a voice as cold as the wind. The plan will not fail this time. With Voldemort out of the way, and me as your leader, we can finally begin to do things right. The six fell to their knees, muttering their devotion to the new Dark Lord.
Get up, he spat, and they hurriedly obeyed. We will not have slaves. We will be companions in our pursuit. We will listen to each other. We will take each others advice. But . . . He paused. If it comes down to it, it is me that you will obey. The others hesitated, somewhat unsure, but slowly they began talking and opening up, something they had never been able to do before.
The leader stood silently in the middle of the circle, watching with a cold smile on his face. It willbe so much easier this time, he thought. They will be much more willing to do my every command if we seem as equals. I will not fail.
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Are you sure about this? Harry asked Hermione as she steered him up to the common room.
she assured him. Chocolate frog, she said to the Fat Lady, who promptly swung open.
I can't do this! She'll think I've gone completely crazy, Harry whispered, refusing to go in.
Honestly, Harry, Hermione grunted, trying to shove him through the portrait hole. Do you want her back or not?
Are you going in? the Fat Lady asked grumpily. Don't tell me you woke me up for nothing!
We're . . . going . . . in . . . Hermione said between grunts. Right . . . now . . . or not . . . Harry, come on! He grudgingly stepped through the hole, with Hermione right behind him. He froze at the sight of Ginny curled up in an armchair near the fireplace, a huge book in her lap. Hermione gave him another shove, and ducked behind a different chair. Harry gave her an exasperated glance, and slowly started in Ginny's direction.
He stopped again, wondering how one person could hold so much beauty. The firelight cast dancing patterns of reds and golds in her long hair, spilled across her shoulders. Her face was whiter that usual, making the delicate sprinkling of freckles across her nose stand out. Her large eyes were red from crying, but still deep and lovely. Harry took a deep breath, and walked straight towards her.
His voice came out tentatively, not confident as he had hoped. She jumped and darted a glance at him, but quickly looked away. Ginny, I wanted to tell you . . . I'm so sorry for everything. None of this is what it appears. He gave a sad smile, and walked past and up the stairs to his dormitory. From her position behind the chair, Hermione watched Ginny's eyes follow Harry's back until he disappeared around the corner. Ginny swiped at her eyes, and focused her attention on her book again. Hermione quietly moved through the common room, and dashed up the stairs to the girls' dormitories. She eased open the door to Ginny's room, and peered inside. Empty.
She crept across the room, reaching inside her robes, and pulling out a folded piece of parchment. She placed it carefully on Ginny's pillow, and hurriedly left.
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Ginny was exhausted. She had to study for a Transfiguration quiz, but she was just too tired to concentrate. She closed the book that was resting in her lap, and leaned her head against the back of the armchair.
None of this is what it appears? she murmured, wondering what Harry had meant. I hate him. But I can't hate him! I love him . . . but I hate him. I hate this situation, she groaned. I need to go to sleep. She stood up, picked up the book with a sigh, and headed upstairs to her room. The others were already asleep. She tiptoed across the room in the dark, and lit a small candle on her bedside table. She fell into her bed, and heard a crackling of parchment as her head hit the pillow.
Who on earth . . .? she wondered, unfolding the note, which was now slightly crumpled. She began to read.
Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,
Having some business, do entreat her eyes
To twinkle in their spheres till they return.
What if her eyes were there, they in her head?
The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars,
As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven
Would through the airy region stream so bright
That birds would sing and think it were not night.
-Romeo and Juliet, Act II
William Shakespeare
Ginny sank back into her pillow, her eyes fixed on the parchment. It was beautiful writing, if a bit hard to understand. Who is this from? she wondered. Is this supposed to be about me? Who's William Shakespeare? She fell silent as someone in the room turned over in their sleep. I have so many questions! she thought frantically. I need to talk to someone.
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She woke early the next morning. A yawn split her face, and she stretched out her arms, brushing something off of her bedside table. The note! she remembered, and reached down for it. The thought that had been resurfacing in her mind all during the night triggered something in her memory, and she scrambled to her trunk at the end of her bed. Digging through it, she tossed clothes and books onto the bed, and finally found her old Muggle Studies book. She flipped it open to the index, and ran a finger down the words.
There! Shakespeare, William. Page 235. She turned the pages, found 235, and began reading:
William Shakespeare was a Muggle writer who lived in the late sixteen-century and early seventeen-century. He wrote many plays and poems, in a style of writing called Old English. Some of his more famous plays are A Midsummer Night's Dream, The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, and The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet. For more on those three plays, see the index at the back of the book.
Ginny muttered, and flipped back to the index. Romeo and Juliet. Page 236. Stupid book! She found page 236, and read:
The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet is a sixteenth-century play written by William Shakespeare. It is about two families, the Montagues and the Capulets, who hate each other. Romeo Montague and Juliet Capulet meet at a party and fall in love. They are secretly married, then Romeo is banished for killing Juliet's cousin. Juliet becomes engaged to the wealthy Count Paris, and must fake her death to be with Romeo again. Messages fail to be passed along, and Romeo thinks that she is really dead. He goes to her tomb to see her one last time, and then kills himself. Juliet wakes to find her dead husband, and kills herself in anguish.
I want to read this! Ginny whispered to herself. It sounds like a fantastic story! But how do I get hold of a Muggle book? A sudden idea hit her, and she began scribbling a note on the back of the one she had received.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Harry was sitting at a table in the common room later that day when Hermione rushed up to him.
she exclaimed, sitting next to him. She left a note! I went to deliver the new one, and this was there on her pillow!
Let me see, Harry said immediately. He ripped it open, and scanned Ginny's neat handwriting.
To my mysterious admirer:
If the comments about the starry eyes were for me, thank you. That was the most beautiful thing I've ever read. Do you think it would be possible for me to get a copy of Romeo and Juliet? Thank you so much. Oh, and who are you? This is going to drive me crazy until you tell me.
Ginny
Harry looked up at Hermione, his mouth open. he finally said. She understood it. I needed all the footnotes and everything. But I'm not telling her that it's me yet . . . right?
Hermione agreed. First we have to warm her up towards you again, and prove that Malfoy is plotting something . . . although we don't know what yet. Then you tell her.
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