A/N: Sorry about the long delay, but life is busy. I've been told that the last chapter was redundant because Ginny has already been tortured. However, I felt that I would be short-changing Ginny and readers for later on if I wasn't thorough with the process of breaking Ginny down. However, I can tell you that the "procedure" will no longer be covered.

And here they are, the Weasley Twins!

Chapter Eight

"Really Rank Rain"

Riding the moving, spiral staircase, Harry felt himself grow sicker and sicker with dread. Behind him Ron and Hermione had clasped hands. Harry glanced down at his own. He had held Ginny's hand before. It had felt so small but so right in his. Her fingertips were usually stained from ink blots that she had forgotten to charm off.

His hands felt so empty.

The steps came to a stop on the landing. Harry shoved his hands nervously in his pockets and stepped off. He heard the soft sound of a kiss behind him. For a moment he couldn't breathe, and then he felt his friends press in behind him.

"Are you okay, Harry?" asked Hermione softly, touching his shoulder.

"No." Harry kept his gaze fastened on the door, and then raised his fist and knocked. After two seconds, it swung open slightly to admit them. Harry took a deep breath. Delaying wasn't going to change what had already happened. He couldn't save himself from it.

Swiftly, Harry stepped into Professor Dumbledore's office, barely aware of Ron and Hermione hurrying in after them. He felt dreamlike, as if nothing was really happening.

"Fred! George!"

Harry felt someone shove past him, and suddenly Ron was rushing towards two wild blurs of red. Staring stupidly, Harry slowly recognized Fred and George Weasley, who were very busy ruffling Ron's hair and causing the youngest Weasley boy to flush with happiness and embarrassment.

"Sirius! You're back already!" Hermione was beside herself, clasping her hands as her eyes danced back and forth from the Weasley twins to Sirius. "Surely . . . surely this is good news, right?"

Professor Dumbledore gestured with a sweep of his arm for everyone to take a seat. "Possibly, Hermione. I cannot say definitely what condition Ginny is in, but I know she is alive."

"We're going to get her back, Ron!" said Fred eagerly, pushing Ron into a chair between him and George.

Harry was the last left standing until Hermione tugged on his sleeve. He still couldn't get over seeing the twins again, and it truly was seeing them again. Over the last two years their mischievous, identical grins had been less free and wide. They looked as if they had invented something spectacularly dangerous and clever again. Harry's heart lifted.

"How?" demanded Ron, nearly jumping out of his chair. "How are you going to get into Malfoy Manor? Did you finally figure it out? What are we—"

"Ron! Be quiet so they can tell us!" hissed Hermione, but she looked just as eager.

"Thank you, Hermione," said Dumbledore, smiling as he bowed his head to her. He folded his hands on his desk and leveled everyone with his light blue stare. Harry thought he could detect a hint of a twinkle somewhere in the serious gaze, but he might have been imagining it. "Early this morning I was awoken very urgently by Fawkes—"

Harry suddenly realized the fiery feathered phoenix had returned to his perch behind Dumbledore. Fawkes' head was cocked to the side, as if listening very intently to what the headmaster was saying—which, Harry knew, he probably understood perfectly—but then the bird turned his graceful neck towards the twins, ruffling his feathers, perhaps recalling the early morning disturbance. Harry's mouth twitched, and again he wondered what other powers Fawkes contained.

"We're sorry to have disturbed you, Professor," said George quickly, but not at all sounding too contrite.

Dumbledore smiled at George. "I welcome every morning that begins in such a manner, Mr. Weasley."

"So, what is it?" asked Ron impatiently.

Fred and George glanced eagerly at Dumbledore, who nodded graciously. "We've found a way to break into Malfoy Manor!" they cried together.

"It's so simple!" began George.

"But all genius is seemingly simple, once you've discovered it, but it really takes someone with incredible brains to figure it out—" added Fred, nearly jumping out of his chair as he gripped Ron's forearm.

"Mind you, once you discover it, then you have to spend endless hours devising and designing and configuring and conjecturing—"

"But we had no problem with that, because we're—"

"Geniuses," they said together.

A pause followed this proclamation of ingenuity, and then Hermione said with barely contained exasperation. "Then what is it?"

"Really Rank Rain!"

Another pause. Harry stared at the twins, and then glanced at Dumbledore for help. The headmaster was beaming, his eyes averted to the ceiling, his long fingers pressed in a steeple. Looking to Sirius, Harry detected a note of mischievous admiration from his godfather.

"Really Rank Rain?" said Harry, hoping he didn't sound too skeptical or confused.

"It sounds like one of your Wheezes," Ron said slowly, as if trying not to sound insulting.

The twins simultaneously let their eyes roll slowly around, exaggerating to let everyone know how slow their younger brother was. "Yes, little ones," said Fred, sounding remarkably like a professor. He stood up and strode over to Hermione, casually draping his arm around her shoulders, smiling in a patronizing way.

"Remember back in your fifth year, Little Miss Prefect?" Fred inquired sweetly as Hermione swiveled around and pursed her lips at him. "When we distracted you from studying for your O.W.L.s by attacking you with Dungbombs?"

"Yes, I remember," Hermione huffed irritably, as if it had just been yesterday. "I couldn't concentrate on anything until at least midnight, when that stench began to wear off."

Harry thought that Fred had never looked prouder, but he couldn't see what annoying Hermione had to do with saving Ginny. What were they going to do, throw Dungbombs at Malfoy Manor to annoy Voldemort? It would just be like Fred and George Weasley to do something like that.

Ron voiced exactly what Harry had been thinking, and beside him, George gave a long-suffering sigh. "Honestly, little brother, you have no faith in us! Throwing Dungbombs is illogical, not to mention impractical. We need to cover a bigger area than the Gryffindor common room. As the Malfoys have always regaled us with tales of their fortune, I'm sure it's a decent plot of land."

"And Padfoot has the blueprints," said Fred. He grinned widely. "His own, specialized blueprints."

Sirius rolled his eyes at the obvious hero-worship in Fred's eyes. Harry could still remember how ecstatic the twins had been when he'd told them who Padfoot, Moony, Wormtail, and Prongs were. Of course, they had been furious about Wormtail, once they'd gotten over the elation of having a Marauder in their house.

"So this Really Rank Rain," said Hermione slowly, "is just Dungbombs in another form?"

"You make it sound so quaint," huffed Fred indignantly, tugging one of her curls. "Think, Hermione. Can't you remember what it was like with us to help you study?"

Hermione muttered something very low under her breath, which made Fred grin broadly and tug her hair again. Then she said for everyone else, "Obviously, I was so distracted that I couldn't concentrate. All I could think about was that smell, not even about what I was going to do when I could use magic on you two!"

Fred and George cackled. George said, "Very astute observation, Head Girl. You see, while we were studying the curses and maps of Malfoy Manor, my very intelligent brother—though he's not nearly as geniusque as myself—and I realized that since we couldn't penetrate or break the curses surrounding the git's—sorry, Professor—Malfoy's house, we would have to distract them."

"Magic can be distracted by smell?" Harry couldn't believe it.

"If it's a very potent, magical smell," Fred confirmed. Harry looked to Dumbledore for confirmation, and he found the headmaster still beaming amusedly, as if he thought all of this very clever. "You see, the curses on Malfoy Manor were designed to block physical and magical opponents. Rain is physical, and it also coats everything it touches and effects it in some way. It'll be hit everywhere by the rain, and as it becomes drenched, it'll absorb it, along with the magical components. So, it'll be battling both physical and magical elements from within and without."

"Since it's not dark or light magic," continued George, copying Fred's teaching tone, "the barriers cannot be strengthened. It'll be confused, and thus, diffused. In that time, we can break the barriers and enter the manor with relative safety and ease."

"What about the Death Eaters inside?" Hermione asked, a look of amazement on her face.

"Oh, that's easy. They'll be just like you. Overpowered and distracted by the rank aroma we've coated everything in," said Fred. He waggled his eyebrows. "We are very thorough with our inventions and plans, Hermione."

Hermione pursed her lips again, clearly caught between annoyance and respect. "But what about the Order? They'll be just as distracted."

"Rain slickers, galoshes, masks heavily scented with lovely perfumes," George ticked off on his fingers. "We'll be fully capable for catching Death Eaters and rescuing Ginny while our noses think we're in a valley of lilies."

Hermione's eyes bounced from Fred to George before she gave a sigh. "You two really are mad."

Fred gave her hair another affectionate tug. "You ever had any doubt?"

~*~*~

Ron's stomach was tight and empty. He felt light-headed and heavy-footed. The past two hours had flown past in a blur of Fred and George's exclamations, Hermione's quiet, inquisitive comments, and Harry's silence. Dumbledore and Sirius seemed to be very calm and in control, but there was an energy running swiftly between them as they discussed the plans of Really Rank Rain with Fred and George, their wands moving from point to point on the manor diagrams. Apparently the twins had been working on this concept since the summer, but had not spoken a word. They'd always preferred their inventions to remain hidden and unimagined until they were ready to wreck havoc on their victims.

It worried Ron. He had always loved the twins' Weasley Wizard Wheezes, but to use something only slightly more sophisticated than Dungbombs to save their sister? Ron wasn't sure if he was willing to risk it. If it wasn't for the fact it was Ginny trapped behind the dark stone walls, Ron would have suggested more time for a better plan.

And who was to say it wouldn't work? When had the twins ever been so serious about their inventions? Ginny was their sister as much as Ron's, and he knew they were as sick with worry and fear as he was. Not even the twins would risk Ginny to try a silly prank. They believed it would work, so he had to as well.

"Drizzle can handle the Precipitation Spell," Fred was saying at one point. "Besides, it's fitting for her alias."

Ron exchanged a look with Harry and Hermione. It surprised him that Dumbledore hadn't shooed them out of the office yet, and he was growing more curious as he heard certain codenames for other members of the Order. Voldemort operated in a form of secrecy, so no one but him knew who everyone was or what was being planned. The Order of the Phoenix had taken much the same precaution, except to a less severe extent. Although he did want to eliminate the consequences of spies, Dumbledore did not want competition for the inner circle that existed in Voldemort's structure.

Ron was beginning to wonder what part he would play in the rescue mission. After all, he, Harry, and Hermione had all been an active part of the Order in the past two years. Most of the time it had not been a sanctioned role, but Ron always had the impression that Dumbledore had figured it all into his plans.

Would the headmaster allow them to breach Malfoy Manor, or would they be ordered to stay behind?

"Professor Dumbledore," Harry said suddenly, as if reading Ron's mind, "what—what are we to do?"

The tall wizard lifted his long nose from the map on his desk. "I know how very badly you each feel you need to be part of this," Dumbledore said gently but firmly. "However, I must ask you to remain here at Hogwarts. Harry, it is not time for you to face Voldemort, especially with Ginny in his captive."

Something in Dumbledore's voice made Ron shiver. Was it possible Ginny would be used against Harry? The sudden image of Ginny raising her wand to Harry, her eyes vacant and her face blank, caused Ron's stomach to retch violently. Sucking in a breath, he clutched his stomach, fighting the urge to be sick.

"I know it will be very stressing for you three," Dumbledore continued. Ron could feel the understanding gaze on him, but he couldn't look up as he stared down at the floor. "Therefore, I will keep you as informed as possible."

"Yes, sir," mumbled Harry and Hermione. Ron could only nod.

"Now, I believe it is supper. Professor McGonagall will speak with you in the morning. Good night."

~*~*~

"And we never did ask him about the book!" Ron exclaimed as he pushed his food around his plate. The roast beef had long gone cold.

"I know," Hermione sighed wearily, her Arithmancy homework spread out beside her plate. She'd only eaten her potatoes. "We can ask him tomorrow, maybe."

"He's not talking to us tomorrow, remember? McGonagall is."

Hermione paused in her formula problem to smile slightly at Ron. Usually it was she who made the correct observations.

"I bet Dumbledore attacks Malfoy Manor tomorrow. I mean, why else would he not talk to us?" Ron continued, poking fork holes through his meat.

Hermione didn't respond. She felt just as lost as Ron, and just as angry. It seemed pointless to even try to be objective about Draco Malfoy's knowledge of Ginny's kidnapping. The Great Hall was absent of his sneer, and Crabbe and Goyle appeared close to fits for going a whole day without him. Ginny had been gone for two days now, and Hermione suddenly wondered how she, Ron, and Harry looked to everyone else. No one had really approached them, not even to offer their consolation and pity.

"I think it's the Murus Charm," Harry said suddenly, jerking Hermione from her musings. He'd had his nose buried in Ancient Spells for Modern Magic. "It just seems to fit."

Hermione brought the book over to her side of the table, stealing a glance at Harry as she did so. His jawline was tense, but otherwise she couldn't tell what he was thinking. He pushed his glasses up his nose and leaned forward, waiting for her confirmation. Obediently, Hermione reread the text on the Murus Charm for the fourth time. It did seem to fit. But what was the partner spell?

"Did you find anything else in there to go with this?" she asked Harry hopefully.

Harry shook his head, taking the book back. Ignoring his untouched supper, he returned to scanning the pages for an answer.

Hermione refrained from sighing. She had to finish her Arithmancy for tomorrow, but for once the formulas and equations were giving her a headache. Nothing seemed to make sense, although she knew she could have solved these problems any other time with reasonable ease. Finally, she slammed her book shut.

"Let's go back to the library and have a look at that book."

"But it'll be closed by now," said Ron, holding up his watch and pointing at the time. It was after nine-thirty and the Great Hall was almost empty. "I don't think Harry's cloak will fit over all of us," he added, eyebrows jumping in realization when he saw the look on Hermione's face.

Hermione smiled grimly. "I have patrol duty tonight."

~*~*~

Under the magical silvery cloak, Harry and Ron found Death Do Part exactly where they had left it. Harry refused to touch the book, feeling sick as Ron pulled it down off the shelf. Together they folded their legs under them, sitting close together on the floor, the Invisibility Cloak draped around them.

"Lumos," whispered Harry, holding his wand over the book. The velvet black cover seemed to suck in all the light from his wand tip, and the green lettering of the title flashed eerily at Harry.

"Okay," breathed Ron, gingerly opening the book. "What should I look for? I mean, this is a big book all about one subject . . ." He looked across at Harry uncertainly. "I wish Hermione was here. She'd know what to look for."

Harry frowned, thinking hard. They wanted to know what methods Voldemort might use to reach immortality, especially anything that involved other people being used in the process. The only close method that Harry knew of was using unicorn's blood, but Voldemort had already done it, and it didn't involve Ginny. "See if there's anything about, oh I don't, reincarnation? I mean, I guess you could look at Riddle's diary being sort of like that."

"Oh yeah, like how he preserved himself!" exclaimed Ron. A book on the shelf muttered grumpily to itself, and Ron quickly hushed. "Yeah, that'd be like preserving youth, right? It didn't matter that the diary was fifty years old, so as long as someone was there to, er, write in it."

Harry nodded fervently, feeling distinctly cold under the stuffy confines of the cloak. As Ron began searching through the book, the pages crackling with each turn, Harry gazed into the darkness of the library. He remembered his first trip here under the Invisibility Cloak, how he had inadvertently discovered the Mirror of Erised and seen his parents for the first time since he could remember. If he looked into the mirror now, what would he see? Ginny, unharmed, in his arms.

Harry dug a fist into his thigh, trying to suppress his urge to cry out. Last night he had seen and felt Ginny's pain. Would he feel it again tonight? Or would he be dealt Voldemort's anger? Both sensations were extremely painful and disturbing, but Harry would take the Dark Lord's wrath over what he'd felt last night. But if he's angry, he'll probably take it out on Ginny, he thought, gritting his teeth. If he's angry, that means Ginny isn't doing what he wants—whatever it is—but then he'll doing something worse!

"Wow," muttered Ron, turning another page. "'Mazing how many wizards killed themselves trying to become immortal. You'd think they'd just all learn alchemy."

Harry stared at the top of Ron's bent head. Why hadn't Voldemort ever tried to make a Philosopher's Stone? Or had he, but failed? Not since the end of his first year had Harry wondered about Nicholas Flamel and the small stone that brought him face to face with Voldemort for the second time. Where was he? Was he even still alive? Had Dumbledore arranged for the alchemist's safe hiding, to keep Voldemort from trying to pry another Stone from the wizard's skilled hands?

There was so much Harry wanted to ask Dumbledore, but it seemed he never had the chance. Always there was something more pressing to be taken care of, something immediate and vital. Over the past few years many questions had been answered, but the answered only brought more questions. It was exhausting.

"Have you found anything yet?" Harry asked in a low whisper, needing a distraction.

Ron gave his head a shake. "Oh yeah, loads of stuff, if I'm ever barmy enough to try this stuff! You think the Polyjuice Potion was bad . . . You know what? I think death would be preferable to some of this. You have to be a complete nutter . . ."

"I wouldn't exactly call Voldemort normal or sane," Harry muttered darkly.

Ron nodded silently, his face pale in the glow from Harry's wand. "You know . . . I don't like reading this. This is really Dark Arts stuff. What's it doing at Hogwarts? It's even too dark for the Restricted Section."

"Maybe a teacher brought it," suggested Harry, gazing dubiously at the opened book. A very graphic, detailed illustration of a wizard attempting to replace his heart with that of a pig glared at him on the left page, while the right explained the theory and procedure and why it failed. He wanted to be sick.

"Hate to be in that one's class, then," said Ron, turning the page with a shudder.

"There must be something in there," Harry said, shifting uncomfortably. His wandlight jumped with the movement, making the illustrations seem all the more real. "I mean, where else would have Riddle gotten the idea for the diary? Or Voldemort using that potion?"

"You mean the one he used your blood in?" gulped Ron, looking even paler than before. His hand shook as he turned another page. "Blimey!"

Harry gave a shout as the book shot from Ron's lap into his; Ron jumped back so fast that he tumbled out from under the Invisibility Cloak. Harry felt a jolt of pain in his scar, but it was gone in an instant. Shoving the book onto the floor, Harry hurried over to Ron, panting with surprise.

"Ron? What happened?"

Ron had righted himself, but Harry couldn't see his face in the dark. His wand was lost under the book. "Who in their right mind would illustrate that?" Ron croaked in disbelief and horror, gesturing toward Death Do Part, which was face down.

"What was it?"

"Oh nothing really," Ron spat, "just total and complete mutilation of someone. Being eaten. Alive."

Harry felt bile rise in his throat. "Eaten? Alive?!"

"Yeah." Ron moved in the darkness past Harry. There was the rustling of the Invisibility Cloak being picked up and the book being turned over. Ron made an odd sort of sound as Harry's glowing wand illuminated the contents of the book. Harry saw the revolted, horror-struck look on Ron's face before his friend slammed the book shut and returned it to the shelf. "I've had enough of this for one night."

Twenty minutes later, they were safely back in Gryffindor Tower, but neither could sleep. Harry lay awake listening to Ron toss and turn, obviously unsettled by what he'd seen and read in the velvety black book. Harry's scar burst into pain in quick succession, then at seemingly random intervals, and finally not at all. It wasn't until the gray hours of morning, when the darkness of the dormitory began to lift, that Ron finally settled down. Harry rolled over and felt his eyes finally close.