I stood and walked in a panicked but surprisingly quiet fashion further into the garden in hopes of escape. No wonder he left. He must have heard. Stupid git could have at least warned me.
I hid behind a tree. A really skinny one that didn't hide me at all. But since there wasn't much light left outside, the probability of the teacher seeing me was slim. I hoped.
Soon, I saw Professor McGonagall step into the clearing followed by Professor Snape. What an odd combination of teachers to look for students out past curfew.
Alright, McGonagall, talk, Professor Snape demanded when they were almost in the center of the clearing.
McGonagall replied sharply and then continued with a huff. The Headmaster needs to speak to Mr. Malfoy about the information he provided. He was so busy today with dealing with that idiot Fudge and his employees that this is the first time he was free without the risk of interruption.
Snape nodded in understanding. And you're going to get Ms. Weasley?
My eyes widened. Ms. Weasley? Me? What do I have to do with -
Yes, I was on my way to the Common Room when I realized I needed to speak to you. It's where I'm going next -
Gods, I better get moving if I want to beat McGonagall to the Common Room. Oh no, I can't get out of here until they leave! Luckily, then my Transfigurations teacher continued talking.
- After I see to that disturbance in the East wing. Snape nodded again, and they parted ways. I stared in shock at my good luck before remembering that I still had to get to the Common Room. Still I hesitated for a moment to thank whoever it was up there that liked me. With that, I slipped back inside the castle and ran to the Fat Lady portrait.
I didn't exactly shout the password at her but certainly wasn't very polite about waking her up either. I must remember to apologize later. When I was inside, I saw a few students sitting on some of the chairs and sighed in relief. I looked over and noticed that Hermione and Ron were playing chess. Pretending to watch the game would be the perfect situation to be found in by the professor.
I grabbed a chair and sat down to watch. Hermione turned her eyes to me and smiled while Ron put all his energy in finding a perfect move. When he found it and declared checkmate, he looked up and saw me for the first time. Hey Gin. I didn't see you there.I noticed, I mused. I watched as his cheeks became slightly pinker. As was the way of the Weasley.
So Ginny, where were - Hermione was interrupted when Prof. McGonagall came through the portrait. She stopped for a moment until she spotted me and then made her way towards us.
Good evening, Hermione, Mr. Weasley, Ms. Weasley, she said before addressing me. You need to come with me.
Hermione and I exchanged a look. Her face showed genuine confusion, and I could only hope that mine mirrored the same emotion. I stood up and followed the professor out of the room.
We walked through the halls in silence. When we got to Dumbledore's office, she murmured the password and we entered.
The scene before me was definitely an intriguing one. Dumbledore and Malfoy were standing beside each other, looking down at a large book. When McGonagall cleared her throat to announce our presence, both men looked up. Draco's lip curled into his normal sneer, and Dumbledore's eyes twinkled reassuringly. I wonder how he gets his eyes to do that.
Come in, come in, Ms. Weasley! Mr. Malfoy and I were just talking about you.
Well, that's comforting to know. I turned to thank Professor McGonagall, but she was already gone. What's up with disappearing acts lately?
Warily, I made my way over to the men. Please have a seat, Ginny. Draco. Dumbledore waved at the two very comfortable-looking chairs that were in front of his desk. When we both sat down, the Headmaster allowed himself to sit also.
I'm sure you both know why you're here, he began. Draco, I mean, Malfoy nodded which just increased my confusion.
Actually, sir, I have no idea what I'm doing here. Am I in trouble? Real smooth, Ginevra, real smooth. Now he thinks you have a guilty conscience. Great.
No, Miss Guilty-Conscience, we are not in trouble, Malfoy drawled much as he had done earlier that evening. I looked at him in astonishment before tossing my sweetest smile at him, and he simply raised his eyebrow in superior question. Ah ha, I'd thought of that insult before him! I'm so good. Wait, Ginevra, are you congratulating yourself for putting yourself down before Malfoy did? Oh right...
Oh well! I thought with the smile still on my face. A minor point. And how is he to know what I'm smiling about? Yes, I'm Mysterious Ginny!
Dumbledore cleared his throat to regain our attention. Before turning to him, I gave Malfoy a final amused look. When the Headmaster saw we were looking at him, he started.
Draco is right, Ginny; neither of you are in any kind of trouble. I have brought you here because Mr. Malfoy has learned of a plot that involves you both. Draco, would you care to explain?
Malfoy nodded slightly at the Headmaster before shifting his glaze to me. My father wrote me several days ago. He told me of a Seer in Rome and how she sensed that he was to be the holder of the Pharien Prophecy. Exactly a week later, he had it in his possession. Then he informed me that I needed to come home on the break and bring you with me, Weasley. My father didn't understand that I'd already read his whole library and knew about the Pharien. When I researched a bit more on the subject, I found what I'd remembered about it had been correct. That enough, Headmaster? How could he talk so nonchalantly about his father's most likely awful plan? Didn't it matter to him at all?
The Headmaster ignored the cold quality in Malfoy's voice. Yes, thank you. Ms. Weasley, the Pharien Prophecy is different from most other prophecies. Instead of riddles and rhymes, it's a story. The Seer who wrote the Pharien out, Elizabeth Cheston, told her family that they had come to her as a series of dreams. The following mornings, she'd write the story of the dreams out in full detail. If Lucius Malfoy does actually have the original, it would be Elizabeth's journal. That's where she first wrote it.
He paused for a moment, clearly wanting some type of reaction from me. I responded in kind with a small nod. Dumbledore's expression became grim as he went on.
Sadly, days after the young prophetess finished recording her dreams, she died in a carriage accident. Her maid confessed her mistress was going to her lover, Lord Linsburg, with the intention of eloping. Upon hearing the news of her death, he quietly went into his chambers and shot himself. It all caused quite a scandal. The journal disappeared. Some believe that the family hid it away in shame of their daughter's actions while others speculate that she was murdered and it was stolen by the people who killed her. No one knows for sure. A truly sorrowful tale.
Well that's terribly cheerful. How awful for all of them! I could feel tears build up in my eyes, but I refused to let them out. Now is not the time to mourn for someone I don't even know. Later in my dorm maybe but not with Malfoy and Professor Dumbledore around. I closed my eyes and made a valiant (and semi-successful) attempt to stop the tears. When I was under control once again, I refocused on the Headmaster. His own eyes had a sympathetic look about them and made me feel strangely less embarrassed about my extreme Weasley emotions. I dared not glance at Malfoy for fear of what his expression would hold. Sorry, not interested in seeing mocking looks from Malfoy. For a moment, I thought over what the Headmaster and Malfoy had said.
Sir, what would Lucius Malfoy want Draco and I to do with the prophecy? Dumbledore sighed and replied that it was time for me to read the journal to further my comprehension of the situation. He took out his wand and summoned a small but thick book. It appeared to be leather-bound and very old. The book looked like it could have been the original. I aimed my eyes up at the ancient man behind the desk. Wasn't Lucius Malfoy supposed to have the original?
Weasley, surely you have heard of the spell that perfectly duplicates anything you want it to, granted it's not alive. Damn my face for giving my thoughts away! The git glanced pointedly at my hands which were clenching and unclenching by my side. His extremely irritating smirk widened which only added to my rapidly growing anger. What I wouldn't give to slap that Holier-than-thou expression off his face. Or maybe a punch in the nose. Yes, a punch that would make that straight nose of his crooked. He wouldn't be smirking then.
My eyes focused past Malfoy as I imagined what his expression would be if I actually acted out my little daydream. I felt my wistful smile curving my mouth and did nothing to stop it. I intend to enjoy these images for as long as I can before I have to go back to serious matters. It was one of my ways of controlling my rage. I let myself entertain the thoughts of breaking Malfoy's nose in a couple different scenarios until I finally decided to refocus.
I looked on his face and noted the curious look in his cold eyes. Mysterious Ginny had returned! But then I spoke. Yes, I have heard of it, thank you all the same. Gods Ginny! That was such a little wimp of a comeback. With that weak voice. And did I detect a trace of hurt? You weren't hurt a second ago! As a matter of fact, you were envisioning Malfoy's broken nose a second ago. What the hell happened?
Why can't I just say what I'm thinking instead of being reserved? I'm all snippy and quick in my head, but then something happens on the thought's way to my mouth. It goes through a lameness tunnel or something and comes out all weak and stupid. Like me. Grrrr... I really hate this. My voice doesn't seem to understand the concept of sarcasm that well. When one is sarcastic, they are offensive and cruel not weak and hurt. Neville is better at sarcasm than I am, I internally lamented.
Instantly, a wave of shame washed through me. Neville Longbottom is a gentle boy with a heart of gold and doesn't deserve to be made fun of by anyone, let alone his friends! After all he's had to survive with his parents' condition... In many ways, his situation is worse than Harry's. At least, Harry doesn't have to see his parents, or rather the shells of his parents, suffering, slowly dying from insanity. He's so much braver than I would be in that situation. I can't stand to think about what kind of wreck I'd be in if something was to happen to Mum and -
Ms. Weasley, care for a lemon drop? You look a little flushed. Headmaster Dumbledore observed in a concerned tone. I mentally slapped myself for getting off track, an embarrassingly reoccurring habit of mine.
I'm fine, Headmaster. I was just thinking about someunpleasant things. I glanced at Draco slyly (if I do say so myself) with a smug little grin on the word unpleasant.' His eyes narrowed at the beautifully inserted albeit false implication. Oh, score for me! Maybe that will make up for the shamefully idiotic remark before. Go Ginny, hurrah!
A sudden movement appeared in the corner of my eye. I trained my eyes fully on the journal which had been sitting on Dumbledore's desk when it rose into the air and gently landed in my lap. I gingerly picked up the book and opened it to the first page. It was filled with feminine-looking handwriting. I almost sighed in relief when I saw the words.
No chance of a journal that writes back here. Well, unless it's just a spell that gives me a false sense of security and thenwell, never mind. I have always been cautious around diaries, journals, and small books, especially blank ones, since the end of my first year at Hogwarts for obvious reasons. I know it's silly, but they still give me the creeps. But this one looked packed with writing.
I could show you where the prophecy is in the book but I'd rather you read it all, Ms. Weasley, Dumbledore said, It would be better if you understood Elizabeth Cheston's character as well as her prediction. Now it's time for both of you to go to bed. Filch has been informed so don't worry about being caught in the hallways. I will summon you again in a fortnight. That should give you enough time to read the entire journal. Good night. I murmured a good night in return while Malfoy simply nodded. We rose and left without speaking a word to each other.