HARRY POTTER AND THE SEERS' TRUTH
By Lady Lestrange
Wish it Real-- Wish it Not
10 REVIEWS. Here's the new chapter—I really hate blackmailing you into reviewing, but hey, I'm a Slytherin. It's in my nature, so when there are 10 reviews for this chapter, the next one will magically appear. LOL Love my readers and reviewers. Answers to reviews follow the story.
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter characters and previous situations belong to JK Rowlings. No infringement is meant or implied. No money is made from this Fanfic. THANKS JK.
LADY LESTRANGE
***
(A/N: I've been reading a number of fanfics in installments like this one myself, and find it is sometimes hard to remember exactly what has happened before-In a fic as complex as this one is, I thought having a reminder may be helpful for you. If you want to skip it, just page down FOUR times. --Lady Lestrange)
UP TO THIS POINT: Parvati has been having dreams and visions about the Dark Lord, Harry and a Prophecy Child. So far, they are not sure who the prophecy child is, and it is important for them to find him/her. The Sorting Hat is not sorting, so the students have "little brothers and sisters" to show around. The dream team thinks that The Sorting Hat failing is a plot to hide the Prophecy child from the teachers and anyone who can help insure that he/she stays on the side of light. No one is sure that the brothers and sisters actually belong to the house they are currently in.
The Hogwarts Express has been attacked. Dark Marks have been in the sky. The floo network is compromised. The Minister of Magic has been turned. Snape is now teaching both Defense and Advanced Defense, but it looks like Advanced Defense is just an excuse to let the Slytherins and Ginny and Edward visit the Dark Lord. Mrs. Figg is teaching potions and we know very little about her so far, except that she was against Dumbledore's suggestion to make Poly Juice Potion.
Beatrice is an animagus, a bunny. Edward's granny looks like she could have given the Dursleys a few pointers on cruelty. Slytherin is a house at war according to Snape, divided between Death Eaters and those who want to stay on the side of light. Harry uses his Invisibility Cloak and finds out when it is ripped, the Invisibility spell ceases. There is an unwelcome addition to Myrtle's bathroom, Olive Hornby. Peeves is his usual annoying self, but the Baron seems to have a little less control over him.
Samara, for some reason, lofts some wicked, powerful curses. She doesn't look like she has total control over them, which isn't really surprising since she's learned magic on her own from a book, that Harry is sure is a dark book. She seems to like Draco, but don't assume this is a romance. It is not. Ginny is still hearing voices in her head. Harry's scar is hurting more, and neither he nor Ginny know what this means. Ginny is closer with Harry this year, but again, not romantically. There is Edward, the new Gryffindor, who seems interested in Ginny, but Ginny really hasn't gotten over Tom.
We find out about Neville's powerful auror parents. We learn that Neville has a memory charm that was put on him as a baby. He's a more powerful wizard than anyone ever thought as evidenced by his yew wand and the way he reacts to Snape's ministrations in trying to remove the memory charm. We might wonder why Snape is trying to do this himself, instead of enlisting the help of Madam Pomfrey. Sirius and Lupin are on "fieldtrips" with the sixth and seventh years.
Of course we can also wonder why Snape is so determined to teach his classes advanced spells like the Patronus, or we can just chalk it up to Snape, being mean. The Fifth year class starts apparition classes and we meet Professor Sinistra. We also visit Hufflepuff, where we see The Wall, and Slytherin house, where we discover, to our amazement, a magic room that Draco shares with Samara, but Samara has a very unslytherin use for the room. Ravenclaw to come next weekend.
The chapter, CHAINED AND CHARMED, takes place at the same time as DANCING IS AN OUT OF BODY EXPERIENCE-when Samara was in Slytherin, dancing. It is Saturday afternoon. Harry and the Gryffindors examine Samara's Dark Book, after they come back from lunch. They find an extreme potion, and decide they need to make a trip to the Chamber of Secrets. Ghastly Ghostly Dinner is when Gryffindor's meet with Samara after her little trip to Slytherin. Samara and Beatrice are persuaded by Edward to help him steal his snake back from his brother Ethan. Things get a little out of hand, and Samara learns more about Slytherin than she ever wanted to know.
Now the Gryffindors are mad at her. Samara wants to make up and be friends with them, but is it possible to befriend both Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy? How far will she go to make up, or will she just find some valuable information to store away for future use? (So, don't you want one of those Tee shirts?)
LIONS AND TIGERS:We see a very stressed out Snape both in Harry's memory of what happened with Snape and Neville and in the actual DADA class. We find out Trelawney doesn't want Samara in her class and Samara decides to take Ancient Runes instead. McGonagall assures Samara that Trelawney has done her a favor. McGonagall further talks to Samara about her experiences in Gryffindor, opening the door to give Samara someone to talk to, if she so chooses. We also learned lots more about animagi in McGonagall's class. Snape dismisses the Gryffifndors and keeps the Slytherins after class. We find out it's because Snape wants them to practice their patronus because the Slytherins are so lousy at the spell. Could it be because there are so few happy memories to chose from? In DRAGON BREATH AND BLUDGER BATS, Ginny and Edward set the Slytherins up with fire mints, and Samara gets extremely angry at them both because they hurt her friends. In an effort to contain her anger, she goes to the Quiddich pitch where she meets Fred and George. After lobbing a few quaffles at them in her anger, they decide to ask her to be a Beater for Gryffindor. She refuses.
AND NOW ON TO THE STORY:
Chapter 28
Wish it Real—Wish it Not
As Samara left the Quiddich pitch, she checked her pocket for her tie and her wand and unloosened another button at the top of her shirt. She twisted up her hair and stuck her wand through it. She wished she knew how to do a cooling charm on her clothing. She was hot and tired and sweating after her impromptu quiddich match with Fred and George.
Suddenly, she spied Draco in front of her, walking up to the castle with Vincent and Greg.
"Draco! Draco! Wait!" she called, and then she wondered what she could possibly say to him.
Vincent stopped. "Hi Samara," he said.
"Crabbe, stop talking to yourself," Draco said without turning around. "Dumbledore will be shipping you off to St. Mongos."
"But Draco," said Vincent.
"I know," said Draco, looking at Samara with disdain. "I thought I heard a friend calling too, but it just turned out to be one of those annoying Gryffindor cats. Ignore it." He turned back to the steps and Samara was afraid he would just go into the castle, and she wouldn't even have a chance to talk to him.
"Draco, I didn't do anything to deserve this."
"There it goes, caterwauling again," said Draco.
"That's not fair," cried Samara.
"Fair?" repeated Draco.
"I didn't have anything to do with the Dragon Breath Mints."
"Dragon?" Draco said turning. "Should I be flattered?"
"I thought we were ignoring her," muttered Greg.
Vincent punched him and the two of them got into a shoving match.
"Draco glared at Samara. "Even Potter has more sense than to try to play on both sides of the fence. You have to choose. Slytherin or Gryffindor. Oh dear—I forgot. You already did make your choice."
"I didn't. I swear to you this wasn't my fault. How can I make you believe me?"
"There's a potion," said Draco. "Actually several-- potions that would have you spilling all your pathetic little secrets to me in seconds—But" he sneered, "They're all too expensive to waste."
Samara didn't answer.
Draco leaned in close to her. She could smell his cologne, feel his breath on her face, see his molten red aura. She knew he felt angry, but more than that, he felt betrayed—hurt. Involuntarily, she leaned into him and he grasped her shoulders, speaking softly for her ears only. "Do you remember my telling you that some wizarding families are better than others? Some are more powerful too. You shouldn't cross them unless you want to be hurt. I was willing to forgive the curse. Willing to overlook your foolish games with Potter and Weasley. Willing to share—" his voice dropped to a whisper. "Things that should not have been shared with--"
Samara caught her breath, thinking of the Room. "Draco?" she interrupted.
"Shut up," he spat. "I haven't asked you to talk."
Samara's dark eyes flashed fire. She pulled out of his hands and reached for her wand, but Draco was quicker. Almost as a reflex, he pinned her wand arm, causing her to drop her wand with the force of his grip. His own wand was out and trained at her throat. She turned her head away. Draco slowly ran the tip of his wand down her face, from the corner near her ear, down her neck, and to the cleavage that was visible because she had two of her shirt buttons unloosened beneath her open robe.
She weighed whether or not she dared try to draw power from the Earth with his wand trained on her. She was breathing fast, and her palms were sweating. He could hurt her if he wanted to.
"Scared?" Draco whispered.
"No," Samara answered defiantly meeting his eyes, although she could feel her legs shaking.
"You should be," he said, slowly putting his wand away. Without warning, his mouth descended upon hers and suddenly he was kissing her. There was nothing romantic about the kiss. His magic was not warm and inviting. It was cold and brutal, taking instead of sharing. He pushed her against the castle wall. Although his aura was nothing like Ethan's, Samara could sense a great amount of darkness.
She pulled suddenly from the air elemental and thrust him away from her.
He staggered backwards several steps and glared at her. For a moment, she thought he would go for his wand. Then he turned on his heel and started to walk away.
She picked up her wand. "Adhere!" shouted Samara and he turned to block too late.
"Ah Ha! A backstabbing Gryffindor I should have known that you'd throw that spell at my back. Want me to stick around, do you?" He asked, his cool gray eyes on Samara.
"No, she said softly. "I just wanted to tell you it was a real hoot to see a dragon breath fire."
"You've never seen this dragon breathe fire," Draco said in a low voice, his aura flashing various hues with his anger.
"And," Samara continued rolling her wand in her hand. "I've been offered the job of the new Gryffindor Beater. It will be great fun to smash that handsome face of yours with a few bludgers." She paused before saying: "Finis incantatum!" which released his shoes from the ground.
"Humph," he said as he turned away, but Samara noticed that his aura had mellowed to the same soft, dusty rose that it was at the lake.
"What did I say?" thought Samara.
She didn't even attempt to put her hair back up. She headed back to Gryffindor, with it trailing down her back in a tangled mess, her whole body shaking with anger and tears. Even though magic had meant everything to her, she found herself wishing desperately for her normal muggle family with all of their imperfections. She wanted to go home.
==
When Samara got back to the common room, Ginny was in a heated conversation with Harry, Ron and Hermione. As soon as Samara stepped foot across the threshold of the common room, all conversation stopped. Their four auras flickered with varying degrees of unease.
"Oh, don't stop on my account," Samara spat. "I'm just passing through."
"Samara, it's not what you think," said Ginny.
"And what is it, I was thinking?" Samara asked in a low voice. "Are you telepathic now, Ginny?"
"Well, that we were talking about you."
"Weren't you?"
"Yes, but—Samara—let us explain," said Ginny.
"Us?" interrupted Ron. "Ginny, I think you should explain. After all, you're the one who stood up for her—otherwise, she'd be in Slytherin and we wouldn't have this problem."
"Come on," Hermione urged. "Let's go to the library. We have work to do." Hermione herded Harry and Ron out of the common room even though neither of them had any books. Samara supposed that the twenty or so books that Hermione had slung over her back was enough for all of them. When they left the room seemed strangely quiet with only Ginny and Samara in it.
"Good riddance," Samara muttered under her breath, but she was already feeling the familiar tightness in her throat, and tears flooded her eyes. She blinked them away, unwilling to cry in front of Ginny. She wanted to be angry at Ginny. "I can't believe you actually did that dragon breath mint stuff at dinner," said Samara. "And then you acted like I was in on it. Do you know how that looked to Draco?"
"Do you know how it looked to Harry?" countered Ginny.
"I don't care," said Samara.
"Harry and Draco are not even comparable," Said Ginny.
"You've got that right," spat Samara.
"Sit down," said Ginny softly. "There are things I need to tell you. Things you need to know about Harry Potter. At least in that respect, Ron and Hermione were right."
Samara sat, but she was fuming. She was not willing to listen. She was waiting for Ginny to say something that would open the door for her to tell her what a two-faced, lying, friend she had turned out to be. "I thought you were my friend," Samara whispered.
"I am," said Ginny, But instead of explaining her own actions, Ginny began telling Samara the story that the whole wizarding world knew. The story of baby Harry Potter vanquishing the Dark Lord. "If Harry, even as a baby, hadn't defeated the Dark Lord, we would all be living in a very different world. We have to thank Harry for that."
"Yes, I know," said Samara. "I've read all about the great Harry Potter."
"I'm not talking about the facts you can read about him," said Ginny. "I'm talking about the real Harry—the person. You need to get to know him."
Samara shrugged.
"In his first year at school, when he was only eleven, he defeated the Dark Lord again. In my first year, Harry was twelve. That was the year I—I—" Ginny broke off, and Samara patiently waited for her to continue. She didn't, she stared off into space, as if she were a million miles away, her eyes clouded with tears.
"I suppose he defeated the Dark Lord again that year, too," Samara spat.
"Yes." Ginny replied. "Yes, he did."
Ginny sighed softly, and then continued. "Harry Potter is a very powerful wizard, Samara. Some say he is the most powerful wizard of the age, surpassing even Dumbledore, or at least he will surpass him when he's an adult.. But what most people don't know is what the confrontations with Voldemort have cost Harry.
I'm not talking about scars on his forehead. I'm talking about internal scars. He knows that the only reason Cedric Diggory is dead is because he was standing beside Harry Potter. He knows his life is in danger and the lives of his friends are in danger, but he just continues to live as normal a life as possible. Some people think he wants this fame, but he doesn't. He's one of the most humble people I know. He has such goodness in him, Samara that you could fight with him today, and if tomorrow you needed his help, he would give it. He's like no one else I know."
"Saint Potter," muttered Samara.
"Those aren't your words," spat Ginny. "They're Draco's! Anyway--" Ginny's lowered her voice. "Is there something wrong with being good, Samara?"
"No. But no one is ever perfect, Ginny. No one."
"I never said he was perfect."
"Well, if you're so keen on Harry Potter, why aren't the two of you dating? He's just a guy, Ginny. Sounds to me like you never got over that crush you had in first year."
"Crush? Who told you that?" demanded Ginny.
"Harry," said Samara.
"Oh."
Silence descended upon the common room.
"Harry's very human," said Ginny softly. "But sometimes people expect more from him, because he's Harry Potter. I've seen how –how—" She shrugged, uncertain of how to continue. "I've seen him cry," she said softly. "My mother held him when he cried over Cedric, and he said, 'It's my fault', but it isn't his fault. He's always fought. Always. Always on the side of light, but terrible things just seem to follow him because of the Dark Lord. Everyone thinks he's so brave, so powerful, but he's really sensitive too, and—"
"Listen to yourself," said Samara. "Go for him, Ginny."
"No," said Ginny softly. "He's too good for me."
"What!"
"Harry wants to be your friend, Samara—" Ginny continued, "But Draco makes it difficult. Draco's father is a Death Eater. Maybe Draco himself is a Death Eater. Whatever else Draco is, he's on the wrong side in this war, Samara. It's dangerous being with him."
"You just told me that it was dangerous being friends with Harry Potter. Make up your mind, Ginny."
"It is," said Ginny. She paused, and her eyes misted over. She did not look at Samara as she continued. "But the question is not what your personal feelings are—It's what is right. You have to look at what is right, not what you feel. If you align yourself with Draco, you put yourself on the wrong side in this war." Ginny looked at her with an intensity that was frightening. "It's that simple."
Samara turned away. "It's not simple."
"You're right," Ginny said with a sigh. "It's not simple, but—" She hesitated and then continued as if immersed in a memory. "But it should be. I want it to be—"
"Want what? Want life to be all cut out for you like some multiple choice test? Just pick an answer. This one is right. This one is wrong? It wouldn't be worth living."
It would," said Ginny. "Last year, after Cedric died, Dumbledore said something to the whole school that has stuck with me. He said, if in the future, we are faced with a choice between what is right and what is easy, we should remember what happened to Cedric Diggory, a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, who died, simply because he strayed into the path of Voldemort. * You cannot possibly know what evil Voldemort is—you cannot know."
"Draco is not Voldemort," argued Samara. "Every Slytherin is not in league with the devil. They aren't all the same, Ginny. You're wrong."
"If you think I'm wrong," said Ginny. "Answer this question. Why haven't you told Draco you're muggle born?"
"I can't," whispered Samara. "Not yet."
"Not ever," said Ginny. "He'd drop you so fast—"
"He wouldn't," protested Samara.
"Then tell him," Ginny challenged. "Tomorrow."
"No. When the time is right, I'll tell him. Not yet."
"And in the meantime, do you know what Death Eaters do for fun, Samara? They kill muggles. No. That's wrong. They don't just kill them. They torture them to death. Muggles, like your parents-- your brothers—your grandma—what was her name? Grandma Lori?"
"Stop!" Samara screamed at her. "Just stop!" The tears that she had been holding in, finally spilled from her eyes, and Ginny moved onto the sofa beside her. She didn't say a word, she reached out for Samara, to comfort her, but Samara avoided her touch. After a long while, Ginny whispered, "I understand—"
"NO. You don't--" Samara countered.
Ginny let the silence settle around them, but it was not a comfortable silence. At last, she spoke.
"You were sorted into Gryffindor," said Ginny. "I know Ron isn't sure you belong here, but I am. I know I did the right thing standing for you. If you had gone into Slytherin, who would have helped you to see the truth about Draco Malfoy?"
"The truth about Draco? Stop being so melodramatic, Ginny. You sound like you really are living in the middle ages."
"I'm not being melodramatic, Samara. These are dangerous times. You came into Gryffindor for a reason, and I think it was to keep you away from Draco."
"Why? Because he's an evil dark wizard?" Samara laughed. "Come off it, Ginny. He's just a guy: a hot, sexy, guy and if you can't see that, Ginny—"
"He's in Slytherin!" Ginny interrrupted.
"Oh, well, there's a reason to dump him." Samara shook her head. "I don't know what it is with you and Slytherins. Can't you see how unfair you're being? It's nothing but pure prejudice—you and Potter and his little group—"
"Potter?" said Ginny.
"I can't believe you're acting like this, not when you have advanced defense with almost all Slytherins, not after you dated a Slytherin yourself in first year."
"It wasn't exactly a date," Ginny interrupted.
"So what was it then?"
"I don't think that's your business," Ginny snapped.
"Fine. Think what you like," said Samara coldly. "It's all right for you to dig around in my personal life, but yours is a deep, dark secret." Samara dried her eyes and looked at Ginny. "I need to get my Advanced History Homework done." She stood and headed for the dormitory.
"Are you--going to the library?" asked Ginny.
"What do you care?" said Samara, and then as she reached the door she turned back to Ginny. "I'm going to take a look at what's in the Ravenclaw library, that is, if Parvati is upstairs. I'll need the password."
"It's a weeknight," said Ginny. "And you aren't supposed to go out after dark."
Samara rolled her eyes. "I'll try not to meet up with any evil dark wizards in Ravenclaw. I won't be long."
Samara wasn't long. She was back in only about an hour. She was feeling much better though after an hour of intense studying with Lisa Turpin even though Samara didn't get into Ravenclaw itself. She found Lisa finishing a tutoring session with a Hufflepuff in the library, and although she saw Harry, Ron and Hermione in the library, looking for books, she studiously avoided them, and they left shortly after she arrived.
After a short break Samara and Lisa began working on Advanced History. The studying took Samara's mind off of everything but Advanced History. It was wonderful to be so immersed in the laws of magic, and Lisa, whose mother was a muggle, appreciated Samara's comparisons of magic to electricity. It made Samara proud that she knew the laws of magic better than Lisa did. Of course, she had already studied this section of the book at home last year.
==
Samara came back to Gryffindor feeling sharp and ready to take on the world—that is, anyone but the three musketeers who sat in the corner working on some parchments together. Harry looked up when she came in, and gave her a small smile, but Ron and Hermione pointedly ignored her. Samara turned her head away, and didn't speak.
She was too keyed up to go to sleep, so she foolishly challenged Lou to a game of chess. The game had barely started when she realized that she didn't have the concentration to do this well now. Lou was a very good player. Samara kept glancing over at the corner where Harry sat with Ron and Hermione. Lou beat her soundly in half dozen moves.
"Rematch?" He suggested.
"I don't think so," said Samara. "Maybe tomorrow. I'm going to bed." She crept silently into the room. Neither Parvati, nor Lavender were there and Hermione was still in the common room with Ron and Harry. Ginny, however, was already asleep. At least she was as asleep as she got without a dreamless sleep potion. Her blanket was on the floor and she was lying diagonally across the bed. She was thrashing about as usual. Samara sighed and got ready for bed. By the time she was ready to crawl under the sheets, Ginny's pillow had joined her blanket on the floor. She was moaning softly and clutching the corner of her night robe, which was now hiked up, around her middle. Samara reached over and pulled the covers up over Ginny's shivering form.
==
Ginny was asleep. Yes, she was supposed to be asleep. The medi-witches and medi-wizards were bustling around her.
"Did you increase her potion?" asked the medi-witch.
"Yes. As much as I can. I'm using somniferum potion. She won't wake this time. Not until we need her participation." The medi-wizard smoothed her hair. "This poor child has been through so much. Are you ready?"
"Yes," said the medi-witch.
"No," muttered Ginny. "No—please don't—" They didn't hear her.
Ginny felt the smooth edge of a wand at her temple. The first thought was examined without trauma, and the second and the third---
Eleven-year-old Ginny was writing in the diary. "Oh, Tom, Hogwarts is so exciting. I can't wait to learn everything—"
"Would you like me to teach you some things?" Tom wrote back, the letters appearing across the page in his beautiful flowing script.
"Oh yes—But what about you Tom? We should be trying to free you from this curse. Who was the evil wizard?"
"Don't worry about me," Tom wrote.
"We aren't deep enough," the medi-witch commented. "Just innocent conversations."
By the time the medi-witches and wizards were changed twice, Ginny was starting to sweat, and the conversations were no longer innocent.
"Virginia. You promised to free me. Do you understand the importance of Intent in magic?"
"I didn't know," Ginny whined. "Please. I don't want to have any more nightmares—Don't make me, Tom."
"Found one we can remove," said the medi-witch.
"OK."
Ginny whimpered as she felt the binding spell of the medi-wizard holding her still as the medi-witch untangled the memory from those around it. Her blood pressure and heart rate began to climb. "I've never seen such a tangled mess," commented the medi-witch. "It's almost as if the person who created this diary knew how to tie memories together. They are all wrapped around common themes. If I pull one, I risk pulling some of her good memories. Ah, I got it."
The medi-witch brushed Ginny's hair back again. "Poor child. Her vitals are still good, but I think she's feeling some of these."
"Can't be," commented another medi-witch. "She's on the highest amount of somniferum potion
we can give her.
"Found another one," commented the medi-wizard who was sorting through Ginny's brain. Ginny whimpered as he tugged on it. "I think it's in pretty tight. We may need a severing charm to remove only part of it."
"No," commented another medi-witch. "I don't like to do them that way. It leaves incomplete memories and later can give way to other sanity problems.
"Did you see what this girl went through?" commented another medi-witch. "I doubt if she could ever hold on to her sanity anyway."
"We want to give her every chance," said another medi-wizard.
The memory began easily enough. The Diary wrote: "Happy Birthday, Virginia. We should celebrate getting back together.
Don't—you--think?"
Ginny began to thrash and moan in her hospital bed. "No," she muttered.
"I have present for you, Virginia." Scrawled the diary.
Ginny broke out in cold sweat. She struck out her hand and magic glistened on her fingers.
"Get a hold on her," shouted one of the medi-witches.
"Increase her somniferum," said another one.
"I can't," said a third, "She's already on a dangerously high dosage."
A fourth medi-witch wound the thought around her wand and picked at it to disentangle it from the other thoughts.
"Can't get it," the medi-witch complained.
"Well, what is it?" asked another. She sucked in her breath as she viewed the memory. "Take it out!" the medi-witch demanded.
"I can't," hissed another medi-witch in frustration. They worked silently for a few minutes together. To Ginny it seemed like hours, and to no avail. Finally the witch stopped. "I think it goes back to a hub. It's a consensual web," said the medi-witch rubbing her neck with fatigue. "I'm spent, and I think Virginia needs a break too. The pain is bleeding through the somniferum potion and we can't give her any more yet.
"Can't be. It's never bled through somniferum."
"Can we give her a sleeping ward charm?" Asked another.
They tried the sleeping ward charm and for a few minutes Ginny relaxed. Different wizards and witches were with her when she awoke. She was in agony.
The medi-witches were talking again. "It's an intricate web, and because she gave consent, there is nothing we can do to remove it. We can't remove the parts we really want to remove."
"Where is the consent?"
"Everywhere," said a medi-wizard pointing out various memories of Ginny writing in the Diary. "And at every point of consent is another knot. Whoever enchanted this diary was a master. Look. This is what she wrote."
"Of course, I'll help you get out of the Diary, Tom, but who is this Dark Wizard that put you here?"
"I want to help you break the enchantment so you can live free."
"You're my best friend, Tom."
"And later," said the medi-witch with a sigh. "She wrote this:"
"Yes, I know you explained the power of Intention, but I didn't understand!"
"If she didn't understand—" began one of the medi-wizards.
"It doesn't matter," interrupted another. "Ignorance doesn't negate the spell. Her Intent was to free him, even though she didn't know the cost. See. Look at this entry—"
"I know I said I would free you, but I don't want to die—please—Tom, is there another way?"
"This one is about as open ended as you can get—"
"Anything—Anything you want Tom." Wrote Ginny.
"And here it is," said the Medi-witch. "This is the hub. This is where it really solidified."
Ginny remembered her absolute terror when she realized that Tom had called the basilisk and it would kill her unless it sensed Tom within her.
"I'm scared, Tom. It's going to kill me, isn't it? ISN'T IT? I don't want to die. I'm scared. . . I want you to go away. . .I want my Tom. . . What do you want me to do, Tom? . . . I understand. . . It needs to sense you, not me. How can I let you control me? I don't understand. Yes, I remember what you said about Intent. . . . OK. . . . Will I get to come back—I mean after—you won't just—just—yes, of course I trust you, Tom. Where will I go? OK --You can control my body –but just to control the basilisk—WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN'T PROMISE ME THAT?"
"That last was scrawled and the quill had ripped the page.
"It looks like some parts of the conversation were skipped," interjected one of the medi-wizards.
"Yes. Some parts ceased to be written. She was communicating directly, mind to mind with him at least part of the time here," said the Medi-witch. "She seems to be hysterical."
"OK! OK! Whatever you want Tom. I don't care. Just do it. Just don't let it kill me! JUST DO IT!"
"And you can't get that memory out?" asked the medi-witch.
"I can try again," said the other medi-witch shaking her head in dismay. "You can see that she gave consent to him—numerous times."
Ginny's head felt like it was splitting open. Magic was dripping from her fingertips, burning her. She didn't know how she knew it was magic but she did. She tried to shut out the pain.
"She's hurting," said one of the medi-wizards.
"Do you think so?" questioned another.
"Yes. Can you feel the magic in her hands?"
"Wandless. Is it hers, or the thing that's inside of her?"
Ginny wanted away from these memories. She tried to go back to when she was little, but the only reality she could see was a dark corner in a basement. She sought that solitude desperately.
"If you can't apologize, you will have to sit here alone with the rats." Said the Orphanage caretaker. "You will learn manners, or I will beat them into you. Do you understand?" She tapped her stick on the palm of her hand.
"I didn't do anything," moaned Ginny, trying to roll herself into a smaller ball. "They lied. Alfred lied. Why do you always believe him, but you don't believe me?"
Tears were rolling down Ginny's face and soaking the pillow under her head. She felt a tear flow down and into one of her ears. She thrashed her head back and forth, hysterically. She knew what was coming. She didn't want to see this memory, but it was the only one she could access with the medi-witches in her head, and even it was better than facing the medi-witches.
The Orphanage woman laid the stick upon her, beating her legs, and back and buttocks—not once or twice like the other children got—this beating went on and on. Suddenly she couldn't stand it any longer. With a wish that was real the stick became a snake. It slithered in the woman's hand and bit her on the forearm. She shrieked and dropped the snake made from a stick. Slamming the door, she left Tom in total darkness with the snake and the rats.
In the silence the present pain came back to Ginny. They were taking a memory—not this memory—but another one. One that was also about snakes—No—the King of Snakes. They were in the Chamber of Secrets. Tom was speaking to her, but she couldn't understand him because of the pain in her head. "Stop! Please."
"I think she's feeling this," said one of the medi-witches.
"She can't be—"
"Can't give her any more potion—"
Ginny wanted to scream and scream. Surely they heard her begging them to stop. Surely they heard her screams—she ran—trying to find someplace to hide. At last she found someplace. It was dark and quiet.
Far away she heard the medi-witches speaking. "She consented to this joining."
"She was eleven. She didn't understand."
"It doesn't matter. I wish it wasn't so, but we can't remove them. Not the consensual ones"
"None of them?"
"A few, perhaps. Not the ones that matter."
"Do what you can."
Ginny went back to her quiet place. She was holding a rat, running her forefinger from the tip of its nose, between it's beady black eyes to it's ears. She rubbed the soft hair inside of it's warm, fragile ears. She fed it from her meager supplies. "At least, no one will tease me here," she thought, wiping away her tears. A cold hard resolve began to form in her heart. "I hate them," she told the rat. "Someday, I'll make them pay—Someday, I'll be so powerful they won't be able to hurt me."
"I see something strange here," said one of the medi-wizards.
"What is it?"
"Is this possible?"
"What?"
"It doesn't look like her memory."
"Don't be ridiculous. It's in her head. Of course it's her memory."
"But look at the magical signature when she changed the whipping stick into a snake. It's not her magic."
Another wizard began poking his wand around in her brain. Ginny retreated further into the shadows, gritting her teeth against the pain.
"You can conquer the pain," said another voice in her head. "Let me help you."
"No," muttered Ginny. "You are the bad wizard—the one that locked Tom in the diary."
"There is no bad wizard and good wizard Ginny. How many times do I have to tell you? There is only Tom Riddle and who we became—Lord Voldemort. One wizard. And if I'm telling you how to take away the pain, why do you think I'm bad?"
Ginny found the quiet spot in the basement and held her rat. No one could find her here. She had wished it real. No one will find me. She listened. The Orphanage people were talking about her.
"If they accept him at this Hogwart's boarding school, I think we should send him and good riddance."
"But we know nothing about it—"
"We know that Tom Riddle can more than take care of himself. Personally I'll be happy to be able to make the beds without wondering what he has hidden under them."
"When does school start?"
"September first."
"What about the tuition?"
"Well, that's what is strange. It says his tuition is paid for the entire seven years."
"It's decided then. Probably his mother paid it before she died."
His mother—he breathed—at least his mother loved him—Only until September first. Then he would never come back here. He would follow all the rules. He would be the perfect student.
Suddenly the memory in which Ginny was hiding was shaken. Pain shot through her, as they tried to remove it. Think of something else—Ginny demanded of herself—choose another memory—
The medi-witches were talking
"I don't understand how it happened, but these definitely aren't her memories. We should be able to remove them. I don't understand why we can't--"
"If we can't remove these memories then the only thing we can do is block them."
"Whose memories are these?
"Does it matter? They aren't hers. This is something from that Diary—I don't know how it was done—this is old magic."
"We can block them off with memory charms," suggested one of the medi-witches.
"Memory charms are not fool proof. The memories could return."
"They could, but they might not. In any event, she won't have to deal with them now, as an eleven-year-old. If she remembers as an adult, it might not be quite so traumatic."
"Maybe they won't come back at all. There's really no reason for her to examine this little corner of her mind."
"I believe that's all we can do."
"Poor child."
Ginny fell asleep in the quiet aftermath. She crept back to the memory that had kept her safe throughout the ordeal at St. Mongos. It was dark and quiet and there was no pain. It was a good place to sleep. The Orphanage people let her sleep here in the dark. She didn't care. She liked it dark. It was quiet then, and no one came to hurt you.
It was a week before the Orphanage lady came back for Tom. He should have been hungry, but he wished food real from the things he found on the ground. He didn't like to think about what they once were, but they tasted fine when he wished for buttered bread or scones or trifle. By the time the Orphanage lady came back, Tom had let the snake turn back into a stick and befriended one of the rats. He kept it in his pocket when he came out into the light.
"Have you learned your lesson?" The Orphanage lady asked sternly.
Tom didn't answer. He put his hand in his pocket and felt the tiny scratchy feet of his pet on his fingers.
"Are you hungry?" The Orphanage lady asked.
"No," said Tom.
"Don't lie," spat the Orphanage lady. "You'll burn in hell for your lying, Tom."
"Would that be very bad?" asked Tom.
"Yes," hissed the Orphanage lady. "Very bad. The worst thing you can imagine." Her voice softened. "You really need to tell the truth, Tom. You need to be a good boy. Do you understand?
He didn't answer. He looked sullenly at his feet and felt for the rat in his pocket.
The Orphanage lady sighed in frustration.
"I'm thirsty," said Tom. It seemed like he totally ignored her sermon, but four days later, Alfred's hair caught on fire. Alfred spent two weeks in the hospital because of the burns, and the scars on his face were irreparable. The orphanage people thought the child must have accidentally knocked over the candle.
But Alfred, he was a liar. He deserved to burn. The Orphanage lady had said so--
"I'm thirsty," Tom repeated.
==
Ginny wondered when they would give her something to drink.
The medi-witches and wizards finally let her sleep. Tom finally let her sleep. There were no nightmares.
In her dream she was in a quiet dark place and she was happy here. There was powerful magic around her. She could feel it. She knew this place. It was a safe place. It was His place. No one would come to hurt her here. The place had a name. It was called the Chamber of Secrets. She put her head against the cool stone and fell asleep.
==
*Direct quote from JK Rowlings' Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
ANSWERS TO REVIEWERS
Alyse: So glad you think it gets better and better. Samara is 14 and Edward is 13. It said their ages in Hogwarts Express: Crashed and Sorted: Sort of, respectively. It also told the ages of the other new characters in Sorted: Sort of.
Blue blond sorcerress: Glad you figured out how to sign up at fanfiction and what Samara's patronus should be, but it's not a shark. I hope you can figure out how to change your screen name, because you spelled sorceress wrong. Any help I can give, I will. Email me. RAVENCLAW coming soon.
Trillium: Drinking buddies? You have no idea. Wait until Halloween. Have you written any stories? Let me know. I'll R&R.
PyRei: Thanks for the award. Everyone who likes DBZ, go read PyRei's story.
Silverfox: So you don't think Samara belongs in Gryffindor? HMMMM. Where should she go? Ravenclaw coming soon. I promise.
Christina: Thanks for the glowing review.
Whiteriver: I'm not sure exactly how many chapters because I keep splitting them when new stuff pops into my head, but it's not over any time soon. Thanks for saying you don't want it to end. Maybe I'll have to cut it in half and make the second part a sequel.
Fallen Angel of Darkness: Review answered by "Lady Lestrange" review on fanfic. Thanks for keeping me on my toes. Any British born: What do you think of the phrase, "What's up?" Email me.
Ilwinterhofal: Thanks for the spiffy review.
The Elemental Sorceress: Is Samara's patronous really a flubberworm? Sorry, not telling.
Melbell: (Missed you last time)Yes. More action scenes like Hogwarts Express: Crashed coming up later. Ravenclaw chapter is sooner.