Author's Note: I'd just like to remind everyone that I revised Chapter Six to agree with the future events in this fic. If you haven't taken a peek, I suggest you do, just to be better informed.

Chapter Seven: Tempest Rising

For Ginny, the remainder of September passed swiftly and quietly. There was little news outside of Hogwarts concerning Voldemort or any attacks he might have staged. Her sixth-year studies began well, easier than the fast pace of the year before. She and Harry spent as much time together as possible, but limited their nighttime activities as to not garner any unwanted attention. And her mind was silent; she felt nothing but herself inside, and reckoned Tom was gone for good. The physical possession had done its job.

October began with a foreboding chill, making her shiver as she slipped out of bed on the first of the month. It was a Sunday, but she woke earlier than usual, feeling a strange ache in her head. Reaching for her dressing-gown, she wrapped it around her tightly as she headed for the loo, rubbing her temples to try to relieve the pain.

She glanced in the mirror as she tried to find her mother's special headache remedy in her bag, and stopped short. The sight of her face looking healthy and normal was still amazing to her eyes. She couldn't remember a time when she had looked this healthy; the sleep she was getting was rejuvenating her whole body, helping it heal. It was wonderful to feel closer to normal, after years of sleepless nights. A smile crossed her face, and she went back to searching.

After she had dressed, Ginny headed down to the common room, careful not to wake her roommates as she left her dormitory. To her surprise, Harry, Ron and Hermione were already awake and sitting by the hearth, bundled up in Weasley sweaters to protect themselves from the chilly air. All three looked quite serious as she came upon them, but when Harry noticed her presence, he smiled.

"Morning, Ginny," he said as she came over to his favorite chair by the fire, moving over to make a space for her next to him.

She smiled at all of them, sitting and warming herself. "Hi. What's going on?"

Ron smiled wanly. "Some Order members are coming for a visit today, and we're just wondering what about," he said vaguely.

Holding up The Daily Prophet so Ginny could see, Hermione gestured at the front page. "We think it might have to do with an attack on a town that happened yesterday. The Prophet says Death Eaters attacked half-blood and Muggle families," she said.

Ginny peered at the page as Harry slipped his hand into hers, twining their fingers together. The pictures looked like they had come from a war zone, with bodies and debris scattered around the ground. "Any Order members get hurt?" she asked finally.

"It didn't say," Hermione replied quietly. "But we don't think so."

"It's going to be dangerous for Muggle-borns, especially now. You-Know-Who must be on the move," Ron commented.

Harry remained silent, much to Ginny's concern, as Hermione frowned. "I'm sure he won't be able to find everyone; he can't expend his forces like that. And he can't have a whole army amassed, can he?"

Ron shook his head, looking pale. "Of course not. Not that many people actually support him; we'd hear about it."

Glancing at Harry, Ginny was surprised by the way he looked. He seemed distracted and worried, from what she could tell; the mask he used to hide his emotions didn't stop her anymore. She wanted to know what was bothering him, but if he didn't want to talk in front of Ron and Hermione, she would just have to wait.

Hermione rolled up the paper. "Let's go get some breakfast, hmm?" She stood, as did Ron, and they both looked at Harry.

Harry seemed to shake himself from his stupor, and nodded. "Yes, let's," he agreed, pulling Ginny up as he stood. The four of them headed for the portrait hole, Ginny and Hermione hanging behind the two boys.

"I believe Harry's upset because Tonks is coming," Hermione whispered in Ginny's ear as they left the common room. "He's worried about seeing her again."

Ginny felt pain in her heart as they walked down the corridor. Harry hadn't seen Tonks since the day Remus died; of course he didn't want to see her, especially if she was still upset. No matter what Ginny said to him, he still carried Remus' death as his cross, his sin to redeem. If he didn't absolve himself soon, the guilt would destroy him from the inside out.

As they headed down the steps to the Great Hall, Ginny saw a group of ragged, wan-looking people milling about. The Order members were already here; Oliver Wood was talking to Mundungus Fletcher and her brother Charlie near the door of the Great Hall, while Tonks was standing with Fred, George, and Angelina. All of them looked exhausted and unhappy.

Charlie looked up abruptly and saw them coming. A smile lit up his tired face, and he waved. "Hey!"

Ginny had to smile as she waved back; she hadn't seen Charlie since May, after her rescue from the Orkneys, and she had missed him like the devil. Why he was in Great Britain was a question she wanted answered, but she pushed it away as she went forward and was caught in a bear hug.

"Look at you, Ginny! You've grown a bit, haven't you?" Charlie grinned and released her to greet Ron with a one-armed embrace. "Hey, Ron. You look good," he said as his ruffled his youngest brother's hair.

"How are you, Charlie?" Ginny asked as Hermione and Harry came forward. "You look tired."

Charlie chuckled ruefully. "I am tired, Gin, but that's no matter. Hello you two," he said, turning to Hermione and Harry. "How have you been?"

"Fine, Charlie. It's good to see you," Harry said quietly as Hermione gave him a quick kiss on the cheek in greeting.

"Ah! Found them, Fred!" George exclaimed, coming over to the little group. He clapped Ron on the back and gave Ginny a quick squeeze. "We've been waiting for you lot to come down, you slackers," he teased, amusement coming back into his tired eyes.

Following his twin, Fred nudged Harry in greeting. "How've you been, Harry? Ready to bust out of Hogwarts and join us, eh?"

"Fred!" Hermione hissed, looking about ready to smack the man. Ron shook his head and held onto her arm, keeping her back.

Cracking a grin, Harry let out a little laugh. "Almost, Fred; almost," he said in a tone that made Ginny think twice at his words. She watched him from the corner of her eye as he listened to the twins chat, seeing a latently feral look come into his gaze. It was a look she had seen more than once in his eyes, the look of a man who felt helpless and ineffective in the face of his greatest enemy.

There was a hand at her elbow, and she turned around to look into the hollow blue eyes of Tonks. The pain from Remus filled her anew even as she tried to smile in greeting, noting the pallor of her friend's skin. "It's good to see you, Tonks," she said softly.

Tonks smiled, but Ginny could tell it was forced. "Ginny, I'd like to talk. Can we step aside, hmm?" she asked, nodding towards a quiet corner.

Nodding, Ginny walked with Tonks. "Of course; it's been a while," she said. Her heart beat painfully as she thought of Remus; what would he say now?

Once they were away from the rest of the group, Tonks let out a long sigh. "I'm very tired," she murmured before turning to Ginny. "How have you been?"

Hesitating, Ginny shrugged. "All right, I suppose. It's been hard, without—"

She stopped short of saying his name, unsure of how comfortable Tonks was with him. The older woman smiled slightly, a smile of pain and regret. "You can say his name. I'm fine with his name," she said quietly.

"It's hard without Remus," Ginny said slowly, testing the name on her mouth for the first time in weeks. She was the one afraid of saying it, afraid of this conversation. It had been weeks since she'd said his name. "Harry's having a difficult time."

Tonks sighed again, eyes drifting towards Harry, who was now talking with Oliver Wood. "I thought he might. Remus said he would; he told me, right before he died, to watch for him, to make sure he didn't do anything rash," she commented, voice breaking.

Ginny could only watch in agony as tears formed in the corner of Tonks' eyes. Her heart swelled with pain and sympathy; there was nothing she wanted more than to be able to help both Tonks and Harry, to try and assist them in their grief. Harry never spoke of it; it was festering inside him, waiting for the opportune moment to break free and destroy him. She could only hope that moment never came.

Wiping her eyes quickly, Tonks took a deep breath. "I can't bear it sometimes," she confessed softly. "I think of Harry, who's lost the closest thing he's ever had to a father, and I just wonder why he had to die. Why he had to leave Harry, just when he needed him most. Why he had to leave me."

A quiet sob choked out of her throat, and she put her face in her hands. "I know Harry doesn't want to see me; I reckoned he wouldn't, not this soon."

She lifted her eyes to Ginny's stricken gaze. "But can you tell him that I want to help? I want him to know I'm here, even though Remus isn't. He needs to know that people care about him, Ginny."

Heart breaking into infinite pieces, Ginny reached over and squeezed Tonks' elbow in an attempt to comfort. "Of course I will," she said quietly. "He knows you care."

A faint smile broke upon Tonks' face, and she hugged Ginny briefly. "Thank you. I... I need him to know, for Remus' sake. Remus is watching, and he needs to know I won't let him down," she murmured, pulling back to meet Ginny's eyes.

Ginny returned the smile. "He knows," she replied, feeling the odd ache pierce her forehead once more.

Tonks looked her over for a moment, squeezing her arm. "You look healthy, Ginny. I'm glad to see it."

Nodding, Ginny let Tonks lead her back to the group, brow furrowed. The pain was bothering her, making her wonder why her mother's remedy hadn't worked.

Then she met Harry's eyes, and all thoughts of pain disappeared from her mind. His gaze was full of the rage she knew he was struggling to suppress, struggling to get past. But she knew he was only looking for an opportunity to break free and wreck havoc upon Voldemort, get rid of him for good. The idea of a showdown frightened her, and she could only pray Harry would save himself before he was destroyed from the inside out.

It was not a peaceful couple of weeks for Harry, as Ginny had surmised. Instead of feeling the happiness of having Ginny completely free of Voldemort, he was secretly raging, feeling a tempest of anger deep within. He had heard it said that a person didn't really begin to mourn the loss of a loved one until after the funeral. It seemed to hold true; the grief and guilt over Remus' death hit him like a rock in the days after he and Ginny had performed the spell. The little moments of pain he had allowed himself before were nothing compared to the complete desperation and loss he felt now.

Coupled with Remus' death finally hitting him, Harry was stretched with the work his professors loaded upon him and his fellow students. Professor Dumbledore, though a thorough and good teacher, was a stickler for essays; he seemed to even enjoy assigning them. Professor McGonagall was as difficult as ever, and even Hagrid was getting into the spirit. For the first time, he began to assign research papers, which frustrated everyone except for possibly Hermione, who was positively thrilled with the beginning of the year. Snape was as cynical and bitter as ever, but not even Harry's loathing for the Potions professor could overthrow his thoughts of Remus.

Harry found himself not caring about school as October progressed, only immersing himself into curse books, searching for a way to bring down Voldemort. Hermione had a fit when he turned in an essay on Animagi a day late to McGonagall, and saw fit to berate him that evening, saying he was throwing his future away. It was only through the combined efforts of Ginny and Ron that she finally backed down.

Hermione just didn't understand what he was doing; who knew if he had a future to throw away? Before even thinking about life after Voldemort, he had to defeat him in any way he could, and that meant searching high and low for the curse to do away with him. Ron seemed to understand what he was doing; sometimes, when he could get away from Hermione, he helped Harry look in the many books he had taken from the library. Sometimes there would be a promising one, but it would turn out to be nothing.

Harry was beginning to get frustrated as the second week of October ended. The Prophet was reporting scores of attacks now; Voldemort was pushing his forces to something, something Harry had been anticipating since the debacle at the Department of Mysteries. He was finally going to launch a full-scale attack and try to take complete control. The only question was, where would this attack take place?

Ginny was always supportive of him in a quiet way. She would never stop him from looking, but it was almost as she couldn't bring herself to help him look. He didn't understand why she was so bothered by the search; she should want him dead as much as he, right?

He said as much to her one Saturday night, a few weeks before Halloween, when she was in his room, resting in his bed and listening to him talk about his possibilities. When she didn't answer one of his questions about helping him, he had finally had enough.

"Why are you bothered by this search, Ginny?" he asked, resting on one elbow as she lay on her stomach next to him. "It seems like you don't want me to find anything."

Turning her head to him, she gazed at him with dark, worried eyes. "Of course I want you to find something. I want him gone as much as you. But..."

She fell silent, looking pale in the dim candlelight coming from his bedside table. Reaching over, he picked up his glasses from the table and slipped them on, looking carefully at her. "But what?"

"I think you're doing it for the wrong reasons," she replied softly, turning her eyes from his. She gazed down at the maroon sheets, smoothing out wrinkles as she spoke. "I know you hate him, and I know how much; but shouldn't defeating him be about helping everyone who has suffered, not just about satisfying your own hate?"

He was shocked by her words, but a large part of him agreed with everything she said. He was doing this from the rage and the hate burning inside of him; but what did that matter, as long as Voldemort was defeated? 

"Is there a right or wrong reason? I thought I just had to kill him," he said coolly.

Abruptly, she looked up, eyes flashing at him. "You're welcome to do it however you want, Harry!" she exclaimed, sitting up and sliding out of bed, sheets wrapped around her. "I'm just worried about you, but I'll stop being concerned, shall I?"

Bewildered, he got up out of bed and went over to her. "Why are you worried, though? I know what I'm doing," he said as she began to gather her clothes.

"I'm worried because you're going to destroy yourself, not just Voldemort!" she retorted, gaze burning. "All the hate you carry around inside of you is going to kill you as well. Don't you remember what Remus said?"

"Well, Remus is dead now. If I couldn't save him by caring about him, I'll save everyone else by hating. It seems to work better," he replied icily.

He thought he was dreaming, but a glimmer of tears grew at the corner of Ginny's eyes, upsetting him even more. Ginny never cried; he did not want to be the reason she did now. Gazing at her, he realized with a start how pale and thin she looked, quite the reversal from only a week ago. It frightened him somewhere in his heart, and he wanted to relieve that feeling.

She wiped her eyes quickly, obviously trying to hide her tears. "Don't you realize that's what Voldemort wants? He wants you to act out of hate because that's something he can fight and win against! It's the only thing he knows in his twisted mind other than revenge and power. You're doing exactly what he wants."

Shaking his head, he stepped closer to her. "I'm not like him, you know that. It's a different kind of feeling," he said quietly, trying to reassure her.

She made her way to him, clothes still bunched in her arms. "Hate is always the same when it comes down to it, Harry. You have to remember that there is some good in the world, not just pain and suffering. And the good is worth fighting for," she said sadly.

Putting his arms around her, he pulled her to him. "Don't leave; I'm sorry I made you angry, but don't leave," he pleaded into her ear, wanting her looking healthy and warm in his arms, not this paleness he had just discovered. Her words didn't dent his resolve; he knew what he was doing.

She shook her head, all the while sinking into his arms. "I'm tired; I feel very tired," she murmured, resting her head on his shoulder.

He stood with her for a moment, feeling her go limp against him as the clothes in her arms fell to their feet. With one smooth motion he lifted her off her feet and set her back into bed, covering her with the blankets and watching her. He saw the beginnings of dark circles below her eyes, the frailness of her limbs, the grey, pale skin; she looked as if she was suffering from illness, yet he knew she hadn't been to Madam Pomfrey to look at anything.

She would go tomorrow, he decided, and they would put this argument behind them.

Ginny did not go to Madam Pomfrey as planned, instead slipping away from Harry as he slept to go and study with Hermione. She said nothing to him all day, and barely kissed his cheek in parting when she retired to her dormitory that evening. Ron asked what was going on with her, but Harry couldn't answer and Hermione wouldn't say.

It made for a very gloomy start to Monday the next morning. Harry woke up late, having been up finishing an essay for Professor Dumbledore, and didn't see Ginny at all at breakfast. Nor did he see her in the corridors between classes. In fact, he hadn't seen her at all when lunch came around, which was very odd; usually he saw her at least once between classes. He stayed behind to walk her to lunch from her Defense class, but she didn't come out with her classmates, and after ten minutes of waiting, he went down to the Great Hall.

"Have you seen Ginny?" he asked as he sat down next to Hermione and Ron, who were already eating.

Ron looked up, eyes narrowed. "Weren't you going to walk her down here?"

"She didn't come out of class," Harry replied, reaching over for a plate of chicken.

Swallowing a bit of food, Hermione glanced at Harry with a great amount of concern. "Maybe she's in her dormitory; I'll go check on her," she said, grabbing her rucksack and heading out of the Great Hall.

Ron put down his fork. "She's never done this before, not since her first year," he said quietly. "I hope nothing's wrong."

Harry felt something seize up inside of him, but he controlled his urge to race after Hermione, only continuing to eat. There couldn't be anything wrong with Ginny, not after everything she had gone through. She may have looked a bit unwell last night, but that could have been a trick of the light from his candle, or a passing little cough. It was nothing serious. It couldn't be serious.

Continuing to look at Harry, Ron nudged him. "You said she was all right, now. After the spell," he commented, ears going pink at the mention of the spell.

Glancing at his friend, Harry was surprised. He and Ron had never talked about what he and Ginny had done; Hermione said that he had been fine with it. It just seemed too uncomfortable to deal with. "She is all right, Ron. We did everything right," he said.

Ron looked at him for a silent moment, then turned back to his food. "You've treated her right, Harry; thank you," he said gruffly, shoving a roll into his mouth.

Eyebrows up, Harry smiled faintly. "There's nothing to thank; she deserves everything."

There was a clatter at the doors to the Great Hall, and Hermione came racing in, running straight to Harry. Her eyes were wide, her face pale. "Harry, you've got to come! Hurry!" she exclaimed.

Panic filled him, and he lead Hermione and Ron out of the hall, rucksacks left unnoticed. He sped through the corridors, took the stairs two at a time, and nearly leapt right through the Fat Lady, who was flabbergasted at the sight. Ron had barely spoken the password when Harry ran through to the common room.

"Where is she?" he wheezed, a stitch throbbing in his ribs.

Hermione, hard for breath, pointed up the stairs to the girls' dormitory. Without another word he raced up the stairs three at a time, pushing his muscles to their limit, and finally reached the seventh-years' room.

"Ginny?" he called breathlessly as he walked in, eyes searching the room. A little figure huddled in the fetal position on one of the beds halted him in his tracks, red hair fanned across the pillow as she shook with a coughing fit. Harry couldn't breathe for a moment as he looked at her, images of death filling his mind. She couldn't be dying, she just couldn't...

The girl turned her head, and he saw her dark brown eyes water. "Harry..." she murmured, clenching her fists.

The sound of her voice broke him from his thoughts and sent him straight to her side. Wrapping his arms around her, he cradled her against him, robes opening with the movement. "Ginny, what's wrong? Have you been to Madam Pomfrey?" he asked, voice soothing and quiet.

She shook her head, shivering though she was fully dressed, and began to cough. He pulled her closer to his chest, looking up as Hermione and Ron walked in. Ron's eyes widened in shock. "What happened?" he exclaimed.

"I don't know, she won't say anything. Did she say anything to you?" Harry asked Hermione as Ginny's coughs faded into uneven breathing.

Hermione shook her head. "No; she told me yesterday that she didn't feel well, but I didn't see a huge problem," she said weakly.

"Harry, what's on your shirt?" Ron asked abruptly.

Looking down, Harry saw his spotless white uniform shirt speckled red in the front, right where Ginny had her face as she was coughing. Panic struck him, and he looked down at Ginny's face. Her lips were flecked with red; he put a finger to her mouth and tested the fluid.

He tasted the metallic tang of blood.

For a moment he was in shock, not aware of his surroundings, only aware of the girl in his arms. The girl who was coughing up blood.

Then he did the only thing he could do.

He ran.

When Ginny had woken up that morning, she hadn't expected to feel so wretched. Her head was throbbing, her eyes burned, and there was a deep pain in her chest that made her heart skip and her lungs wheeze. She was coughing so hard her throat began to get irritated. Her roommates expressed their concern, and promised to get her homework if she stayed in bed, and she took them up on their offer, hoping bed rest was she really needed. But by lunch she felt barely lucid, and almost didn't register being in Harry's arms as he sprinted through the castle, Ron and Hermione close behind.

The ache in her head had never truly gone away since it arrived; she tried everything she could think of, even asking Hermione for Muggle remedies, but nothing relieved the pain for good. It was hard to get through her days; she felt tired a lot of the time, which made it hard to stay alert in class. Professor McGonagall kept her after class one day to ask about her, but what could she say? She thought it would pass, eventually.

Now she was cold and hot at the same time, jouncing along in Harry's arms, and feeling as if nothing could be worse than this feeling. There was a metallic taste on her tongue; she knew it to be her own blood. But what had brought about this illness? She had no idea.

As soon as Harry raced into the Hospital Wing, she was the primary concern. She was too tired to speak, which frustrated the nurse to no end, since Harry, Ron, and Hermione could tell her nothing about Ginny's symptoms. When Harry set her down on the bed and said something about getting Dumbledore, she went to sleep, trying to forget the pain of her body.

When she awoke, it was to the rising fury of Harry's voice against Dumbledore's calming tones. She opened her heavy eyelids, feeling the pain in her chest increase as her breathing sped up, and glanced around the room. Hermione and Ron were sitting on either side of her, pale and strained. Harry was standing at the foot of her bed, face dark with anger, and talking with the headmaster, who was standing a few feet from her bed with a distraught Madam Pomfrey.

"Harry, please calm down. This is not helping Ginny right now," Dumbledore said patiently, eyes crinkled with worry.

"Standing here and watching isn't helping her, either! What's wrong with her?" Harry asked, eyes murderous.

All eyes turned to Madam Pomfrey, who could only shake her head helplessly. "I've never seen this before, in all my years. I checked her chest, but I didn't find anything malignant! Her lungs and her heart seem to be just fine. I don't understand where this is coming from," she said.

The line of Harry's mouth disappeared completely as his fists clenched. He turned away from the adults. Ginny could see the profile of his face, and was shocked to see his well-constructed mask begin to crumble; his rage and pain was clear in his eyes. She wanted to help him, wanted to make his pain go away, but she could barely keep her eyes open; she was too tired to speak.

"Maybe this isn't coming from Ginny's physical body," Hermione said softly, her small voice startling everyone.

"What do you mean, Hermione?" Ron asked quickly.

Hermione glanced around the room, eyes halting at Harry's turned back. "Maybe the protection spell didn't completely work," she said.

There was silence in the small group. Ginny felt a strange sort of realization swallow her; no wonder she had felt so odd as they had performed the spell. And Tom had been inside her when she found out about it; what if her attempts to block him had failed? And he had found out? Paved the way for his return...

"Impossible. She would have told me if he could still go into her mind," Harry replied shortly, back still turned.

"I'm not saying it didn't work to some extent, Harry. I'm just saying, what if Voldemort had found out about the plan, and made sure he could still reach some part of her, even if it was only a tiny part," Hermione said just as curtly. "It's possible; she had him inside her when you told her, didn't she?"

Harry's face tightened as Dumbledore spoke up. "We have to find out if he knew, which means we must wake Ginny up. Only she can tell us the truth of it," he said calmly.

Ginny struggled to lift her head, a gasp leaving her throat as she did. The whole group jumped, startled, and Ron grasped her limp hand in his. Harry's eyes met hers, and her heart broke to see his anxiety, his sense of guilt; he thought he had failed her, brought her to this state. It was more guilt to compound the rest, festering inside of him and looking to break free.

"Ginny, can you hear us?" Hermione said softly. Ron could not speak; he only squeezed her hand, squeezing tightly enough to crush it, but she didn't mind.

Slowly, she nodded, hoping that her voice would not fail her. Dumbledore came forward a few steps, a soothing smile on his face. It calmed her, however forced it might be. "Ginny, did you hear us earlier?" he asked quietly.

Again, she nodded, heart pounding painfully. Dumbledore looked down at her gravely. "Do you know if Voldemort knew of this plan before you performed the spell?" he asked quietly.

She tried to find some sort of voice, even as her mind screamed for silence. She didn't want to feel the blame for this, didn't need more pain than she had already. The sense of failure was overwhelming her; she knew that Tom had doomed her to his possession, one way or another.

"He... He could have..." she said hoarsely, the sound of her own voice startling her. "I remember... I remember him making my head hurt, as if he were digging into me."

"Oh, Ginny, why didn't you tell anyone?" Hermione asked sadly.

Ginny shook her head weakly, berating her own stupidity as she spoke. "It felt the same as every other time," she said softly.

Harry looked at the headmaster, having finally gained control of his face. "What can we do?" he asked.

Dumbledore could only shake his head. "We don't know what's wrong, Harry; I don't know how to help her."

Eyes glued to Harry, Ginny could only watch as his helplessness and anger overwhelmed him, filling his eyes and driving every other feeling from his face. She wanted to reach out to him, but before she could say a word, he was gone. He walked out of the Hospital Wing, fists clenched at his side, back completely straight.

Hermione and Ron looked at each other in surprise as Dumbledore let out a long sigh and turned back to Ginny. "Rest assured, I will do everything in my power to help you, Ginny. I will talk to anyone who might be of help, and I will assist you," he said firmly.

Ginny tried to smile in thanks, but her heart wouldn't let her. Her eyes kept drifting towards the doors of the wing, and as Ron and Hermione left her side to speak with the headmaster, she felt tears in her eyes.

Suddenly, she felt very alone.

It was happening to him again. He could barely believe it, but he reckoned he should be used to it by now. Another person he cared for was being hurt by Voldemort.

Except this time, it was the person he cared for most of all.

Harry should have known it was too good to be true for Ginny to be all right, not after all the trouble they had gone through. He hadn't been paying enough attention to her and how she felt; maybe if he had, she would be ok.

But it had started with the protection spell. He just hadn't been powerful enough to save her. Voldemort had trumped him again, defeating him and claiming another victim, a victim he had been waiting for. Harry just couldn't save her.

It was his fault she was sick.

It was his fault, just as everything else had been his fault.

His parents.

Sirius.

Remus.

Cedric.

And now Ginny.

All because of him and that bloody prophecy. They were all victims of him and his fate.

Anger filled him as he sat in the Great Hall, staring at an untouched plate of food. He couldn't eat his dinner; how was he supposed to eat when Ginny was in the Hospital Wing, possibly dying?

Dying.

If she died...

He would have nothing left. His plans for a future would be brushed aside; he could never have any sort of life without Ginny. It was completely unthinkable.

A solitary brown owl flew into the hall and landed in front of him, gazing placidly into his empty gaze. Without any curiosity, he took the letter from its leg, and it immediately flew off again, causing whispers throughout the hall.

Harry gazed at the envelope, seeing only his name on the front. Methodically, he ripped it open, not even wondering who could be sending him any post at a time like this. Unfolding the letter, his heart stopped beating as his eyes traveled the words.

Now you know the power of the Dark Lord. Virginia Weasley is going to die, and there is nothing you can do to stop it. She is completely at the Dark Lord's mercy. There is no hope left for you, Harry Potter.

Clenching his fist, Harry stood from the table, jaw tightened. The letter crumpled in his hand as he walked out of the Great Hall, heading straight for the library. Hate and anger filled him, creating a storm inside him, waiting to break free.

Voldemort had to pay for this, even if it took his own life. Ginny wouldn't die, not if he had anything to say about it.

A/N: Thanks to my beta Anne! She's grand. We're down to the last couple of chapters, folks! Be on the lookout.