Ginny Weasley:

The Lion-Snake Prophecies

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter … I merely worship JKR!

Chapter Four

That night, Ginny dreamed.

She dreamed she was standing on the edge of a bridge. It was the kind of wild, ancient swinging bridge she had seen once in a muggle movie; wooden planks held together by old, rotting string, extending across some gigantic chasm that stretched downward into the farthest reaches of the earth. Casting her eyes across the length of the bridge itself, Ginny saw that where it ended and green earth should have stood again, there was instead a roaring wall of fire, a burning inferno that promised only a very painful death.

Ginny waited for the terror, for the fear to rise up inside of her as it always had before. Ginny remembered, in the sudden way one does in dreams, that she had dreamt of this particular image before. Always in the past had her unconscious mind automatically rejected the image for what it was, the picture of a certain and agonizing death.

But this time, something had changed. The fire was no longer frightening, instead it triggered a new type of feeling in Ginny's heart … a sort of familiarity that she found at once strange and inspiring. Though she still feared the old, rotting bridge, the bottomless chasm and thus the journey itself, the destination now intrigued her. Curiously, Ginny found herself wondering what it would be like to reach the fire, to feel the hot flames licking across her skin …

But the question was, was she curious enough to risk the journey? Ginny cast her eyes doubtfully across the scenario before her, the fraying rope and cracked wood, and in her mind Ginny knew the answer to be not quite ready yet …

… and then she was sitting up in bed, freezing though still under the covers, her hand already grasping for the wand that would protect her against whatever had awakened her.

Until Ginny realized where she was and that the use of her wand would probably get her expelled from school. Smiling, Ginny let her back fall once again among the pillows. The downy softness embraced her, and even as she began to wonder as to the meaning of the rotting bridge, the memory of the dream was leaving her, slipping upside-down and sideways through the cracks in her mind and leaving only the softness of her pillow and the secure feeling of the blanket about her shoulders. It was still dark outside, her mind sleepily reminded her, and she had plenty of time before mum called her downstairs for breakfast …

Ginny groaned; the memory of Harry surfacing harsh against the softness of her pillow. She had told him to meet her at the old paddock at five, and it wouldn't do for him to be waiting there for her. Ginny cracked one eye opened and scanned the room for her clock, the twin hands nestled peacefully together at precisely six-thirty a.m.

Ginny shot out of bed, already reaching for her clothes, when she belatedly realized there was a bright white note stuck to the bottom of her clock. Fearing the worst, Ginny walked slowly towards the message, only to read that it was from the Twins who, playing around with a new potion, had accidentally countered the charm on her clock and moved it two hours ahead. Ginny frowned, for that charm was linked to its owner and should have been nearly impossible to break, but the relief at not having missed her own appointment with Harry was too great to remain upset at the twins. There would definitely have to be some quality payback later however, though if she and Harry got this settled out now they would never know why she had been so upset in the first place.

Several ideas already forming in her mind, Ginny, quietly as she could, removed a pair of clean slacks, a t-shirt and a large jumper from her dresser. She knew from previous early mornings that it was always rather fresh around the Burrow, and especially in the paddock. From her dresser she took a hair elastic and quickly pulled her mass of red hair back into a ponytail. Reaching down into a little box beside her bed, Ginny took out a piece of left-over bacon, and tapped it lightly against Hiss's nose. He had taken to sleeping next to her in bed, claiming the soft fabric was more comfortable than his own burrow, and though at first Ginny was terrified of somebody finding out, no one bothered entering her room anymore. Mum usually called from downstairs, and long gone were the days when Ron would burst into her room and pounce on her bed. The thought would have saddened her, had she not had Hiss around to soften the blow.

The last nudge finally got his attention. Before even opening his eyes, Hiss tested the air with his tongue, and promptly shot awake at the tantalizing smell of left-over bacon. Taking the piece unceremoniously from her hand, Hiss blinked morning snake-eyes at her, but kept wisely silent.

Ginny smiled at him and gestured that, if he still wanted to come, he ought to crawl onto her leg. Not wasting his time, for surely he did not want to get left behind, Hiss quickly slithered down off the bed and slipped under Ginny's left pant leg. Once she was sure he was secured, Ginny carefully opened her door and slipped down the stairs.

She paused in the kitchen for a minute to take a bagel from the bread box and debated toasting on the stove, when the creak of a floorboard stopped her. Listening carefully, Ginny could hear someone moving on one of the upstairs landings. Bets were ten-to-one that it was Harry, which meant that if she wanted to be waiting for him, she had better hurry.

The air was cool and dark when she stepped outside, Hiss still tight against her leg. There was dew on the grass and only the barest hint of morning from the east. It would be light soon enough however, Ginny knew, though the stars still shone faintly overhead. Eating her bagel quickly, Ginny let her feet follow their familiar trail to the paddock, watching the woods around her for any sign of Moody or Tonks.

Everything was quiet, so she assumed the two Aurors were confident enough in Dumbledore's protection spells not to impose a morning walk-around. The paddock itself was never silent, birds chirped early morning hellos and all manner of creatures slithered and hopped through the tall meadow grasses, but those sights and sounds were now so familiar to the young witch that they barely even registered.

Setting up shop, Ginny made her way to the tall oak and rested her back against it, leaving her hands crossed casually across her middle, her eyes watching for any sign of Harry's arrival. A certain thrill of … well not quite excitement, but something nearer to finality rose within her. Ginny could not deny that she had been waiting for a chance to have it out with Harry; a chance to beat some sense into that boy-sized brain of his. It wasn't just the frustrated opinion's of a heart-sick young girl – though Ginny could not deny that had been her only a few short years ago – but the intense need to understand why he leapt to the conclusions he did. Could he honestly say that – after tormenting himself endless about the possibility of being possessed by Voldemort – he had never, not even once, decided to ask the one person he knew who had already been through the experience?

Ginny could believe, if Harry were still the same young innocent he had been two summers ago, that he had indeed forgotten. That he had seen her for the past four years as merely Ron's little sister, and not some poor dupe who had been too silly and too stupid to defend herself against Voldemort. But that was no longer Harry; and perhaps, really, it never had been. Sometime between Sirius's vaulted escape from a corrupt Ministry and Voldemort's re-emergence into the world of the truly living, Harry had left all traces of innocence behind. He realized instead now the harsh realities of this world. Of course, that hadn't made him any smarter, any more cautious. He had rushed into the Department of Mysteries, yelled at his best friends, and ignored any piece of advice anyone had ever bestowed upon him. For once, Ginny found herself feeling sorry for Professor Snape. For years no one had believed him, but he had been right all along: Harry was a spoiled little boy. No spoiled like Malfoy, with money and jewels – for Ginny had overheard him telling Ron about what life was like, living with the Dursley's – but he was spoiled in the sense that every problem he had yet to face in the wizarding world he had solved. He had saved the Philosopher's Stone when the entire staff of Hogwarts couldn't protect it, had defeated Tom Riddle where she could not, saved Sirius from Azkaban where Dumbledore had been helpless to act, and won the Triwizard Tournament from wizards and witches older and more experienced than he. Really, when one thought about it, there was no mission or adventure that had proven more than he, Harry Potter, could handle. Until the Department of Mysteries disaster. Ginny still remembered the gleam in Hermione's voice, her eyes, as she had whispered to Ginny all of the adventures the three of them had undertaken each year. From Sirius himself had Ginny learned about the Golden Trio's third adventure. The same gleam had been in Sirius's eye, the pride that shone through whenever he described Harry.

That pride wasn't gone now, nor was it even diminished, but a slight fear had appeared behind it in Hermione's voice, and it had been present ever since Harry's blow up last summer at Headquarters. He was growing up, changing, and the rest of them weren't quite sure what to do about it. The DA had helped; it had released the strain a little, though Ginny knew that fighting real deatheaters and merely practicing against them were totally different things.

And now, finally, he was turning on her and Ginny – unlike the rest of them – was not afraid to let him have it. So he seemed all tough, did he? He could yell and scream all he liked, couldn't he? She'd show him.

And now she had the chance. Finally. Ginny waited, watching the dew-soaked grass as morning slowly came to Britain, for any sign of the black-haired boy.

Finally there was movement near the house. In the dim twilight she couldn't see if it was a man or a gnome, making its way stealthily towards the house. Ginny itched to let Hiss have a peak, his eye sight was much better than hers, but Harry was a Seeker – a good one at that – and would probably have seen the movement.

A few moments later though, the shape was moving carefully as if trying its best not to be seen or heard, and Ginny was sure it was Harry. It was just too big for a garden gnome and Dumbledore's spells would have kept anything else away.

She stayed where she was, though, back resting casually against the oak tree, her hands hidden between her arms, crossed against her chest. There was no reason for her to pretend she was concerned, for she truly wasn't in the least. Instead there burned that slightly eager feeling …

A pair of bright green eyes searched the paddock, and when they stopped to rest upon her own deep brown, they stopped. Harry still stood perhaps twenty feet away, but his eyes were locked onto her own, and his wand was in his right hand, pointed directly at her. His reflexes were so quick that Ginny hadn't even seen his arm move.

Yeah right, Ginny snorted to herself, like the Boy-Who-Lived is going to give up his entire future just to cast a little hex at me. Ginny waited for him to lower his wand, and when, after a few moments, neither of them had moved, Ginny slowly let her arms drop from her sides, and turned them palm-upwards to show them they were empty.

"I didn't bring my wand," she said amusedly, her voice carrying in the quiet of the morn, "just what do you think this is, Harry?"

He didn't answer at first, but when he did, his aim hadn't shifted, "I don't know, Ginny," he said, and his voice was cold with her name sounding more like a curse than a name, "what exactly is this?"

Ginny smiled, but only to herself. She had already said that she wasn't afraid of him, and it still held true. Deliberately turning her back towards him, she turned and lowered herself comfortably onto the wet grass, feeling the slight dew creep up her back.

"Just a friendly conversation," she said, "to see what the hell your problem was and get it cleared up before someone – like my brother – realized something was wrong."

Harry still hadn't moved, but his voice was slightly less patronizing, "Ron already knows what this is about. He didn't believe me."

So that had been why Ron was so upset before dinner. Ginny had wondered … "How … thoughtful … of him," Ginny said, trying to catch the sarcasm that had escaped in her voice, "He always seemed to think so highly of me."

Another moment of tense silence. Ginny waited for him to lower his wand, but after a minute gave up, "Oh come on already! What the bloody hell is the matter with you? What exactly am I supposed to have done?"

Harry paused. He seemed to be considering her, his eyes tried to bore into her soul, but he hadn't quite gotten the knack of it yet. He should have asked Tom for some pointers.

Finally he lowered the wand, but didn't put it away, as he stomped across the distance that separated them to stand only a few feet away. It was only then that Ginny realized he clutched a letter of some kind in his left hand. Extending it towards her with a disgusted noise he accused, "You say you have done nothing, so explain this to me then!"

Ginny rose from her seated position to take the sheet of paper from his hand. It was thick and rich, with a delicate weave and written with a neat hand. A wax seal had been broken on its top and bottom edges, and scanning the words with a slowly developing sense of dread, Ginny read.

Dear Harry,

I am sorry to have to write this in letter form. I wished to present this information to you personally, but the enemy has me constantly under surveillance and I fear this is the only way to warn you. I have sent this letter with my most trusted friend, and pray that you have received it swiftly.

Harry, I must implore you not to trust Ginevra Weasley. New information has reached my ears that implicates her in the attack against Hermione Granger. It appears that Ginny was responsible for re-activating the curse set against her. I know you may not want to hear this information, and though it pains me I must ask you not to share it with anyone. I expect that Ginny is being – unwittingly, perhaps – influenced by the enemy. It appears that she never fully recovered from her episode in the Chamber of Secrets, and that her mind was left somehow opened to enemy's control.

I believe that He will order an attack against you this summer. I am going to send you to the Weasley's for the rest of the summer, Moody and Tonks will escort you, but I am doing this only to resist the chance of discovery. The enemy must not know that we have discovered his new secret weapon. I ask that you mention the contents of this letter to no one, especially Ginny's family, for her safety as well as your own.

I will see you in September; the best of fortune until then,

Sincerely,

Professor Albus Dumbledore

Ginny's hands were white as she held the paper. Harry's voice intruded upon her utmost fears, "It was delivered by Fawkes, so there can be so chance of forgery."

She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. So here we go again! She thought with an inward laugh of pain and terror, all of my worrying, preparing and it comes down to this, possessed without ever knowing!

Wait a minute …

"No, no wait – this can't be true!" Ginny's voice was shaking, but with relief or fear she couldn't tell. "Dumbledore, he told me, after my first year, that I was safe, that I knew the signs now, and wouldn't be caught again …"

Harry cut her off, his voice ice cold again, "Obviously you missed the signs; that, or your working for him directly –"

But Ginny shook her head, "No you idiot," and his eyes flashed at the insult, "let me finish. He said that if I ever suspected of being enchanted again, that there was this spell I could do, a charm kind of, that would let me find out for sure. I … I just have to perform it before going to sleep at night and I can walk, well travel I guess, through my own mind, and look for signs of 'recent passage'." Ginny shook her head, an odd humour possessing her. "Whatever the bloody hell that means."
Harry looked doubtful, the strange morning shadows playing across his handsome face, "A charm?" he asked, apparently making some kind of decision. Lowering his wand, he held her gaze with his own, "Fine. If you're telling me the truth, then we can find out tonight. We'll perform the spell and travel – together – into your head."

Ginny took a step back and spoke without even realizing it. Her voice was a low growl, "Never."

Harry looked at her dangerously, "What?"

"Never!" Ginny shook her head, "I'll never let you into my mind, not you! Get Ron, or … or Hermione, if you've already told them."

But Harry shook his head, "No. You could still be lying, I won't risk anyone else but myself."

Ginny's voice was still a growl, her mind, unbidden, recalling the words of the prophecy, "Then you're a fool."

Harry glared at her, "Perhaps. But fool or not we're doing this tonight; otherwise I'm going to assume that you're lying and report you to Mad-Eye Moody."

Moody. Ginny could already see the doubt in his eye, which would be replaced, very swiftly, but complete confidence in Harry's tale. He was the Boy-Who-Lived, with the backing this time of Dumbledore. Could she honestly think he would take her word over theirs, especially since she had once been duped by Voldemort?

No, never. It would be that nightmare come true, the one she had had repeated the summer after first year. It was always in some dungeon far down in the Department of Magic, Fudge sat before her in a giant chair and without fanfare or ceremony declared her the enemy of the free wizarding world and promptly snapped her wand in two. Ginny had watched the beautiful moon calf hair slide to the ground, its magic growing paler as it settled on the cold, hard floor. Men had grabbed her then, forcefully, and pulled her from the room. They took her to a dark, small box, and though she screamed and resisted, they folded her legs against her chest and shut her up inside the box. It was pitch black and cold, and Ginny had screamed and cried and pounded against the sides, which was usually the state her mum found her in the middle of the night, crying until the tears ran dry and screaming until her lungs gave out. She never had been able to get back to sleep after that particular nightmare.

Ginny opened her eyes, she realized only then that they had been squeezed tightly shut, enduring the horrible screams that had been her own, screams which still echoed in the deepest reaches of her mind. And Harry wanted to go in there? She would have laughed if she'd been any less terrified.

"Fine," she said, and her voice was shaking. Harry was watching her, impassively. "Fine." She said a bit stronger, "You want a tour; I'll give you the gold standard! Whether you come back sane or not is beyond my control. Hey – wait a minute …" Ginny took a step back and stared at Harry, "We can't do a charm here, we're not at school, we'll get expelled for sure …"

But Harry shook his head, "You're dad's going to make an announcement to the family today at breakfast. The wizarding age limit for practicing magic outside of school has been lowered by a year. Mundungus let it slip when he picked me up."

"That's right, he came in with you … but, but I thought the letter said that Tonks ..."

"Just because he got one detail wrong doesn't mean it isn't true," Harry said, his voice cold. "That we'll find out tonight, now won't we?"

Ginny thought for a minute. If the wizarding age limit had been dropped, that meant Harry, Ron and Hermione could all practice magic outside of school. She quickly squashed the burning thread of jealousy that rose within her; that meant only one more year until she too would be a real witch. Fine. That just meant they had a little more room for leeway.

Ginny looked back into Harry's gaze. "All right, but one more thing. Before we do this, I want you to perform a binding charm. We'll link all the extra information you gleam from my head to a trigger word; you won't be able to tell anyone – not even Ron or Hermione, or Dumbledore for that matter – what you see, hear or find. All you'll be able to report – of your own freewill – is if I'm "guilty, or "innocent". The rest will remain a secret you won't be able to talk about unless I give you explicit permission too."

Harry seemed to consider this. He had to realize how important her privacy was to her … sure enough, after a moment he agreed. "All right, we can look for the charm this afternoon." He paused for a moment, and then a hint of apology etched into his voice, "Ron doesn't believe me. He swears there's no way you could do anything of the sort."

Ginny felt the distant brush of tears against her eyes. When the urge passed, she found her voice and asked, "Why did you tell him anyways? Or me for that matter?'

"I wanted them to be warned, in case something happened. And as for telling you, Ron swore he'd never speak to me again unless I at least gave you a chance to prove you hadn't done anything. I think …" he paused, an odd note in his voice, " … if you … if was you who hurt Hermione … I don't think he'll ever forgive you."

Ginny smiled, she couldn't help it. "He won't; he cares for her safety too much."

Harry nodded, slowly, "They're … getting close, aren't they?"

Ginny shivered, suddenly cold, and realized that the adrenaline rush that had filled her as she read the letter had left her. She opened her mouth to answer Harry's question, but he noticed her chill, and cut her off.

"Never mind, let's – let's just get back to the Burrow. It's probably almost time for breakfast anyways."

It would be actually, Ginny realized. The sky had lightened as they talked, and the dew had almost completely evaporated from the grass. Pulling her sweater down over her chilled hands, Ginny nodded at Harry and the two of them set off back towards the Burrow, a sense not of companionship, but of reduced wariness between them.

Harry, Ginny noted, had finally put his wand back in his pocket. Somehow, that gave her the tiniest bit of hope that maybe; just perhaps, this little expedition would turn out okay. Perhaps even, it would be some kind of turning point, for the better.

Hiss tightened twice on her ankle and Ginny had the distinct impression it had been in warning against too happy thoughts. Dimming her own expectations, she silently followed Harry into the house.

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There, I changed a few things here and there. Mainly the point where Harry can only release "extra" information with Ginny's permisson. It didn't make much sense before, did it? Lol.

Another thanks to NymphPatronusfor ALSO reminding me to update. I will - I will!!! Just .. give me time.

Read On, my friends. And FEED THE BUTTON!!!

(review review review!)