CHAPTER 4

It was when she reached the stone gargoyle that led up to Dumbledore's office that the belated realization that she would need a password sank in. She stood there for a moment, curses frozen behind her teeth, and then slammed her fist into the door of the classroom across the way. How dare he? Her own brother call her a--no better than trash! That he would be so blind now, not even when his emotions and loyalties were tangled as they had been when it came to her and Harry. Gods and friggn' angels.

But bloodied knuckles aside, Ginny felt better. Sinking into a crouch by the foot of the gargoyle, she tried to think. Vaguely she remembered Ron saying it was Dumbledore's favorite candy at the time—wouldn't hurt to try at any rate.

"Mint Mice?" Asked Ginny and the gargoyle peered down at her, amused. "Maybe not," She thought some more, tossing out random guesses at random, "Licorice wands? Sugar Quills?"

"Say it with conviction dear," Encouraged a near portrait of an elderly woman who was nursing the end of a long licorice with relish.

"Sugar Quills." The gargoyle moved aside to admit her to a winding stair. "Thanks!" Ginny called over her shoulder and set off at a trot with Lance at her heels.

She climbed until she reached a large oak door with a heavy gold handle on it. Maneuvering the lever quietly, she tiptoed into the office and looked around.

There had been something that always bothered her,that she had to see before she could believe it real. Godric Gryffindor's sword, that which had carved out the mouth and sprayed her with a fine misting of its blood, pebbling on her skin. Never mind who'd wielded it, never mind Tom or Harry, the sword had saved her.

In the center of the circular study stood a desk with an empty cage and a few odds and ends on it heaped in tidy mountains. Against the walls stood bookshelves sagging with their burdens, rows of parchment, books, grim moirés, and thousand of baubles that she had no name for.

A crystal ball sat in a pestle-like object on his desk. Mist gathered and swirled in its depths, flashing green and gold lights twisting through like kami-kazi fireflies, pressing themselves up against the glass and extinguishing to respawn inwards.

Lance darted up, placed a paw on the table, and delivered a sound thwack that reverberated throughout the room. The crystal jumped and fell, rolling, into Ginny's palm. Grimacing, she glared at the dog who began to unabashedly lick his unmentionables.

The glare faded into a yawn and when she blinked, stars erupted behind her closed lids. Ginny was standing beside a boy no more surprised than she by her sudden appearance. She could feel the sea breeze on her cheek and the salty tang of the air stinging her throat. The sea's damp immediately set to work on her hair, curling it from a long amber braid into an impossible frizz.

"Oh, you're one of those. Okay!" Ginny didn't have to question him about those before he began firing questions at her. "Ma'am? Have you seen m' dog?"

Ginny turned and took stock of him, from his sunburnt cheeks and his flyaway red hair to his sweet child's smile. No more than twelve if a day and with a marked resemblance to Fred and George's childhood photos. A caution to be sure, but the witch felt her lips twitching into an easy smile.

"What does he look like hon?" She asked, vaguely surprised at how her own voice bore a strange likeness to her mother's.

"He's 'bou this high..." He waved his arms in the air, right about level to Ginny's waist. "He's only a pup really. Kinda bronzy? Like a the color of a pound." Ginny's heart froze. It couldn't be Lance, could it? "He's one of the five pups me old bitch bore yest' fortnight. Anywise,'s just that he's a pup an'…"

Ginny nodded kindly, wondering how to phrase her response, "Well, you see, I found a dog, a puppy really," At this the boy's eyes lit up.

"In'na your land?" Ginny hesitated, then nodded. "Good, then can you do me a favor?"

"It depends," admitted Ginny jokingly.

"Can you keep him there? Me Mum an' I 'ave our hands full with the other four tha' we can't really take care of them good."

"Well." Ginny corrected mindlessly, considering her options rapidly. While she would love to have the dog, she couldn't keep him on school grounds.

But somehow she got the feeling that Dumbledore had known where Lance had come from, and had urged her to name him instead. Naming was something that generally fostered affection… Her mind seemed to be running on a hamster wheel, tripping on the spokes until her feet were over her head and she found herself nodding.

"I think I could manage at that. My name's Ginny."

"Mine's Pierre," the boy answered promptly, grinning widely, "Here, I'll show you the way back. All you have to do is jump of the pier and out to sea. Got it?" Ginny nodded, surprised by his abruptness.

"Go quickly," Shadows were coalescing behind him but he barely spared them a glance until they began to move. When he did look at them, it was a distant kind of fear flickering in his eyes and an odd yearning.

Torn, she reached for her wand but he pushed her back. "Pierre?"

"G'bye Ginny. Take care of m' little lantern-fly." From within the folds of his clothes, the boy extracted a long set of pipes.

Lights began to dance on the edge of her vision, and her sight began to narrow yet…yet she could have sworn that there were two great pillars of light before her. A hand shoved her backwards and with a cry she fell from the dock to be swallowed into the frothing abyss. Pipes echoed over head and fireflies spun her head with talk of death and life.