Notes:Thanks, Mea and Jesser, for the relentless complaints about the commas. Haha! Quite a lot of you may have expected the scenario in this chapter to happen. I should know -- I hang out a lot in the Orange Crush. :)
In her dream, Ginny was eleven years old again and she was retracing familiar steps through the dark, empty corridors of Hogwarts. She understood why she was there somehow, and yet, though she wanted so badly to go back to the warm comfort of her bed, an invisible force insisted on making her move—a force she was unable to fight. The force was inside her mind, strangling her will, so that she wanted to obey it. It did not coerce her to take the path towards the girls' bathroom; in fact, as much as she resisted being controlled, letting that force take over her being was so simple that she could easily fall into it and let go....
As part of her wits struggled to free herself from the reins that had gotten hold of it, it suddenly closed upon a name: Tom. It was he who was doing this to her. She struggled harder—she didn't want him to control her!—she didn't want him to kill—to kill—
"Tom, let me go!" she tried to yell, but her mouth could only move without a sound. The force inside her, however, heard it.
"What's the matter, Virginia?" Tom said. His voice was like cold breath upon her neck. "I thought you had given yourself to me..."
"No...I haven't..." she said, but her words seemed to fade into the depths of her mind. Tom was taking over again. She felt her cold hands lock behind her; her feet that she had tried to plant firmly on the ground were moving again.
"You've let me use you," Tom went on. There was a cruel laugh hiding in the voice. "You told me you'd let me use yourself to get Harry Potter..."
Harry...
"NO!" Ginny's voice suddenly rung out in the dark hallway. "You won't get him—I won't let you!"
Tom laughed—a cold, cruel, high-pitched laugh that didn't sound like the handsome sixteen-year-old he had been. "Why, I thought you just had, Virginia..."
In her mind's eye, the Tom Riddle that had let her see him through the diary smiled—but it was different from the charming, kind smile she had known. It was...cruel...evil. Purely evil.
And suddenly she was drowning again...drowning into Tom Riddle. The last remnants of resistance left her. When she spoke again, it was of a different language.
And then she was falling. She didn't have to scream. She was going to face a slow death but she unknowingly, yet willingly embraced it...
Ginny awoke with a jerk, panting and clutching the sheets around her. She was sprawled in the middle of her four-poster bed—she wasn't falling off something, as she had felt as she was dreaming, but it took her a while to really believe it.
She sat up, still shaking, and pulled open the curtains around her bed to let in fresh air. She closed her eyes as she took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Not again, Ginny thought, wanting to be angry but couldn't, for terror was a stronger emotion at that moment. It's been so long since. She'd had dreams like this one before—worse, even—yet no matter how many times she saw, or heard, or felt him, she never got over the dread that haunted her upon waking up. She never got over the fear that what happened five years ago might happen again....
"'Morning."
Startled, Ginny whipped around to find Jane Rochford regarding her sleepily from her bed.
"Oh," Ginny mumbled, pretending to straighten out her sheets. "G'morning."
Jane was now looking at her closely. "You all right, Ginny?"
"Huh?" Ginny nonchalantly replied. She tried to gather her hair, only to find out that they were stuck to her sweaty neck. Hiding her slight surprise, she smiled at Jane. "Sure I am. What time is it?"
"Uh...twenty-five minutes to eight."
"Oh, damn," Ginny muttered. She took a towel from her bedside cabinet and bolted towards the bathroom. "I am so late for practice!"
Ten minutes later, Ginny was running flat out towards the Quidditch pitch, her broomstick clutched on one hand. She stopped right in front of Katie Bell, who scowled at her.
"Sorry—overslept—won't happen again—" Ginny apologized between deep breaths.
"I sure hope not, Ginny," said Katie. "Almost an hour late! You know we can't practice well when one's missing!"
"I know, I'm sorry."
Behind Katie, already soaring in the air, were the other players. Andrew Kirke and Jack Sloper, the Beaters, were on opposite sides of the pitch. Andrew had a Bludger hurtling towards Natalie McDonald, Ginny's fellow Chaser, and Jack was chasing after it. Ron was guarding the goal posts on Andrew's side of the pitch. Meanwhile, above them all, circling the pitch like a hawk, was Harry Potter. The practice seemed to be in full swing even without her.
"Very well," Katie said dismissively. Ginny forced her eyes back on their captain. "Take your place—oh, bloody hell, what are they doing here already?"
Katie had her eyes on something behind Ginny. Turning around, Ginny saw seven people in green robes on the stands, watching them overtly.
The other Gryffindor players seem to have noticed, too; the balls were forgotten as they started yelling at each other. Harry and Ron started to make a move towards the Slytherins when Natalie flew close to them, as though telling them to drop it.
Ginny watched as Harry recklessly wheeled his broomstick around and dove towards them. She had seen enough of Harry's flying to know that he certainly wasn't going to crash, but still, seeing his irate face as he approached made her think otherwise.
"Katie, make them go away!" Harry demanded even as he landed. "They're openly spying on us."
"No, they're not," said Katie quietly. "They reserved the pitch for eight o'clock—and you know Snape, he always gets his way—"
Ginny and Katie winced as Harry swore violently. Ginny couldn't look at Katie—if she had only arrived earlier, they would've had a better practice.
Katie sighed and raised an eyebrow at Harry. "Listen, we can still make the most of the ten minutes we have left if you go up there, now. You too, Ginny, we haven't got all day."
Ginny caught Harry give her a fleeting, exasperated look as he climbed on his Firebolt once again. Feeling slightly aggravated, she followed his lead.
"Hey, I'm sorry," Ginny said coolly, glaring at his nape. "I overslept."
Harry didn't even turn around to look back. "It's a wonder some people still oversleep nowadays," Ginny heard him mutter as he took off.
If you only knew, Ginny told him mentally, rolling her eyes as she kicked off the ground after him. Ginny knew it was one of those days, again, when Harry simply wasn't in the mood. She quite understood him actually; that was why she didn't let Harry's last comment get into her. Everybody had gotten used to Harry's bouts of anger ever since last year, and she was one of those very few who actually dared speak her mind about it. Ginny knew that her eleven-year-old self, who had had a huge crush on Harry, would be very mortified indeed if she saw her now.
And anyway, Ginny thought, the Slytherins were just insecure about the next match. Ginny knew Katie had put together a better team than last year. Natalie and Ginny proved to be good Chasers, Ron and the Beaters were more experienced, and Harry—not matter how moody he was this year—was back.
She let her thoughts leave her, however, as she flew higher, the wind raking through her hair, her robes whipping behind her. She didn't even notice the Slytherins eye her from a distance—not even as one of them stood up, wand in hand. Ten minutes of flying certainly wasn't enough—but it was a lot better than not flying at all. Soon, Ginny was in possession of the Quaffle, and her mind was off other things.
They were in the heat of practice five minutes later. Katie passed the Quaffle to Ginny. Seizing it, Ginny dodged a Bludger coming her way, letting Jack strike it towards Andrew, as she raced for the goal. Ginny was so determined to let it go through the goal hoops Ron was guarding that she didn't notice the Bludger turn a hundred and eighty degrees back at her.
"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"
Ginny vaguely heard Harry yell; he was too far and she knew his shout wasn't directed at her. Why would it be? She wasn't doing anything wrong, she was near the goal posts, and Ron looked distracted—no, he looked shocked as she approached, it must be her speed—she was near—
"GINNY!" Ron bellowed.
Crack.
The Bludger hit Ginny at the back of her head. Her eyesight blackened even as the wave of pain washed through her. There was something else pounding within her head, making the pain worse. Her head was going to cleave open, she was sure of it. Ginny held on to her broom for dear life, not knowing what was in front of her—or below her—she couldn't see...and now she couldn't think....
Her mind was going blank—no, Ginny, wake up! the back of her mind yelled at her—but the dark abyss she was falling into seemed much more welcoming. She didn't have to fly; she didn't have to be here with all these people yelling at her...she just wanted to let go....
"I thought you just had, Virginia...."
No...And Ginny lost consciousness.
Headache.
Where's Mum when you need her? Ginny thought in a haze. Her mother had a good hand at minor pains like this; she'd fix this aching head in a tick.
Mum?
"Mmm..." Ginny groaned.
Then Ginny heard a voice, sounding nearer and nearer as she broke through unconsciousness, until she realized that it was someone calling her name...
"Ginny...Ginny...are you awake?"
The voice sounded painfully concerned—tearful, even. It was a familiar voice, but she never heard it sound like this. In fact, as she listened harder, it sounded really stupid.
"Ginny? Hey, Ginny...come on...please...?"
Ginny pried her eyes open. She tried moving her head, but she realized that she couldn't do so without giving herself further pain in the head and neck. A hazy figure then appeared floating above her—it was a face, complete with red hair that seemed uncombed for a month.
"Ginny? Ginny?"
"Ron," Ginny mumbled.
As Ginny's eyesight became more focused, she saw Ron looking ecstatically relieved. "We thought you'd.... Are you really okay?"
Ginny made a face. "Ron, you idiot, I'm not dying," she croaked.
"She's okay," Ginny heard another voice say in conclusion. Hermione Granger's face came into sight, looking relieved as well, though more cheerful. "I told you, Ron, Ginny can handle it. Probably even better than you."
Ginny blinked at the two of them. "Handle...what?"
"A Bludger on the head," another voice said in response.
With a groan, Ginny tilted her head up to find Harry sitting on the other end of the bed. His face was expressionless—or rather, Ginny thought, he seemed to make it look so.
Ginny let her head fall back on her pillow; as she did, another jab of pain shot through her head. She winced, suppressing a yelp.
"Bludger?" Ginny repeated weakly. "I don't remember any Bludger..."
"You didn't see it," said Ron, his smile fading. "But I was yelling at you, remember?"
Ginny stared at Ron, trying to remember. The last memory she could recall was of herself running to the Quidditch pitch...then flying...of soaring towards a shocked-looking Ron...of hearing Harry holler....
"Wow," Ginny said. "Are Andrew and Jack still that bad?"
"Nope," said Ron. He suddenly looked furious. "It was Malfoy—he hexed the Bludger so that it flew after you."
"He had detention and fifty points off Slytherin," Hermione added darkly. "Professor McGonagall wanted a harsher punishment since Malfoy deliberately hurt a fellow student, but Professor Snape made it sound as if it was an accident."
Ginny looked blankly at her brother and Hermione. "So...Malfoy risked being expelled just to get me off the team, so that they'd win in the match next week?"
"I think it's more than that," said Harry quietly. "Does Bat-Bogey Hex ring a bell?"
Ginny raised her eyebrows. "He wants revenge for that?"
"Well." Ginny saw Harry smile slightly. "You know Malfoy. Ruining his physique is a big thing for him."
Ginny couldn't help but smirk back. As she did, her gaze fell on the window to her right. The sky was aflame; it was sunset.
"Seems like I missed the whole day," she mused.
Ron and Hermione exchanged glances. "It's already Tuesday, Ginny," said Hermione.
"Tuesday?"
"You've been unconscious since you fell last Saturday..."
Ginny blinked as she processed this last bit of information. "I...fell off my broom..."
"Oh, Harry caught you on his Firebolt," Ron said, abruptly switching into an enthusiastic mood. "Then he carried you off to here."
Ginny scowled at Ron, knowing exactly what went on in her brother's head. Then she looked at Harry. He had looked away, obviously avoiding her gaze.
Ginny suddenly couldn't keep herself from smiling. "That's twice you saved my neck already—thanks."
Harry shrugged, still staring determinedly at the door. "'Twas nothing," he said gruffly.
Ginny looked back at Ron and held him in a murderous glare.
"Your broom's fine," Ron added, not at all affected by Ginny's gaze. "It's back in your room."
"Oh—Miss Weasley! You're awake."
Ron, Hermione and Harry jumped at the new voice. Madam Pomfrey came striding towards them, carrying a tray laden with nasty-looking potion bottles. Hermione and Ron stepped aside to let Madam Pomfrey examine Ginny.
"Well, seems like you're ready to leave tonight," said Madam Pomfrey, lifting both of Ginny's eyelids. "Another dose of Rancid Rupture Remedy before you go, I'd say."
Ginny saw Harry wince. Catching her eye, he smiled sympathetically.
"You three," Madam Pomfrey said, eyeing Harry, Ron and Hermione, "should be going off to dinner now. Miss Weasley will join you in no time."
"We were just going," said Hermione, hastily grabbing her bag; Harry and Ron did the same. "Ginny—Jane and your other friends came around before us. I told them to leave some of their notes behind so you'll be able to catch up with lessons—they're there, on that cabinet," she added, pointing.
Ginny inwardly groaned at the sight of the stack of books and parchment on her bedside cabinet and feigned a grateful smile at Hermione.
"Well, see you," said Ron, still grinning.
As Hermione and Ron slipped out of the hospital wing, Harry glanced back at her, and if Ginny weren't feeling too dizzy she would've clearly seen Harry give her another sympathetic smile.
She could have needed it—the Rancid Rupture Remedy was impossibly bad and it gave her an aftertaste of rotten sprouts when she was done. But Ginny tolerated it, and when Madam Pomfrey left, she uncomplainingly took the Standard Book of Spells, Grade Five on the cabinet and absently flipped through its pages, trying to forget about the slight throbbing behind her head as a result of the potion.
If Madam Pomfrey would let her, she'd be on the pitch again on Wednesday and Thursday nights for last-minute practice. She suddenly couldn't wait again. It was just lucky that her injuries weren't so bad for her to miss practice and the game versus Slytherin altogether—just lucky that Harry had caught her when she fell off her broomstick.
Ginny let her mind wander to Harry, who was angry at her just before she got hit by the Bludger, and then caught her onto his Firebolt. It would have been so much better if Harry were less tense about things and would smile more often....
The sky outside pulled at her gaze again. Indigo and pink were contesting dominance as the first stars appeared. The brightest of them all didn't twinkle—Ginny smiled and recalled Bill explaining to her when she was eight years old that it shines as it is because it's Venus, and planets don't twinkle. She had asked him because she wished upon that same star, that....
...If she fell off a broomstick...
Ginny suddenly bolted upright—and promptly yelped, "OUCH!"
"Miss Weasley!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, running towards her. "You know better than moving so suddenly and hurting yourself further!"
"S-sorry," Ginny mumbled, rubbing the back of her head. "I—just—remembered something...."
"Well, don't do it again," Madam Pomfrey said grumpily. "You do want to play against Slytherin, don't you?"
"I know, Madam Pomfrey," Ginny said wearily.
Ginny settled back on her pillows, trying to make sense of what had just happened as something squeezed at her heart. Harry had caught her when she fell off her broom! Didn't she wish for it at the age of eight?
Ginny closed her eyes, trying to remember exactly what it was that she had wished for. She had wished that...that someone who would understand her would catch her....
At that thought, Ginny chuckled to herself and felt more relaxed as she remembered a day in Grimmauld Place not too long ago...
"Well, that was a bit stupid of you, seeing as you don't know anyone but me who's been possessed by You-Know-Who, and I can tell you how it feels."
"I forgot."
It was a sad thought, really...but Harry really didn't understand...whether it was Quidditch or...or what had happened in her first year.... But then again, at least she wasn't tied to a wish that seemed about to come to reality. It didn't sound too good, knowing what the future held....
However, as Ginny tried to go back to sleep again, she found that couldn't do away with the thought that... she wasn't quite sure if she really didn't want the wish to come true.