Chapter 11 – Fiery hot Phoenix.
'COME ON HARRY, STAY WITH US!' Ron shouted as he hauled Harry onto the shabby bed in the surgery, that wasn't used in Hogwarts since the time of the founders and magical healing was terrible at best.
When Ginny had franticly beaten their wards around his and Hermione's house, making a rumpus to wake the dead, Ron immediately knew something was wrong. He grabbed a cloak and set out to find Ginny, hysterically screaming like a banshee. Hermione came out soon after, forcing a calming draught down Ginny's throat waiting patiently as Ginny told them what had happened.
The story she told was completely absurd to say the least. Like Harry waking Ginny at the crack of dawn to see the sunset then getting into a fight with Voldemort's top Strike Team and afterwards acting completely barmy. Then he seemed to regain his bearings and challenged Draco. What Ginny told them next gave Ron a good laugh until Ginny cursed him with a hex generally not used on the male society. She told them that Harry was at the receiving end of the Heart Shattering Curse and survived, she didn't know how but he didn't bleed blood out of every pore of his body, only his eyes. Strangely enough Draco was found dead by Ginny after Harry's Familiar killed the rest with what Ginny explained as a "beam of magical light".
Harry though, was hardly living. It looked, and still does as if he was so sad that he cried tears of blood, only now they were beginning to harden and crust, giving him a look like a demon. They went right after Ginny's tale and found Harry sitting up, staring in front of him with an expression of pain that was unmasked and complete. The look of utter anguish spread over his face as he clutched his chest with one hand, the other resting on his Familiar's head that lay next to him, howling softly. The sadness of that sight stopped them short, except for Ginny who had already countered the effects of the weak calming draught Hermione had given her.
But when Harry started to scream and weep at the same time Ron sprang into action, running full tilt towards his friend that was shedding tears of blood, creating small rivers that flowed freely down his face, falling softly onto the green grass. Ron had picked him up with pure adrenaline and grabbed the portkey that Hermione had given him but before they could activate the thing Harry spoke through his tears and pain,
"Take it away, take it away…" he cried as his voice died out trying to finish his sentence.
What the hell he wanted gone Ron didn't know but he didn't care. He would take Harry to the best healer in the world and where that was he didn't know but he didn't care, the only thing that went through his mind at that moment was to get Harry somewhere that he could have treatment and that was Hogwarts.
Dumbledore handled the situation as one would expect from him, calm and collected, that was until Madam Pomphrey told them what needed to be done in order to save Harry. As their luck would have it the only spell and magic that could work on a heart injury of this scale must be performed directly on the heart and she didn't have a clue how to perform any one of the spells.
Dumbledore immediately summoned all of his ancient friends, who had expertise in this field, who came as soon as possible. Even three of the best muggle surgeons showed up after Dumbledore grabbed them by hand and apparated away, one of them was Chris Barnard. The story behind this man was quite remarkable.
He was the first person, magical and muggle, who had successfully transplanted a heart with only muggle methods in the 1970's. Also, he was allegedly confirmed dead by muggle doctors but in reality, wizards all over the world had persuaded him to live with them and help them with heart research.
A rough hand on his shoulder brought Ron back to the present.
'Come on sonny, let's get some work done.' One of Dumbledore's old friends told him with a smile, 'He'll be fine.'
Ron nodded and quickly walked the halls of Hogwarts until he got none other than Severus Snape with his whole trolley full of potions. They went back to the room and then the spells started.
Each and every wizard Dumbledore called chanted as one, bringing up a strange manifestation that seemed to hold no purpose what so ever. That is when Harry really started to show his pain. He screamed out of his hoarse throat, coughing up blood all the time. His voice carried throughout the whole room, louder than anything else. The enchantment of the old wizards couldn't even be heard above Harry's wailing. Snape poured potion after potion down Harry's throat, Madam Pomphrey cast spell after spell on Harry from her place next to his bed and the muggle surgeons started to cut Harry open.
Once the manifestation was in place, poised right above Harry, and Harry's heart exposed for the world to see they started the real work. Most of the people in the room couldn't even get near Harry, let alone work on him but still it all worked out. One of them would get a place open next to Harry's bed and perform his spells, mostly dark magic removal spells. Only the coils of the spell, which everybody once thought was only the tracking portion of the spell, did so much damage to Harry's heart and body that it seemed useless to carry on. Transplanting the thing was mentioned but dismissed as soon as it was brought up. Harry's heart was… unique. The whole way his body was rigged up in that area was completely different from any other human being.
That was as much as Ron could see because at that moment Dumbledore told them to leave the room. As Ron cast one last look through the chaos he saw Harry's face, his eyes.
His eyes were open, looking directly at him, pleading for him to stop the pain, to stop the people that caused him only more pain. His green eyes were shining brightly in the moonlight of the room, a tear, and normal this time, falling from his eyes followed by another one shortly after.
Harry raised his hand slowly with so much effort that Ron thought only that could cause him death. His hand was pleading with Ron to stop it all and for a moment Ron thought he would do just that. Stop Harry's pain and send him to the peace he yearned for and if Ron had to be honest, deserved more than any other human being. When Harry saw Ron's look, he did something Ron wouldn't have thought possible.
Harry smiled. A sad, morbid smile but the gesture was there all the same. Thanks Ron, but I'll hang on just a bit longer.
Ron was touched that instant by the courage and strength his friend shows to others in his own moment of greatest peril, even if they are struggling with something small. He walked out of that room feeling numb. Everything felt strange, his own body felt alien and he vowed to do all in his power to help Harry retain a normal life for once.
It's been seven days since Harry's injury and nothing changed about his condition after his surgery. They said it would take time, they said the residual magic would take its toll but none of them had anticipated this little twist. For three days Harry had screamed himself hoarse, thrashed around in bed out of pure agony and cried some more tears of blood mingled with his own normal tears that seemed to come straight from his soul. It was a sickly sight to say the least.
The restorative potions being constantly inserted into his body by any means possible was doing the best to be expected from them. The constant barrage of healing spells on Harry almost seemed to encase him in an aura of sinister looking multi-colored magic and above it all there wasn't a moment of silence.
The whole hospital wing was closed off completely, sealed by Dumbledore himself, and everybody who exited the place except for the few people who knew that Harry was alive had to be memory charmed. Snape didn't host his classes; he only brewed potions and McGonagall was one of the assigned healers, also rendering her incapable of teaching.
Speculation ran about in the castle from Dumbledore dying, which was impossible since he showed up for meals most of the time, to an army of ghosts from the netherworld being summoned in the hospital wing by none other than Voldemort.
Ron, Hermione and Ginny didn't once leave the hospital wing, their constant vigilance of Harry not wavering a bit. But there was simply nothing they could do to help Harry except heal the wounds that formed by his screaming or thrashing and cleaning the mess he made. Not one of them complained once, they didn't show any bother to clean the fresh vomit from Harry, they didn't hesitate to wipe the blood of off his face and they were the ones who regulated the comings and goings of different people near Harry.
Two days later Harry's eyes fluttered open. It was sore and crusted but it opened nonetheless. Eyes so eager to open they didn't care about small things such as pain. Harry looked around and saw Ron standing by the window, gazing at the sunrise. He looked a wreck. His clothes were wrinkled, his hair looked greasy and his stubble on his face could do with a shave but who was Harry to preach about stubble when he had a fully-fledged beard.
Harry sat up slowly, no mean feat in his condition, and found that nature was the reason he had woken up. He needed the toilet and he needed it now. He tried to swing his legs over the side of the bed but his body was weak. He could hardly move a muscle, which made Harry wonder because he could sit up straight without any problem. He doubted that if he tried again that he would get up again, now that he knew he was supposed to be sore.
The last thing he could remember was the most horrible pain he had ever felt. It was so intense, so terribly sore that Harry didn't know about anything else for a long time. In fact he wondered why he wasn't dead. Every bad feeling imaginable came into his heart, forcing the way inward until your heart start to crust and harden, physically. Harry presumed that he prevented death by killing Draco only a moment before the spell struck but those coils were enough if you hadn't experienced pain as Harry had in his life before.
Strange that all the pain and loss Harry had suffered during his life was the thing that saved him. The Dursleys' torture and then Voldemort and all those evil things in the cave, it made him strong, and it gave him power. Suddenly Harry knew were his strength comes from, from others' hate and torture against him. He thought back to the times in the cave, those things hated him and look what he did to them in the end. Some of them he killed and buried afterwards with some conjured sand, those were the Vampires that only fought out of pure blood lust but then you get those that wanted to kill him for power, they wanted his soul so to speak and Harry torn them to nothing more than a small puddle of blood.
People who hate Harry, and fight him for that reason, gave him strength. They fed him. They were the ones he should thank for still being alive now but they were dead or most of them anyway. He didn't want to fight anymore, he was tired of seeing the last breath of a person leave them, he was tired of all the pain and most of all he was scared. He was scared that some day he would turn like them, power hungry and forcing his will upon lesser people.
He shook his head and transformed without a thought into whatever it was he transformed into when his animagus self came out and hopped off the bed with feline ease. It was easier to move about after you had pain, and it helped clear your head much more quickly. Where have you ever seen an animal groggy for longer than a few seconds?
'What the…!' Ron started from the window, 'Where's Harry!' Ron's wand was pointing straight at Harry's mane who immediately turned back into himself.
'Calm down man,' Harry told him with a smile, 'it's only to wake up.'
'Well thank you but do you have any idea how it feels seeing the place were your injured friend had slept for a long time occupied but some sort of lion.' Ron was really looking scared, even his wand was shaking.
'I felt like I should have cut you open or something. Say, shouldn't you be in bed?'
'I'll decide if I need to be in bed and right now I need a toilet. Excuse me.' Harry added while he quickly trotted over to the bathroom. After his basic bodily needs he turned around and saw… a shower. What a lovely sight that was. Oh, the joys of civilization.
Twenty minutes later Harry came out of the bathroom with a new strength. Things were starting to look up for Harry, he felt it inside of him, or maybe it was just his mind telling him that he will take it easy the next few weeks.
'Oh, Harry.' Hermione started to speak from the doorway but couldn't seem to find her words, 'I don't even know what I wanted to say.'
'I'm all right now.' He reassured her, 'Come on, let's go grab some food in Diagon Alley. I need to get my money anyway.'
'Uh Harry,' Ginny said, 'All of your money was shared between us…'
'Only those you know of.' He told her with a wink, his voice trailing down until he only mumbled almost inaudibly 'I only need to find out where it was; he told me it was in a bank account but which one. I guess I'll need to search for it then, nothing like a good quest to start off the day.'
'I'll just tell Dumbledore that we're off. I'll catch you at the gates.' He told them and walked out of the door, his clothes changing shape as he stepped through the threshold leaving him clad in jeans, a shirt and a simple cloak with a hood.
He walked the halls quickly and found the statue that guarded the old man's office. With a furtive glance around Harry looked at the statue and said, 'Professor, can I quickly speak to you?'
The statue took a moment and then sprung away from the revolving staircase, a slight chuckle coming from above. He hopped on and finally entered the office.
'Ah, Harry, how did you know of the charms outside of my office?' Dumbledore greeted him kindly.
'I can feel them now, the working of magic that is.' Harry told him with a smile, 'Some things have to be learnt in one's life.'
'To true a statement that is. Do you know where I learnt most of my magic?' Dumbledore asked.
'Hopefully not like me.' Harry told him.
'No, no,' Dumbledore laughed, 'I had to sit in a study under constant vigil. I believe your way was far more effective, considering the time span. Harry, I can't truly tell you how glad I am now that you are back but that attack, it touched me deeply.' He stood up and strolled over to Fawkes. The bird chirped softly as Dumbledore stroked him with his bony fingers.
'We are so glad that you are still alive and then you almost got yourself killed. Your friends would have lost it if you had died, truly died, in front of them and I can say the same for myself. I don't care about the war anymore, I'm an old and selfish man thinking that but I would be lying if I told you otherwise. Hogwarts is the only place I intend to protect.'
'And nobody can tell you otherwise.' Harry told him after a while, 'How long have you been fighting in you life, how many times have you made sacrifices in those times? I think what your saying makes sense; you have to hide your true appearance under charms, why? If people really have that attitude then let them fall. Let Voldemort take them down. They are weak, putting all of their hope on you; they don't deserve to live if they can't even stand up for themselves. Oh no, fighting's not for me, let Dumbledore and those brave people do it while I sit back on my chair and have a cup of coffee. They Don't Deserve To Live!'
Harry had spent months on end thinking about those things. If each and every capable wizard will fight back, Voldemort will crumble, with boy-who-lived or not. The ones that suffer the pain, take the anguish of losing someone close to them, they are the ones that deserve it the least. Snobs the lot of them!
'That is true to a sense,' Dumbledore sighed sadly, 'but what can we do? Can you imagine the world under the reign of Voldemort, do you really want to see the muggles working as slaves for him. If we don't take a stand, nobody will and that Harry, is something only time can teach you, no matter how much you have gone through, no matter what anybody says we have to do it. I'm tired Harry, I'm old and my power is not what it used to be, I cant go into battle anymore so what use am I in a war? I can still plot and plan but people don't want that.'
There was a silence after his tirade. What did Dumbledore want to tell Harry with that speech? Did he want him, Harry to take over and make a stand, for those people! Those people who worship you as a hero when you fight valiantly but if you don't they despise you for all eternity, they can die themselves! He, Harry, will not sacrifice time, effort or human life for them.
'I'm not asking you anything.' Dumbledore started, 'I'm teaching you Harry for there will come a time that these words will light up like a beacon. You will understand in time what it is I'm saying. As I said, only time can teach you this lesson, the wisdom comes with age. Let the ministry handle the war, they are after all supposed to do it. We started off as a helping hand, one that worked in secret. Don't let anything influence your heart. Don't fight because it is expected of you and don't rebel against the people that wont do anything. Go your way, get yourself a home, live a life.'
'You know that this castle doors will always be open to you, come when you will, don't be hesitant to visit. I dare say an old man like me would appreciate some bantering about nothing more than the weather.' He stood up and walked over to his bookshelf. He pulled out a few thick volumes, unveiling the Sword of Gryffindor.
'You know that a sword, in wizarding custom, signifies a man's life, his hope and courage. If your sword were broken, you can just as well dispose your manhood. Those traditions have died down by now but still, it stands with me. My sword lies in the grave with someone I would maybe tell you about at a later stage. You, Harry, have two swords so to say. The one right here and the one you have with you. Don't let either of them out of you sight. I give it to you now, as fathers have done to their son's many years ago, to signal that you have surpassed me, your father, even Sirius.'
'Why don't you keep it here?' Harry told him, 'I'll come and get it some time later. Later, when I settled in some place I can call home. I actually came to tell you that we're going to get some lunch at Diagon Alley.'
'Please Harry,' Dumbledore said, 'Don't get into any trouble.'
'I'll try professor, I'll try.' With that said Harry left the office and walked towards the Hogwarts gate.
Ron, Hermione and Ginny were standing at the Hogwarts gates, just inside of the wards, with only one thought racing through all of their minds.
What's up with Harry?
Was it only a few weeks back that things were bleak and black, Ginny fighting, Hermione almost constantly crying about the great unknown and him, Ron, trying but to no avail to live a normal life. Then Harry came back.
It was possibly the strangest time in his life, except maybe when Harry left. Strange that the biggest times in his life was connected to Harry "dying" and to Harry coming back out of the "dead". Harry was a changed person; he was different than the Harry he knew. This Harry should still be in bed, like the old one would have been, busy to recover from the massive blow to his heart, literally. But he wasn't. He was up and about walking around with an air of majesty around him that Ron felt like he should carry around food for the man, like a slave. That was a frightening thought and one he didn't want to think about.
'What's wrong with him?' Hermione asked silently, slowly.
'I don't know.' Was the only reply she got from Ginny and Ron thought that about summed it up.
Harry was different. He was stronger by a long shot, one could feel that as soon as he walked into the room, he was wiser, the things he said and the way he said it but most of all, Harry was a changed man. The little scrawny boy he knew was dead and buried deep under the lair of Voldemort. In his place, a man who Ron could see for the first time was the savior of them all. This Harry was hard, his eyes screamed battle and fight. He was thin and broken, physically, but he was as hard as a rock.
But as Ron looked over his shoulder he saw him, he saw Harry and it sent chills down his spine. Not chills of fear or the chills a dark creature would inspire, no this chills was caused by the sight of Harry.
He walked with a hunch that was clearly visible from this far, his hood was drawn over his head, casting his face into darkness. The way he walked though, it was the walk of a broken victor and it gave Ron the feeling that he should bow down to this man before him for Ron wasn't half the man Harry was.
He held himself like a king, a king who had fought great campaigns throughout his life to accumulate his goals.
Ron could only pray that Harry wouldn't turn on them, for they would all perish against him. But Ron knew Harry wouldn't turn on them. If he would have, it would have happened a long time ago.
'Are you ready to go?' Harry asked and now that he was close one could see just beneath his eyes. He held a manic smile, it was sinister as hell but Ron knew it was the best Harry could summon at this time. But Ron would make sure that Harry could smile like a normal person once again. Ron will bring back the smile that lit up a room; Ron will put it back on Harry's face. He will pull off this sinister smile, this… evil smile and put back the one that belongs.
Harry walked down the street of Diagon Alley, content and full. After their lunch at the Leaky Cauldron they decided to do some browsing, mostly for Harry's sake, as he had no possessions whatsoever. The girls insisted on clothes first but Harry and Ron had other ideas. After all, they reasoned, he didn't have any place to put all of the clothes. So now they simply walked in and out of every other store with no goal in mind but the girls didn't know that, they didn't really know how to do shopping.
The stores were packed to say the least, people mulling about, all of them in a race to find whatever they need and leave. Harry couldn't figure out why, walking around with your friends with no goal in mind was fun for Harry. Then he realized that most of these people have lives, they have family to return to maybe a job to finish, that's why they didn't stay to brows the shops, and it saddened Harry to think about the world as it stands now, a race.
But no, he wouldn't let those thoughts penetrate his mind, he had enjoyed himself immensely eating food and drinking the finest wine the place had. Ginny too, seemed to have a nice time, with the wine that is. She was by far the biggest drinker Harry had ever seen, apart from Mundungus Fletcher, and who could blame her. What did she do when not fighting the losing battle? What could she do other than drown her sorrows for a moment? She didn't have anybody close to go to, sure there was Ron and Hermione but they had been in hiding the past two years. She had her mother but then again, she was an adult now and adults don't go to their mothers for every other thing that pops up.
Enough! His mind screamed out, that small part that seemed to be an entity of its own.
'Want to go to the Magical Menagerie?' Ron asked pointing out the place where Hermione had bought Crookshanks all those years back.
'Why not' Harry replied and set off to look around even more. Hermione only rolled her eyes at Ginny and followed them through the hubbub of people.
Three days later Harry stared over the grassy field before him. There was nothing special about the field but that will change soon. Harry's plan was soon going to be set in motion. At eight-o-clock that morning it was all going to begin. He just had to wait two more hours.
Harry's plan?
He planned to build his home, his base of operation, his place were he could give shelter to someone in the time of need. Harry walked to the small river that came from the mountain only a few hundred meters away. Harry had sent Scryed out to find this place right after he had gained consciousness two days after his operation. Only two days it had taken Harry to heal, well, not heal per say but his magic sustained him and that was enough. He knew he needed to have his wits about him if he wanted this to be done so he contacted a few people. One of the most important though was a muggle. A man who new how to draw base plans for big structures, an architect.
It wasn't hard to find one.
His "mole" in Voldemort's lair had told him right about it, she was after all a muggle who had gone bad… Harry had owled her, his owl only barely up for the journey but after two days of searching and finding nothing, Harry had sent Scryed to find the place. Apparently owls couldn't find it but that didn't stop Scryed. Harry had told her about his great escape, his plan in his head and about his friends. O, he told her everything about his friends. When Harry was locked up in his hell, she had found a way to send him messages. She had learnt elemental magic, the only magic she could do, and changed scraps of parchment into small water drops. After she disposed of them in the puddle right above Harry all he had to do was to wait for it to seep through the stone. As soon as the water drop touched air again, it turned back into parchment, successfully sending Harry messages without anybody knowing.
She had shared many things with him, from her dead husband, killed by Voldemort's minions, to Voldemort's finer plans, the inner workings of it. That's how Harry came up with his plan, a flawless plan that Harry knew couldn't possibly last but still, she gave him an idea worth doing, and she gave him most of his real plan. Harry, at that moment, was so far gone in his own mind that he actually suggested breaking free and building an army of small kids no older than five. Harry's crazy and twisted mind reasoned that Voldemort can't stand love and small children loved all around.
She told him that she had laughed at the idea for hours on end. She even burst out laughing when Voldemort mentioned he was going to kill some children for evening entertainment. Never again had she laughed at one of Voldemort's comments. That was all she said about that…
Now that Harry decided to go for a swim in the river he realized that she was a companion dearly needed and appreciated in his time spent in the cavern, even if he sometimes had to wait weeks for the "message drop" to seep through the stone.
In the distance Harry heard Osiris roaring, he knew that his dragon and Hedwig was somewhere off playing some foolish little game, it's what they did. Harry had seen them at it, playing hide and seek. Sometimes Harry wondered if Osiris knew that he was a fully-grown dragon now 'cause he always hid behinds small rocks and plunging his head inside a small rabbit holes. Scryed was already in the currents of the river, standing on a rock. He liked to catch fish when they swam up the currents.
O yes, this was going to be perfect.
Harry jumped into the water, flowing freely with the currents until he pooled his magic and swam back up. Harry even tried to sneak up on Scryed but that was like trying to separate the ingredients of a potion, simply impossible. The thing was too fast; it's senses too great for Harry to match.
'Sorry to interrupt but can you tell me where I can find a person named Harvey Potash?' A man in a business suit asked. He was mid thirties with a few strands of prominent gray hair and a rather skinny build.
Harry quickly hopped out of the shallow waters where he had lain and dozed off a bit, to great his architect, his new employee. Scryed was swimming deep beneath the water, out of prying muggle eyes. How he did that Harry wouldn't know.
'That's me.' Harry said as he pulled on his cloak, 'You are?'
The man looked shocked for a moment but pulled himself together after staring open mouthed at Harry's gaping wound. The wound where the surgeons had cut open his body to get to his heart. It was still raw and completely unhealed but Harry's magic sustained it, it always did and that was enough for Harry. He will let it heal naturally when the time comes and that time wasn't now.
'Yes, right.' He said sticking out his hand, 'I'm Robert Biggonson, the architect. Some lady, your secretary she told me, asked me to come here. She told me you had something huge to build.' He stressed out the word huge, imitating Harry's secretary, with a smile on his lips.
Harry was kind of glad this man had a sense of humor 'because what Harry was going to propose to this man will make him double over in laughter.
'I sure do Robert, I sure do.' Harry told him motioning for the man to follow him, 'follow me please and I'll tell you what I want.'
Later that evening.
Robert Biggonson clambered in his double bed next to his wife with a great sigh. He had been out all day, out with a young man talking and walking around a green grass field at the base of a mountain. Some of the things Harvey had said were it was preposterous to say the least. After a good laugh at what Harvey said, he wanted to turn around and get back to his small projects that raked in just enough money for him and his beloved wife.
'What's wrong dear?' She asked next to him, turning around and sitting up so that she was at eye level with him.
'It's nothing really,' he started but with the stare she was giving him he knew he had to spill the beans, 'you know that lady I told you about, the secretary of someone called Harvey Potash?'
She nodded for him to continue.
'Well, I met him today and you just wouldn't believe what he asked of me.' He heaved another great sigh, 'this young man is completely out of his mind I tell you. Anyway, if what he says comes to play, and it just might, he showed me his account number and you wouldn't believe who he really is, we will be millionaires.'
She looked him straight in the eye, 'Your joking right?'
'I'm not kidding, the mystical man behind the Swart agencies is none other that Harvey Potash and he wants me to do a job for him.'
'Come on, go to bed.' She told him lying down again, 'I told you not to drink anymore. It does funny things to your head.'
'I'm not joking!' he exclaimed seriously, 'I swear it. I have to draw blueprints for a…'
Only snores met his unfinished answer. With another great sigh he cuddled up against his wife. He will show her that it's true. Robert just hopes if he woke up tomorrow it wouldn't all have been a dream.
Ginny walked through the streets of Knockturn Alley with her arms folded neatly under her cloak, holding her wand tightly. She wouldn't normally walk here, the place gave her the creeps, but Tonks had informed her of a secret Auror operation, one that could possibly find the hideout of Voldemort.
She didn't really think it would be that easy, no matter whom they catch. Voldemort's no fool and he will make sure his place is secure. But, these people who they were after, Ginny had a personal grudge against one of them. She didn't care about the operation, she didn't care about the Aurors, she didn't even care who did in this battle but she will find that person, she will find him and kill him.
She walked to the "pub" as it was called but she thought "Death Eater Drinking" sounded more plausible. And she was correct, Death Eaters walking around with their Dark Marks exposed for the world to see, fighting in one corner, and simple hard drinking at the bar. She walked to the counter with no small amount of apprehension; after all, she was wanted. The man gave her hooded face one look and bent down under the counter, from where he pulled out a glass of running-rum.
'I need to speak with the man of his word.' She told him, hoping beyond hope that Tonks was right with her assessment. She was the one that got the information, listening in on a conversation, and Ginny knew damn well that Tonks couldn't be graceful to save her life.
'Get out. Nobody is to know.' The man replied but he didn't seem to be finished. After staring at her long and hard he pulled open his counter flap and motioned her in.
Ginny couldn't believe her luck. This stupid man, this idiotic drunk was leading her right to her desired destination. Something at the back of her mind boggled her though, it sensed something was amiss. Her eyes saw things but her brain didn't recognize it for what it was. Perhaps in another situation, one where Ginny could remain impartial, she would have seen a trap for what it was. But she didn't, her lust for killing that one man drove all reasonable thought from her mind, she suppressed the feeling, she didn't want to accept the fact that she should, indeed, just walk away.
They walked through a maze of tunnels and corridors, turning at some and walking straight through solid walls. The man didn't talk once, he didn't look at Ginny once but the worst thing was that he nodded every so often. Ginny thought it was the man rambling in his own mind, thoughts only a drunk can experience.
Harry had been gone for three weeks now, only sending them messages with vague references. He said that he was sorting out his life; he said that he was safe he only needed time. Ginny didn't fall for that one though. He was in a chamber for three years, surrounded only by thick stone. How much time can a person need?
She could have sworn that she saw him, no, sensed him a week ago in Hogsmeade. Then again, it was Harry and he can manage for himself, nothing to worry about. She was mad at Harry. Why couldn't he just be normal and buy a flat, why didn't he spent some time with them, why did he have to pay three hundred galleons into her account when he only used two?
Harry was a bit loony. That was a certain fact. He sent Ron and Hermione a magical carrier for their child with an in built monitor that worked with the protean charm. He sent Ginny a box full of strange muggle alcoholic drinks, a whole box, with a note attached that said, 'If it all becomes too much. Just don't overdo it.'
He sent each and every person he knew something with anonymous notes but the strangest thing of all was the tickets. Every person that got a present got a ticket, a plain muggle amusement park ticket. Her dad was ecstatic, he even owled them through their secret keeper but was quickly deflated when Dumbledore talked some sense into his head. Not a day later another note from an "anonymous" person came to him, telling him that time doesn't matter, anytime the place was open just for him.
Ginny knew the "anonymous" person was Harry; it was just something he would do, but was still in doubt about his sanity.
At long last they reached a silver door, complete with engraved snakes and sinister green lights. What piqued her though was that all of the snakes where hissing at her and doesn't seem to be quieting down.
The man looked at her then nodded towards the door, motioning for her to enter. Ginny reached out a hand and grasped the snakehead to open the door. Happy that the thing didn't turn out to be animated she opened the door slowly, not sure if this were the best thing to do. After all she didn't know all of the details. And for the first time that day Ginny fell into doubt about this. She didn't know times or anything, she only knew where to go. Damn her bloodlust.
She had to admit though that she was curious as to what might be discussed in the meeting. What she didn't expect though, was a circular chamber, without windows, without occupants save one and two chairs. The person, dressed completely in black seemed to soak up the shadows being cast onto him by the small fire in the center of the room. Ginny stared for a while, waiting, listening and hoping beyond hope that this was indeed the "meeting". She knew it wasn't.
'Ms. Weasley.' the man said barely above a whisper, he seemed incapable of breaking his voice.
Ginny wondered if the man was going to carry on or if he was merely stating the obvious. Then it struck her, she wasn't Ms. Weasley here, she wasn't even a she, she should be a manly Death Eater taking on the role of body guard to look for intruders.
'Take a seat, I will not harm you.' The man said, waiving his hand and closing the door with a snap. Ginny looked around her, only the man was there and he sounded weak, Ginny doubted that he could even stand much less fight.
Ginny immediately drew her wand and pistol, stunning bullets possibly blazing with energy, and pointed it directly at the man's chest. He laughed with a hiss, sending chills down her spine, but didn't move one bit. Ginny fired a shot, not wanting to get herself into a worse situation. It didn't even come close.
The man simply laughed, again motioning for her to sit.
'Do you not believe me when I told you that I wouldn't harm you?' he said. Something about the voice clicked in Ginny's mind, something Harry had told her about back in sixth year.
His voice Ginny, it's the worst of all. Nothing more than a hiss but you can hear it from a mile away. That voice is the one each and every child has nightmares about, it sends chills down your spine, and it's like walking through a ghost only to bump into a dementor. That's what the voice of Tom Riddle sounds like.
Fear gripped at her heart, fear for the unknown and fear for her very existence. She couldn't comprehend what was happening around her as she was pulled to her seat by some unknown force. Voldemort was sitting right in front of her, wanting to talk to her. The wizard every wizard prays not to see in his lifetime.
'Don't be afraid.' He said with a smile, one worse than that of Harry's new one, 'I wont hurt you my dear, I want to talk. Why would I want to hurt you Ginny?'
Ginny couldn't move; she simply couldn't send the command to her brain. Fear blocked all paths of rational thought; it rendered her incapable of moving or thinking.
Ginny, why would I want to hurt you? You are my friend, why would I hurt my friends? Come on Ginny, let's have coffee. We can even play chess. We have all the time in the world. Nothing matters. Have fun my friend, don't worry. Nobody will tease you here. Stop crying, I haven't betrayed you, nothing those people tell you are true. It was my plan, yes but you convinced me not to do it. I'll even learn Defense against the Dark arts, I'll Work at Hogwarts. Then I can help you if you need it but such a bright girl wouldn't need it. Don't cry little Ginny, I'm here, you're safe.
Voldemort waved his hand and the fire and it floated until it came to a stop above their heads. With another wave a coffee table appeared in the middle of them, complete with chess set, right as it was before he had possessed her completely.
'It's your move,' he said waiting a bit before he added, 'my friend.'
That certainly got her going, 'I am not your friend. Who have you ever known that kills their friends? You sick…'
'Oh but I do know one.' He interrupted her. Harry was right, his voice demanded immediate attention. 'Peter Pettigrew and they were friends like none other. Harry Potter, he killed his own Godfather, he put you in danger and that too, was friends like none other. Need I go on?'
'You're lying!' Ginny yelled in outrage, how could he say those things of Harry, it wasn't his fault, 'Harry didn't do anything wrong! You sick…'
'Oh, but he did.' Voldemort carried on. He stood up and started to walk around the small room, looking ill at ease with the situation. At least one of them was feeling comfortable.
'My dear, if only he had joined me. We could have done great things together but, that was his decision to make, it was his choice to do the right thing, the noble thing and it killed him in the end. Look at the pain on your face, on that of Dumbledore, can you stand it? Do you want me to carry on with my list? Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, Albus Dumbledore, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, each and every person Harry knew. You all betrayed him, if only he knew, if only he would have joined me. He died because of you; he died because you would have died had he not made that sacrifice at Hogwarts.'
'Why are you telling me this?' Ginny asked softly, her eyes burning and not because of the smoke from the fire. They were the ones that put Harry through three years of hell, they were the ones that forced Harry to live with his relatives, causing years of mental and emotional anguish on a boy that didn't even knew about his parents' sacrifice.
'Why crying my friend?' Voldemort mocked her with his consolation, he didn't know Harry was alive, he mustn't know. Three and a half years they condemned him to a cave. She could have prevented it, Dumbledore could have. They should have. Harry should have lived with wizards that could have trained him, could have prevented voldemort from rising again. Why were they so stupid, so clogged up in their little world of peace?
'Why are you scared? Are you realizing the lesson I'm trying to teach you? Are you seeing that choices control everything? Our fate lies in our hands, we can play Creator with it, and we make the choices of our life. Harry made his choice and it protected you. Much like his mother have made for him. I have his blood, I can dispel those protection evoked by Dumbledore again, I can kill you with my bare hands and it would be my pleasure but I will not. I will give you the choice, little Ginny, for you gave me the chance to live. Again we are at the choices. You chose to give me life, Harry chose to take it away, you chose to write in my diary and I chose to use you. Why are you crying? Why are you sad? It is a great truth, you should be happy.'
'Stop, please stop.' Ginny moaned. She was back at the chamber, she was dying all over again, nothing was a certainty, and nothing was real except Voldemort and his words, his twisted lies to make them truth. Naked fear spread across her face as voldemort wiped away her tears with his knuckles, she couldn't move, she couldn't think, she could only listen.
'Listen to me Ginny and listen well.' He whispered in her ear, 'this is your life, do with it what you will but know that I control your protection and those of all you hold dear. You didn't really believe in a charmed life did you?'
Ginny could only nod to indicate that she had heard him. Silent anguish overtook her, a silent calm that came only after a battle on the battlefield with dead littering everywhere. That silent and sick anguish Ginny hated more than anything else flooded over her.
'Did you know that Harry's thoughts still lingers?' he whispered almost inaudibly, running a hand down to lift up her chin as her father had done so many times to console her. 'Did you know that he fought bravely, he was a hero, and he is dead. All heroes die. It is the way of the world. He constantly thought of you, Ron and Hermione. He cared, little Ginny, he died thinking about you three. It's still here now, sadness that he can't be with you, he cared but now he's gone.'
'WHAT DO YOU WANT?' Ginny screamed, jumping up, 'WHAT CAN I DO, HUH? YOU HAVE ALL THE ANSWERS. TELL ME! I WANT TO KNOW…'
She couldn't finish because she found herself plunged to the ceiling with a force she couldn't counter and dropped down on to the small fire that hung in the air. Hot coals were burning into her abdomen; flames licked their way up her body until he decided to stop it. A cry of pain escaped her mouth, it was too much, and he broke her again, after she thought he couldn't do it again. He had and in only a few minutes, he did it just to show that he can. Screaming now, Ginny felt her body trying to shut of, to cut off all connections to the brain in a vain attempt to stop the pain, even if it had to sacrifice her life.
Voldemort raised his hand and she dropped down, right through the fire with coals falling with her. She fell down in the rain of fire and red-hot coal, not able to do anything, not wanting to do anything. She clutched the small amulet Harry had given her back in her fifth year; it wasn't anything spectacular, only three figures on the cold metal; one with a scar, the other with a book in hand and another with red painted hair. It was her last grip on life, he last thought before she was ready to go. Voldemort had already raised his wand.
'See, little Ginny, I can break you time and time again. You have defied me too much, you have killed my servants and now I will kill you. Consider it an honor to die by my hand.' He said with no small amount of satisfaction, his voice reverberating through her mind like great bells chiming.
She closed her eyes, she couldn't look, and she couldn't speak. She wanted to die. If Voldemort could manipulate her emotions in a matter of minutes then she didn't deserve to live, she should have died back in the chamber. She can remember well when Harry was taken away. She had made a promise to carry on, to stay strong. She promised to face Voldemort and show him that she wasn't a little girl anymore. She had a dream of being successful in her life, she had a dream that she will live to see the end of Voldemort. It was all for naught. He stopped it, he deflated her dream, and he killed her soul for the second time.
Warmth spread out of the small amulet she still clutched to her chest, bright light seeping out of her fist. One of the most beautiful melodies filled her heart, the room; it filled all existence in this horrid place. Last time she remembered it, it was calmer, as if the most important thing was to put you at ease. This time though, it was urgent, it was heartening but most of all, it was fierce in intensity.
Ginny shut her eyes even tighter than they were already; the music seemed to berate her for being weak, for being stupid like she was. It was like a father scolding a child after an accident. Tears still found a way to leak out of the vice grip her eyelids had, it seeped out like water from a sponge. With wet eyes Ginny looked up at Voldemort, she will not go down like a small girl; she will look him in the eye when he kills her.
In the back of her mind, Ginny idly wondered why her life didn't flash before her eyes. In fact, she wondered about of lots of things in that instant, none of them helping her whatsoever to get out of this situation. She wondered about Harry and what his big "secret" was, she wondered about Ron and Hermione, she wondered about her little nephew and how he will be one day, she wondered about Dumbledore and the order of the phoenix, she wondered why she was still alive after a minute of hesitation from Voldemort. It's not like he has any trouble with his conscience so why would he hesitate to kill her now? She wondered where the phoenix song came from and she wondered why it was so hot in the room all of a sudden but that question was resolved the moment she set eyes on voldemort.
He wasn't where he was only a moment before, no; he was jumping about sending waves of spells and ice towards something vaguely familiar. It was a bird; that much was obvious for it was flying but what wasn't so usual about the bird was that it had flames all around it. In fact, it seemed as if the bird was burning from the inside out. Ginny looked closer and could just see the golden tail feathers and beautiful red plumage of Dumbledore's phoenix.
'Dammit bird, DIE!' Voldemort hissed as yet another green light rushed forth from his wand.
It wasn't a match though. Voldemort's spells couldn't move fast enough for the enraged phoenix that kept appearing and reappearing in different places all around the room. Small balls of flames were bursting off from the inferno and moving at incredible speeds towards Voldemort. It was beautiful… in a sick and twisted way. Voldemort was jumping and twirling around as if it was nothing other than ballroom dancing. Fawkes, even more spectacular than before, moving as a living ball of fire, singing and sending as good as it got. But the light show was the best.
Fawkes' fire was so intense, so hot and fierce that sometimes the flames seemed white as clouds. Voldemort sending spells faster than Ginny could comprehend, adding his own array of lighting to the room. Everything seemed trivial to Ginny as she watched a human, if one could call him that, versus magical beast. The sheer power rolling from them, it made Ginny feel very small indeed. All her pains forgotten by the sight before her she could do nothing more than stare as they battled it out.
Ginny didn't even know Fawkes could do that, in fact, the only magical things she knew about phoenixes was apparating in fire and healing. She had wondered all her life why they were so "magical" if it wasn't so great after all. Now she understood. She knew why they were awed over when seen; looking as a rather small bird Fawkes wasn't a force to be reckoned with. It seemed surreal, a magical bird sending balls of fire faster than any dragon could ever hope to accomplish at an evil dark villain, protecting the innocent girl.
But still, Voldemort wasn't backing down. Finally after Fawkes gave Ginny a look that clearly said 'stupid woman, get out!' at Ginny and sent a small fireball at her backside she finally found herself and sprung into action. Running as fast as her feet could carry her, out of the room and into the corridors, around corners and up endless flights of stairs. That is until she ran strait into a wizard with deep blue robes and a white beard thrown over his shoulder. Ginny fell straight back, as if she had run straight into a solid wall and looked up to Dumbledore's ancient face. He heaved a great sigh, relieved when he saw her but didn't waist any time by petty talk.
'Come, we can't apparate from here. The wards are too strong.' He pulled her by her hand and started to run once again, his wand drawn and his light spell blazing sharper than Ginny had ever seen before.
'Why doesn't Fawkes just take us back?' Ginny panted between hitches of breath as they ran.
'I don't think you would like to touch him now.' Dumbledore said in his usual voice, he didn't seem to have any trouble at his old age with fitness.
They ran and then some more, until finally they reached the door to the pub again. The door burst open as they ran, some unknown force sending it crashing away from them only to reveal about thirty wands pointed right at them as they passed the threshold of the door. Dumbledore stopped as if he had anticipated this much and waved his wand in a full circle above his head. Ginny only stared dumbfounded at the wrong ends of thirty-strong or so wands.
'Apparate now!' Dumbledore screamed, falling to one knee as he held his wand above his head, 'DO IT NOW!' his voice carrying power from his body like some ethereal source.
She didn't hesitate for a second time. As she winked out of existence there she saw Dumbledore falling to the ground with a small cry and the Death Eaters rushing towards him. The last thing Ginny saw was Fawkes flying so fast he looked like a red shooting star and grabbed Dumbledore with his talons, picking him up and streaking out of the door where it disappeared with Dumbledore in a ball of flame. A streak of smoke trailing behind the path Fawkes had flew.
That was at least something of apparating Ginny liked. You can disappear but still be there if you had enough power of mind and concentration. Ginny was curious so it just happened, she heard once from Kingsley that it was damn hard to perform and was requirement for stealth Aurors to do it because it enabled them to appear and disappear completely silent. At least she had learnt something today. Don't mess around with vague half truths and certainly don't mess around with Voldemort. The same goes for Fawkes.
She winked out completely, her blissful hardcore girl act completely shattered in less than twenty minutes. Her strong facade and state of mind nothing more than wet tissue paper. Her self-image completely burned down. She idly wondered how she lasted this long when there was so much more to this war, so much more power than she thought possible. She had always thought herself strong or at least adequate in fighting the dark forces. The Auror corps gave her the chance to be an Auror without even taking tests, she got a Medallion in her room about bravery in battle, could it be that nothing about that matters? She couldn't even keep up with Voldemort from just looking, how could she have possibly have thought she could fight him. She'll be thrashed in a second!
Stupid Girl, Get out!
She will remember that look Fawkes had given her, she'll remember for the rest of her life how small and insignificant she had felt at that moment. She couldn't hold a candle against them; she was, in all essence of the word, completely and utterly useless.
