Chapter Five: In Which Ginny Prepares
Friday passed all too quickly. She had Potions last thing on Friday, and, for the first time in her experience, they had a lecture-only period. But hearing Professor Snape drone on and on about poison antidotes (honestly, it really wasn't that boring, just repetitive--almost all the antidotes had the same basic ingredients, and the formulas for counteracting most poisons were fairly regular, with only a few exceptions that were easy enought to memorize) didn't slow time down enough. All too soon, she discovered that her dinner plate was empty, of what she could not remember, and Professor McGonagall was standing behind her in the Great Hall.
"Miss Weasley?"
"Yes, Professor?" Ginny hoped she didn't sound as tired, nervous, and scared as she felt.
"The Headmaster wished me to remind you to meet him in the Hospital Wing at eight o'clock tomorrow. And please, get a good night's sleep." She sniffed. "You'll certainly need it." McGonagall left the Hall, her emerald robes as tidy as ever.
Ginny looked up to the High Table and saw Dumbledore looking down his glasses at her. His eyes were almost unreadable--she wondered how high his hopes were. She sighed, put down her napkin, and got up from the table. The few people who were left in the Great Hall shot knowing glances at each other as she made her way out to the entrance hall and up the staircases.
I almost wish it could be Cho's job, she thought as she passed a suit of armor that was wheezing gently. Then I could be facing a nice, normal Saturday with Colin, Ingrid, Mela, and Zoe. They had been planning over the summer to teach Colin how to swim, and after Halloween the lake would be too cold... It would probably have to wait until April at this point... if she ever made it to April.
She reached a landing and realized that, deep as she had been in her thoughts, she wasn't where she had headed. Damn, she thought. It's Friday. Sixth to seventh floor east wing staircase leads to North Tower on Fridays, I forgot...As bad as Neville... Sighing, she turned around and was making her way back down the staircase, when a voice arose out of the dimness of the stairwell.
"Ahh, Miss Weasley," came the faint, misty voice.
Ginny closed her eyes and prayed. It was Trelawney. Oh, no, thought Ginny, wishing that her mother hadn't raised her to be so polite.
"Professor Trelawney," Ginny said cordially.
"The Fates informed me that you would find your way to my tower this evening, my child. And what better time than a relaxing Friday evening for reading the cards?" Trelawney daintily adjusted her gauze shawls. "Come, my dear, and we shall have tea together."
"I'm sorry Professor, I was on my way to the common room, and I just got distracted... took a wrong turn..." she muttered. Ginny turned to go, but Trelawney caught her arm.
"I understand that your spirit must be troubled, child. After all, the Boy Who Lived will not live much longer. I have Seen the spectre of Death circling, lower and lower..." Trelawney's voice dropped an octave as she made her pronouncement, staring deep into Ginny's face.
Ginny fought back a snort. Unfortunately, though, this time Trelawney could be getting it right, she realized with a start. Coincidence, she reminded herself.
Trelawney still had Ginny's arm in her grasp, and was gently tugging her towards the stepladder that had descended from the ceiling.
"Please, Professor, I really must go to bed, I've got a long day ahead of me tomorrow..." Ginny tried to pry her arm loose from Trelawney's iron grip.
Trelawney didn't let go. "My child, I see your aura is disturbed by events on the ethereal planes--you really must let me crystal gaze for you--I sense that you are deeply worried and are not letting others share the burden of your troubles."
Ginny sighed, and let herself be herded up the stepladder into Trelawney's office.
It was stiflingly hot. The fire was blazing and the windows were all closed, and the candles were giving off a sickenly sweet smell, rather like some of the Muggle bubble bath her father had bought her once. "Country Peach," the little bottle read, although the ingredients list contained nothing that she recognized, much less could pronounce. She still had the bottle and had resolved to someday get the courage to ask Professor Snape. Dealing with his sarcasm was one thing, but actually approaching him willingly was quite another.
Ginny was brought back to the present by Trelawney placing a large glass sphere on the table between them. "I need you to think of young Mr. Potter, my dear," she announced as she settled herself on a pouf. "Let your mind float free," she intoned, "and your memories roam, unencumbered by reason..."
Well, thinking of Harry wasn't so hard or unpleasant. The images flashed past: his grin in Flourish and Blotts when she'd told Malfoy to leave him alone; him kneeling beside her in the Chamber of Secrets when she woke up from the horrible nightmare of Tom Riddle; being squished next to him in a cab, and how warm his thighs felt; seeing him on the Quidditch pitch catching the Snitch to win the Cup two years ago--and his Patronus shooting out of his wand, a giant silver stag; him looking shaken and worn out after the TriWizard Tournament, with Cedric's body clutched to his side; his kiss at the Burrow... Ginny flushed suddenly, remembering some of their more explorative kissing at Hogwarts.
"I see that you have fond feelings for young Harry," said Trelawney.
Well, it would take an idiot not to notice! thought Ginny. "What else, Professor?" she asked politely, hoping to get it over with as quickly as possible.
"I see..." she gazed intently into the sphere, searching it for something. Then she stepped back quickly. "That can't be right!" she said, suddenly sounding like a normal person. "Harry is marked for death, not... not the other..." she muttered almost too softly for Ginny to hear.
"Professor?"
"Excuse me, Miss Weasley," said Trelawney, returning to her normal airy-fairy voice. "Perhaps it is best if we leave it here..."
"No, Professor, I'd like to know..." If only because it surprised her, Ginny thought. It's probably an accurate seeing this time.
"No, child, it is better if you do not know..."
"Please?" Ginny asked imploringly, laying her hand on Trelawney's thin arm. "Everyone's told me how wonderful your predictions are," she continued flatteringly, "and I really think it's a pity that my Arithmancy class is at the same time..."
"No, my dear, I think you should go," said Trelawney firmly, and Ginny found herself out on the landing with nothing to show for her wasted half hour.
But it seemed as though Trelawney knew nothing about Harry's current condition, or she would have been dancing for joy, Ginny realized. Oh, dear. Things were getting too complicated.
Ginny slept surprisingly well, considering that Saturday could be her last day at Hogwarts--not just that she might get lost in the Pensieve (which Dumbledore assured her was only a small probability), but that her parents might drag her straight back home once they learned what she was doing. Dumbledore and McGonagall had wanted to owl Mrs. Weasley and let her know ahead of time that Ginny was taking extreme risks doing this, but Ginny had managed to convince them that, if her mother knew, Ginny would be on the next train back to London and locked in her room until she was forty.
As it was, she still could be.
And she didn't understand why Dumbledore was letting her risk her life to do this. He was so protective of the students normally, and this just seemed odd. She supposed it was because it was Harry Potter and all that, and that she was just the girl who had the best chance of saving him. What she was saving him from, she didn't know.
Curious students were lined up in the corridors outside the Hospital Wing, and whispers flew as Ginny walked past. Dumbledore had set the time for eight o'clock to try and discourage such rubbernecking, but this was Harry Potter they were dealing with. She saw Cho at one point, but the girl merely gazed at her, unspeaking and unsmiling. The professors were there, ostensibly to keep things under control, but Ginny thought they, too, were probably just curious.
McGonagall was guarding the door to the Infirmary, and let her in with a curt nod. "The Headmaster is waiting for you, Miss Weasley."
Dumbledore was standing next to Harry's bed. The Pensieve lay on a low table next to him, and Ron and Hermione were sitting in chairs at the foot of the bed. Directly adjacent to Harry's bed was a small cot, with pillows and a thick blanket.
Ginny swallowed nervously, then noticed the sounds of an argument coming from Madam Pomfrey's office.
"Poppy, I absolutely forbid it! It would render the potion completely useless--the pH isn't high enough to buffer against stomach acids. And the bloodstream needs to absorb it as quickly as possible!"
"But Severus, the child needs her strength!" Severus? thought Ginny. Snape? "And if we simply added a few more drops of dragon's blood, it can counter the effects..."
There was a slamming sound, as if Snape had hit the desk. "We don't know that, Poppy! The interaction between dragon's blood and caterpillar skins is too delicate--it simply hasn't been studied enough in buffering situations! There are hundreds of possible side effects to be considered! And she's a Weasley, and that family has a documented reaction to dragon's blood that I have already had to take into account!"
The door opened and a very flushed Snape emerged, followed by a glowering Madam Pomfrey.
"I still say she needs nutrition. What if her blood sugar drops too low and she loses focus while in the Pensieve?" she muttered.
Snape came to a halt in front of Ginny, his mask of sneering contempt firmly fixed in place.
"Ahh, Miss Weasley, our newest heroine, come to rescue Mr. Potter." The words and the face were there, but the venom wasn't dripping as thickly as usual.
"Severus--" began Dumbledore warningly.
Snape waved Dumbledore away. "Am I allowed to even consider that you followed the directions and did not eat breakfast?" he asked.
"I have not eaten since dinner last night, Professor," Ginny replied calmly. I could hit him, she thought.
"A Gryffindor who can follow directions! Amazing!" he murmured.
"Severus, may we begin?" asked Dumbledore, with a touch of impatience. Snape nodded shortly, and Dumbledore began to explain the procedure. "Miss Weasley, the plan today is to first have you guide Harry's dreams into the Pensieve. If that cannot be done, then everything else is futile. However, Madam Pomfrey believes strongly that Harry is dreaming, and, judging by the patterns of his eye movements, that they are repetitive dreams, which allows us to 'drain' his thoughts--if the dreams are only single occurrences, then they will be simple memories in the Pensieve, rather than interactive situations.
"The next step after that is taking the potion that Professor Snape has kindly prepared for this purpose. It is akin to Dreamless Sleep, which I believe you are familiar with?" Dumbledore raised his eyes questioningly to Ginny.
Ginny nodded, remembering the Chamber--Madam Pomfrey had had to dose her with it heavily for two days before Ginny was able to deal with the nightmares. "Yes, sir, I am familiar with it."
"This potion, however, is designed to increase your receptivity to dreaming. It will not put you to sleep, though--you will, in a sense, be daydreaming. Once you are fully under its effects, you will need to be aware enough of the present to enter Harry's Pensieve. It will be difficult, Miss Weasley, as the potion will cause severe distractions--you will not necessarily be able to tell real from unreal, as they will be superimposed. The real Pensieve should appear to you to have an aura, and will hopefully draw you to it--the potion should connect you to it. You will know you have succeeded when you see a single world image. Are you ready? Do you have any more questions?"
"Professor?" interrupted Hermione. Ginny started. She'd forgotten they were there.
"Yes, Miss Granger?"
"You said that we could join her..." Ron said.
"Of course, but only in the standard method of Pensieve usage. You will have to wait until Miss Weasley has entered. Ready?" he asked Ginny again.
Ginny could only nod.
"Then let us begin," said Professor Dumbledore, drawing out his wand. "I will help you cast the wards, Miss Weasley..."