Start Chapter: Monday 27 March 2006
PROLOGUEBlood. There was so much blood. The girl who stood alone whose red hair was flinging madly from the wind, stared around her with melancholy. She could feel blood; see blood, and worse of all, taste blood.
The jet-black sky that held a masterpiece of twinkling, never-ending stars gleamed down at her, for the sun had set a long time ago. She remembered those horrible screams, and how many times did she see green light? More then she could count on her eight fingers and two thumbs.
People she met through her life were gone. What was the point of continuing your life, when you had no one to share it with? Where were those persons you held deeply in your heart and won your trust?
Her face pallid and worn, she shed no tears. She had, already, shed for all those she had lost. She was simply too tired to cry anymore, and anyway, all her tears were already wept.
Their hope of defeating Tom Riddle A.K.A Lord Voldemort, or You-Know-Who, was gone. It disappeared as quickly as when one's laughter stopped. It was unnerving and disastrous for the Side of Light when Harry Potter 's body fell, due to his fight against the Dark Lord.
The Side of Light seemed to lose all their courage and determination when their saviour fell. It was then, just then, that they realised how much they depended on Harry Potter, to save the world.
They should've been more prepared, thought the young woman, bitterly. They hadn't thought the War would strike this year. They hadn't heard of any attacks from Death-Eaters since this one, but alas, they should've realised something wasn't right. Death-Eaters don't remain silent. Torture is the only word they know in their vocabulary.
Heaving a sigh, a sigh that suggested the woman was hugely burdened; she scanned across the grounds of Hogwarts. It pained her to see so many students' dead, all the way from First Year's to Seventh Year's. Included with the students that lay so still were the Professors and also that traitorous backstabbing spy, Severus Snape.
Black coated figures swarmed her vision, and the woman, whose name was Ginny Weasley, felt their triumph in the air.
A cold, shivery sensation slipped down her spine, as she waited for their Master. Ginny was the last standing for the Side of Light, and knew she would be severely punished for that.
The Death-Eaters gathered around Ginny as she stood in the middle, trying to hide the strong temptation to tremble with trepidation. She held no backbone like dear Harry, who could have a staring match with Tom without even flinching. If Ginny was frightened in the presence of the Death-Eaters, how could she ever survive meeting Tom Riddle?
How she loathed him! He used her, just to get to Harry, and Ginny let it happen. Her fear quickly forgotten, she clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms.
Fire burned in Ginny's muddy-brown eyes, as her enraged stare swept from Death-Eater to Death-Eater.
Strands of hair sticking onto her cheek from furious sweat, Ginny pulled herself to her full height. She will not give Tom Riddle any satisfaction that he had broken her. She will not die in front of Tom Riddle without a strong, fierce fight.
"Well, well, well Weaslette, I am impressed. Deeply, and that is a compliment."
His voice sent chills down her back. Ginny whipped around, and there he stood, Tom Riddle, not a day older then sixteen. He appeared the same way as when he had come out from that diary. That diary had shattered Ginny's world.
"You!" She hissed, releasing her breath. The woman felt betrayed by herself when her heart started to race. I do not love him anymore, so please do not think otherwise, Ginny pleaded to herself, desperately. She was unwilling to give in to Tom Riddle, now of all times.
As if hearing her thoughts, Tom gave her a sly smile. "Weaslette, you still adore me, don't you? Don't bother denying it, for I can see it in your eyes."
Ginny blanched, and a certain quote from Hermione came back to her: "Your eyes are the window to your soul."
Was that comment true, when Ginny had discarded it years ago for a typical-thing Hermione says? Did Hermione know something back then about the War, or was that just a coincidence?
"I do not adore you!" She spat, pronouncing 'you' as if it was poison on her tongue.
Tom just arched a dubious eyebrow. He didn't believe her, and Ginny hated it when people thought her opinions meant nothing.
Tom gave a long, fake yawn. He was bored, and Ginny knew he would kill her at any moment.
"Right, Weaslette. That's very hard to believe when you still call out my name in your dreams, while tears roll down your cheeks." He paused, and saw with pleasure the effect he wanted.
Ginny tensed up, her throat gone dry. She just froze, and even her mind seemed to stop.
Mimicking Ginny, Tom continued: "Oh Tom, my darling Tom! Why did you leave me? Please Tom, come back to me! Can't I join you, Tom? Tom, Tom! Where are you?"
She told no one of her dreams. How did Tom know? Unless…Scabbers or, Peter Pettigrew known now to her friends. He must've crept into the girls' dormitories when Crookshanks was hanging around in the boys' dormitories, trying to find his trail.
Imagining the disgusting thought of Peter seeing Ginny get undressed for bed, she flinched.
Tom raised his wand, and Ginny closed her eyes and embraced herself, expecting the worst. Grim-faced, he said chillingly, "Goodbye little Weaslette, the last standing for the Side of Light."
He swished his wand down and while saying the awful killing curse; the Phoenix song filled their ears. Ginny saw the red bird flying up to her, a flash of green light, a startled bird's cry, a yell of fury, and then her world faded into nothing.
Voices. There were so many voices. Her eyes flickered open, and she gave a startled yelp at what she saw.
Blinding white light filled the room, and people in beige, long and flowing cloaks stood around her. They didn't fill her with terror underneath their scrutiny like the Death-Eaters did, so Ginny knew they meant no harm.
"Welcome, the youngest Weasley."
Ginny gave a start, as she saw a beautiful woman before her. Her long, pale blonde hair was kept underneath a ghostly-yellow cap, while her blue eyes were shaded away with sunglasses. Ginny was reminded of Narcissa Malfoy.
Ginny got up from her laid position, and brushed down the dust that was on her battle robes. "Where am I?" she demanded, not disguising the wobble in her voice.
"At the moment, young Weasley, that is not important. We are gathered here today because we felt we should offer you another chance."
"Another chance?" Ginny echoed incredulously. She was unsure to believe this enchanting woman in front of her.
The woman bobbed her blonde-head. "Yes, I remember saying that, ever-so correctly. We feel as if we've done a pathetic job of guarding you. You had too many tears in your life, too much sadness."
"What is your proposal?" Ginny cut-in, which one might consider as bluntly. The mysterious figure gave her a gentle smile.
"This chance will be every near-dead person's dream. They get to go back in the past, change all their wrongdoings. Of course, there's a catch."
Ginny stared at her, not able to deliver a word. She felt if she spoke, this wonderful dream would not be true.
The Guardian went on: "You will never be able to come back to the future. You won't even be Ginny Weasley in the past."
"Who would I be?" the young teenager spoke at last, with apprehension.
The Guardian continued, as if Ginny hadn't spoken. "You will turn eleven again, but you will still hold your memories, your power; so mentally you will still be sixteen. You will be in the same year as Harry Potter, not a year younger. You will never reveal what I am telling you, especially not to: Harry Potter, Albus Dumbledore and the continuing Ginny Weasley, whose life will still exist.
"If you accept the offer, your new name will be Felicia Macadam. We will have your new family ready for you: all Purebloods, so you will be safe from any Muggle-haters. Everyone will have memories of you being their forever: your friends, your family, and your teachers.
"We will have to change a bit of your appearance, for fear of people realising you're Ginny Weasley. We will change the colour of your eyes, we will turn your hair a shade darker then it is, and we will change some of your other features slightly.
"So the youngest Weasley, do you accept the offer?"
Does she have enough courage to? Imagine watching yourself when you grow up, watching yourself falling in love with Harry Potter. Did Ginny really want to be ripped from this world, going to the old world like a helpless person, and watching it get torn again?
However, she had knowledge about the War. She could tell the past-Dumbledore about Snape's scandal, she could inform him who the spies were in Order of the Phoenix!
Ginny could make the past world into a better world, and she could even avoid them the petrifying War!
A smile graced her lips. It hurt her do it, for she hadn't smiled for such a long time. The smile melted once Ginny remembered about her tough predicament.
Ginny pondered on the matter of her going back to the past, and a small headache erupted in the back of her mind. This was happening fast, too fast, that it wounded Ginny to think about the confusing possibilities and cons of the dilemma.
The woman in front of her started to tap her foot, showing Ginny that she was quickly losing her patience. Seeing this gesture, Ginny felt anger surge her.
How could this woman be so impatient – so thoughtless Ginny tried to resist lashing out at the God-like figure. She bit her lip to stop herself from insulting the elder lady, and felt the blood seep onto her tongue.
Ginny had tasted blood before, but it was always a horrible experience. When the blood oozed itself onto her tongue it felt slimey, bitter even.
"I can't make my decision while you're tapping your foot," The redhead pointed out, darkly.
To irate her more the Guardian just grinned. It was a smile that made you feel she was laughing at a private joke that you were unaware of.
"I should've told you before, for you're timed. You have –now– a minute to choose your decision. If you take longer then a minute –I will count you down – the option will be closed. You will get zapped into either Heaven or Hell."
Ginny actually thought her heart had stopped when she heard those words. Those weren't pleasing to hear. Just a minute, one minute, to make such an enormous decision?
Then the picture of Tom Riddle's icy victory face zoomed into her mind, and Ginny literally quivered with red-hot fury. Tom Riddle once again tried to kill her but had lost, if Ginny chose to go back to the past.
Finally Ginny nodded her head, in a tired and weary way. "I'll go back to the past, and I'll become 'Felicia Macadam," conceded Ginny, resignedly.
The Guardian nodded, looking pleased. "Remember the Rules, young one. Also remember the changes in your appearance aren't reversible, so you'll be forever that way. Remember you must never tell your true identity to others. And remember-" here Ginny cringed, expecting something insulting, "-to have fun."
Ginny reared back in surprise at the mystical Goddess' remark. She raised her eyebrows, showing her amazement.
"You're not half bad as I thought you were," Ginny admitted, rather grudgingly.
The Guardian curtsied. "That's what I was thinking, too. Deep inside you there is a strong and mature woman, not an immature and grouchy child I have been talking with before now."
Ignoring the blatant insult, Ginny asked in a lot shyer voice: "When…when will the portal open?"
The woman hushed Ginny, and a second later the Guardian's eyes were closed, but fire was flickering through the eyelids. Ginny gasped at the magnificent sight unfolding in front of her.
She was whispering words underneath her breath, it was so low Ginny couldn't catch a single syllable. Then she suddenly pointed her index finger at Ginny, like her eyes her fingertips were also on fire, and Ginny felt the rushing sensation of wind spurting around her and fiercely toying with her hair.
The ever-so white room blackened considerably. The roof split and fell away, but strangely it didn't fall on top of them. Like when people enter spaceships that were above them, a vivid light appeared from the sky and fell upon Ginny. She felt herself being sucked up, and Ginny didn't like it at all. It made her spin, and she had to squash down the feeling of vomit back down her throat.
She closed her eyes and tucked in her elbows. This reminded her of using Floo Powder, but much, much worse. As Ginny continued to spin, a very dark and unwanted memory came back to her:
Ginny was sent up to Dumbledore's office, along with Harry, Hermione and Ron. Ginny was nervous, and even that was an understatement. She was behind the trio, who whispered to each other, frantically. It appeared they'd already forgotten Ginny was there.
Holding down that bitter anger of being so quickly forgotten, Ginny corrected herself tiredly that it was McGonagall's office, now. Dumbledore passed last year from Snape's horrendous betrayal, and McGonagall loyally took Dumbledore's place.
However McGonagall had changed the tradition of anything to do with sweets to get into her office. The passwords were now based on animals, whether magical or not.
"Giant," said Harry, repeating what the Head-Boy had told him, earlier on. Nerves of why being called to the office started to fill Ginny's brittle heart as she reluctantly climbed up those long, winding stairs.
"Harry, is this about…" Hermione's voice trailed off with an uncertain air as her eyes landed on Ginny.
Placing a too sweet of a smile on her face, Ginny said idly: "Yes?"
She knew whenever Hermione's voice -or Harry and Ron's- trailed off when she was around, Ginny knew it was something important and it was None Of Her Business. Hermione threw a desperate look at the boys, which unfortunately got caught by the youngest girl. Eyes flashing and going to a darker shade, she swung around to face Hermione.
"What was that, 'Mione?" Ginny spat out, using Ron and Harry's favourite nickname for her. "Go on, say whatever the damn thing was you wanted to say! Or is it because I'm here, that you can't say it? Am I too frigging young to hear what you have to say? Am I discarded as Non-Important, so you can't share any important information with me – that might even help me in the future?"
Ginny didn't realise her speech had gotten so shrill that by the end of it Harry, Hermione and Ron had covered their ears with their hands. One look from all of them told Ginny they heard and regretted their earlier actions.
Giving her bushy-haired friend a piercing stare, Ginny's fake smile left her face. She demanded scathingly; "Tell me what you were going to say, 'Mione!"
Ginny wasn't aware that Ron's ears were slowly turning scarlet and they were narrowing.
"You sound like a bloody Slytherin!" he blurted out. Ginny's attention that had been fixed on Hermione turned to Ron.
Eyes glittering dangerously and her lips set into a straight line, no amusement marred on her face, she screamed: "Don't you dare tell me I'm like Them, Ronald Billius Weasley! Don't you think the War has changed my personality? I happen to be a lot more independent and mature, to prepare myself if anyone close to me dies! I don't want to be treated like a little Kid anymore, Ronald!"
Tears threatened to fall from her eyes. The three found themselves standing outside McGonagall's office. The door opened, and then –
Ginny's eyes snapped open as the feeling of nausea and the spinning stopped. Overwhelmed with relief, she sank onto her bed.
What – bed? Ginny jumped up from the vast bed and cowered and sat in front of the door. Heart pounding in her chest, Ginny couldn't believe her surroundings. It was a bedroom that every little girl wants (unfortunately Ginny didn't get the chance): the wallpaper was bright pink with pictures of mystical creatures; the bed was king-size with red duvets that had purple hearts; the left wall had a huge shelf that was occupied with dolls and the doll-house was underneath it; ahead of her was a colossal wooden bookshelf that contained a numerous of books; on the right beside the door was a gigantic mahogany wardrobe; and on the other side of the door was a large, full-length mirror.
To say Ginny was gob-smacked was an understatement. She was brought out of her reverie when a small voice piped up:
"M-miss F-Felicia? Miss, a-a-are you alright?"
Large, black ball-like eyes peered down at her, concern swirling in their orbs. Ginny blinked, and blinked again. It took a moment or two to register she was Felicia. In this world she was Felicia Macadam, not Ginny Weasley.
Ginny nodded her head, while shivering. The memory was still raw to her of those plentiful dead bodies that lay on the Hogwarts grounds. She would never get rid of that experience.
Casting her eyes down to the floor, she whispered a bit hesitantly; "I am sorry to worry you, erm…"
Ginny looked up, eyebrows knitting together with confusion. In a rather embarrassed tone that hadn't been used for ages, she went on, "I didn't catch you're name."
The House-Elf literally bounced up and down with bubbling happiness and incredulity. The shyness she held before was evaporated as she sent Ginny a worship-like smile, and Ginny was reminded of Dobby.
"Miss, you want to know my name? Oh Miss, you are so wonderful and brilliant! The…the name's Dusty, Miss, Dusty!"
Feeling proud that she made this She-Elf so cheerful, Ginny instructed her, "Please don't call me 'Miss' – I sound too old. Call me Ginny, instead."
Dusty gave her a look showing her perplexity. "Ginny, Miss? Isn't it Felicia?"
Ginny clamped her hand to her mouth with horror, as she realised her stupid, idiotic mistake. She'd already let out a slip and it could cost her her identity. Briefly closing her eyes with dismay, Ginny mumbled hastily, "Sorry Dusty, about that. Got a bit carried away from a book I was reading. Ginny was a main character from the book."
Dusty bobbed her ugly head, her earlier bewilderment gone. "Oh Felicia, I never knew how clever you were!"
Twirling a red lock through her fingers, Ginny pondered whether or not she should tell Dusty of her true identity. The House-Elf might understand her, and Dusty surely wouldn't hold any prejudice against Ginny's heritage. Then again…The Guardian did tell Ginny not to tell anyone about the time-chance.
You are correct, Miss Weasely.
Ginny gasped out aloud at the voice, and Dusty, again, looked at her with worry.
You are in my mind! She shrieked in her thoughts, wondering if The Guardian had enough power to look through her memories.
I am here to guide you through your way, so you won't make mistakes like you did seconds ago. Also to keep you accompanied, if you feel like talking about the Secret, just think about me. Oh, I also have the privilege to look through your memories.
What? That's preposterous! You're invading my privacy! I think I'm going mad.
It is impossible to avoid, Miss Weasley. You will automatically receive memories and you can't stop it.
But-but ---- I don't need to be guided through this life! Do you know who taught me how to protect my self? Harry Potter himself!
And he's dead. Great protecting. You need basic help, like knowing what to expect from your –Felicia's- parents.
Ginny hadn't thought of that. Staring widely around the room, Dusty hurriedly ran off and came back with a glass of freezing water. She handed it to Ginny, while the teenager murmured her thanks, and with bliss sipped the drink.
A sudden knock on the door made Ginny jump up with a startle cry.
Who is that? She ordered The Guardian. Ginny could just picture her smirking.
Why, that is them.
That night Ginny Weasley, Muggle-Lover like the rest of her family, became Felicia Macadam: a rich, snobby and a proud Pureblood.