Chapter 13
A Mistaken Identity
Ginny straightened out her robes and adjusted the bag on her shoulders. The last thing she needed today was Hermione interrogating her in the middle of the Ministry. After a deep breath to help her relax, she walked toward the doorway.
"Ginny, stop!" a voice called out from behind her.
Ginny groaned and kept walking. "Excellent. You've been following me too, have you?"
"I don't need to. Everyone knows you come here almost every night to read the Prophet and talk with that crazy old wizard."
"He's not crazy!" Ginny replied defensively. "He's just... had a lot of life experience," she finished lamely. "And he doesn't pester me for things I can't tell him."
"That's because he's barely aware of anything beyond that bottle of his," Hermione shot back. "I know something is going on, Ginny. I know something happened in Romania. You ran from something, and now you're keeping it a secret."
"You're not listening very well, are you?" she shouted over her shoulder. "I told you I can't talk about it." Ginny pulled her wand out, but Hermione leapt for her and caught her arm before she could tap the wall.
"Why not?" Hermione asked in a lower voice.
"Because it's confidential information related to Romania," Ginny replied mechanically. She was certain it was not going to be the last time she'd be forced to say that.
"Confidential?" Hermione said with quiet anger. "Oh, I see. It's confidential," she whispered sarcastically. "And everything that I've told you is just a day away from being in the Daily Prophet."
Ginny wrenched her arm away from Hermione and reached for the wall. The tip of her wand tapped the stones lightly and they began to slowly rearrange themselves to form an arched doorway. "I know you weren't supposed to tell me any of that, but this is different. You have to trust me, you'll be safer if you don't know."
"Is this supposed to be some kind of bloody joke?" Hermione shouted as Ginny stepped through the doorway. "Come back here, Ginny. We need to talk."
Ginny kept walking. "I'm not stopping you from talking," Ginny said as she walked toward the bar.
Hermione leaped forward and tugged on Ginny's robes. "You know we can't talk here," she hissed.
"There's nothing we could talk about that we can't talk about here," Ginny replied with a forced calmness. She turned her back on Hermione and walked to the bar, where Tom was already fetching her copy of the Prophet.
"Evening, Ginny," he said with a smile. "Welcome back to England. How was your trip?"
"Oh, it was surprisingly enjoyable," she replied sweetly. "I met such wonderful people there."
Tom grunted and pushed the Daily Prophet across the bar. "Must be nice. I was stuck with this lot all weekend. Maybe I'm just tired of the rest of them, but it sure feels quiet around here when you're gone."
"Thanks, Tom," Ginny said, ignoring Hermione behind her. She walked over to where Albert was quietly sitting and staring into a half-empty glass. She took a seat next to him, and glared at Hermione. "I'm sorry. Did you want to talk with me about something? It wasn't Azkaban, was it? I heard it's really unpleasant there."
"It wasn't Azkaban," Hermione replied angrily. "This is serious, Ginny."
"You're sure it wasn't Azkaban, though? I've heard it's very serious there, as well. Very gloomy."
Hermione fumed. Her hands were clutched tightly into fists until her knuckles were pale. With an enraged growl, she spun around and walked back out of the pub, pushing past a small group of wizards who'd just entered the pub. Ginny frowned and let out a sigh.
"Who was that you just scared off?" asked Albert as he continued to inspect his glass as though he had never seen it before. "Not that I blame you. She seemed an angry sort of witch. They're rarely enjoyable to have around."
"Oh, that was just Hermione," Ginny replied as she signaled Tom for a butterbeer. "She'll be alright."
"Hermione?" Albert repeated. He put his glass down and stared at the rough wood of the bar instead. "It's not a common name, is it? Hermione... I've heard it before." Ginny took a bottle from Tom, and pretended she hadn't heard Albert. She didn't want to talk about Hermione any more than she wanted to talk to her.
"Hold on," Albert said as he looked up from the bar. "Hermione Granger. Was that Hermione Granger?" Ginny took a drink of butterbeer and nodded. Albert smiled at her. "Wasn't she one of Harry Potter's friends?"
Ginny nearly choked on her butterbeer. She stared at Albert for a moment before answering, "Yes. Yes she was one of his best friends."
"Was she?" Albert replied thoughtfully. "I've always been told that Harry Potter picked his friends well. I'd have thought she would have been a little more... well, friendly, I suppose. Does she always harass people like that?"
"Well... sometimes, I guess," Ginny said with a smile, "but she wasn't really harassing me. Hermione is my friend." Ginny put down her bottle and looked toward the doorway Hermione had left through moments earlier. "She's probably the best friend I have."
"Looks like you need some better friends," Albert commented, then frowned and shook his head. "Maybe she was nicer when Potter was around. People say that no one ever really changes, but they're wrong. The world can be cruel, and that can change people, sometimes right in front of your eyes. I guess that's the nature of things. All magic breaks down eventually." He looked down at his glass, then tipped it back, emptying its contents in seconds.
"It's tragic, really," he said. "So what happened between you and this Hermione? Is she jealous of your job? Maybe just your success?" Ginny shook her head and Albert gave her a strange look. "It's not about some bloke is it? Maybe Harry Potter? Maybe she hasn't quite gotten over him?"
"Gotten over Harry?" Ginny nearly shouted. "No, she and Harry were never like that."
"Ah, so you knew him, then?"
"Yes," Ginny answered quietly. "We― We were both at Hogwarts together. He helped me out a bit my first year."
"That's sounds like him," Albert said with a smile. "So, if it's not Potter, maybe it's some other bloke. It's always a bloke with witches your age. I'm always surprised they have time to eat, but then, looking at them, maybe they don't. 'Course, the blokes like that nowadays, so it only encourages them. Madness," he said shaking his head and blinking at her. "You don't fancy the same bloke, do you?"
"Hermione has been going out with my brother for two years now," Ginny answered.
Albert's eyes widened and he leaned closer to Ginny. "And you fancy him, too, is that it?"
Ginny nearly spit out her butterbeer. "No!" she shouted disgustedly.
"Ah, right. Yes, of course. Very good," Albert agreed as if he'd never thought differently. "Still, I've seen these things turn sour all the time. Good, even tempered wizards seduced by shallow, manipulative witches who only want them for their money. I don't blame you for mistrusting that Granger woman."
"That's not how it is," Ginny said. "Hermione's great, I swear, and I don't mistrust her. I'd trust her with my life ―and I have― but this is... different. If too many people see her talking to me, she'll, er... she'll be in quite a bit of trouble, and maybe worse."
Albert frowned and set his glass down loudly. "Right," he said sternly. "I never could stand all that trouble-causing. It's fine when it's some wizard selling faulty brooms off a cart, but it's not nice to run about causing trouble for young witches. It's just not proper," he said, jabbing his finger into the top of the bar. "They should know better."
Ginny just stared at him in bewilderment. "Who are you talking about?"
"I don't rightly know," Albert said, shaking his head. "Who were you talking about?"
"The wizards in the Department of Mysteries," Ginny answered. "That's where she works."
"Ah. Right, then. Them," Albert said, drinking yet another glass. "They're even worse."
"Worse than whom?"
"I don't know," he declared, "but they're worse than most, I'd say." He put his glass back down on the bar and leaned closer to her. "Now, I don't mean any disrespect, but you really should pay more attention. You work for the Ministry, now. They do serious work there."
Ginny goggled at him. "Albert, have you ever wondered if there might be any... permanent consequences to drinking as often and as much as you do?"
He frowned and filled another glass. "Well, I admit I have considered it a time or two," he told her. "I never really got too far with it, though. I remember a while back, some wizard was trying to convince me it was bad for me. Or at least I think he was," Albert mumbled. "Well, he certainly sounded like he knew what he was talking about. I tried to pay attention, but he wasn't very persuasive. I can't speak a word of German, but that's all he'd use. Oh, how was Germany?"
"It was fine," Ginny answered flatly, still staring at Albert and trying to figure out what they'd been talking about. "I didn't get to see much of it, to be honest. I was stuck in the castle the whole time."
"The whole time?" he asked. "Hmm. It's not surprising, but it doesn't really explain why you've got two wizards following you."
Ginny stiffened in her seat, but made no move to try and find the wizards Albert was talking about. "They've been following me for quite a while now," she said calmly.
"Yes, they have," Albert agreed, "but they used to try and hide. These two look almost as if they want you to see them. And they're not Ministry wizards."
"No, I wouldn't expect they would be," Ginny said in a low voice.
"Are you alright?" Albert asked seriously. "I mean, are you in danger? If you are, I know some wizards who might be able to help. They're old friends of mine. You can trust them. If you need someplace safe to go, they can help you."
"That's alright, Albert," Ginny said with a frown, "I'll be fine. I don't think it's that bad yet. However, it's probably bad enough that you shouldn't spend much time around me. You'll end up getting pulled into this too." Ginny slipped off her stool and nodded to Tom.
"I think I've had a long enough life to risk a little danger," Albert said as he raised his glass to her and drank it. "Don't you worry about me. If you find yourself in trouble, you know where to find me."
"I do," Ginny said with a nod. "I really should go. Good night, Albert." As Ginny walked away, she looked at the pair of wizards who had been watching her. She recognized one of them as the wizard she'd spoken to at the Ministry. The other didn't look familiar at all. Just like the Ministry, they made no move to follow her. Still, she took no chances and Apparated away as soon as she could.
Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place was completely dark, yet Ginny found herself feeling rather apprehensive as she approached the door. It opened the same way it always had, and revealed the same dark entryway that she'd walked into a hundred times before, yet something felt off.
She closed the door behind her and waited a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. As she waited, she thought she heard faint noises coming from the kitchen. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out her wand and slowly crept forward toward the door to the kitchen. She reached the door and slowly pushed it open.
Against the black, she saw a lighter silhouette of a person standing in the corner. She raised her wand and prepared to cast some appropriate hex. Suddenly she heard footsteps to her left. She twisted and found a second shape walking toward her.
"Stupefy!" she shouted.
The beam of light from her wand struck the shape, but bounced off into the ceiling. The shape dropped to the ground, but the other one in the corner was running for her. She tried to get another hex off, but it was too late and she was knocked to the ground. As she struggled against her attacker, she felt a pair of hands wrapping around her wand hand, trying to pry her wand free.
"Lights!" a voice cried out, and a number of lamps flared to life around the room. In the rapidly growing light, Ginny found herself faced with a blonde witch who couldn't be much older than she was. Ginny froze as she realized she recognized something in the witch's face. When Ginny stopped fighting, the witch pinning her to the ground stopped as well. She stared down at Ginny with a look of surprised terror.
"You... You are her," she said with a French accent. She jumped up, backing away as if Ginny might suddenly burst into flame. "It is her. She is here. I must go. It is not safe." she mumbled.
Ginny pushed herself up on her elbows and found Harry climbing back to his feet. "Harry, I― I didn't know it was you. I just saw... What's going on? Why was the room dark?"
He didn't reply. Instead, he pocketed his wand and rushed over to the girl who'd tackled Ginny. He grabbed her shoulders. "It's alright," he told her in a comforting voice. "You're safe. We're all safe here." The woman clutched at Harry's arms and stared into his eyes. A mysterious pain pricked at Ginny's chest.
"No―" the young woman insisted, "―not with her here. It's her they want. They'll come for her."
"Who'll come for me?" Ginny asked, feeling a little annoyed at Harry for completely ignoring her.
"The dark ones," the other witch replied fearfully, "in hoods and masks."
"Hoods and masks? The Death Eaters?" Ginny asked. "Are you certain they were wearing masks? Sometimes you just can't see their faces. The Death Eaters, they're just a nuisance now. It's the Brotherhood wizards who've been trying to kill me."
"Kill you? No. They don't want you dead." the witch responded. "A few perhaps, out of spite, but not the ones in charge, and certainly not that bastard D'Anneau. He never wanted you dead, and after he met you..." Her voice trailed off and her eyes looked blankly at the floor.
"Hold on," Ginny said, ignoring the tightness in her chest and the growing warmth in her face. "Henri D'Anneau was killed by the Brotherhood. Are you trying to say that he was one of them?"
"Henri is dead," Harry said firmly. "It doesn't matter who he claimed to support. He supported himself and cared only for himself. He only joined the Brotherhood to use them for his own gains. He was too arrogant to realize that someone else might do the same to him."
"But he never did anything," Ginny said. "They killed him before he could do anything. If they trusted him so little, why let him near me?"
"Because that is all they wanted him to do," the witch explained. "Now that I see you, I understand. They recruited him because they knew what he would do when he met you. They knew he would try to keep you close to him. They knew he would bring you to the Brotherhood."
"How many delegates did they search through before they found him?" Ginny asked skeptically.
"None," the witch answered with a confused look. "D'Anneau has been a member of the Brotherhood for ten months. They are the reason why he was on the delegation. They are the reason he was the head delegate. Ten months ago, they picked him for one purpose. When he was no longer useful, they killed him. It might be the best thing they've done in a century."
Ginny frowned and pushed herself to a sitting position. "They killed him because he was going to tell me about the Brotherhood. He failed them."
"Did he?" the witch responded. "What do you think happened that night?"
"Enough," Harry interrupted.
"I want to hear what she's got to say, Harry!"
"I know, and that's the problem," he said. "She's got too much to say. The Brotherhood will hunt her down."
Ginny scowled at Harry. "The Brotherhood is already hunting me down, and you didn't have any problem telling her more than you told me," she added bitterly.
"It's not like that," the other witch said as she sat down at the table. "He hasn't told me anything. I know because... because my sister told me. My name is Sophie Morel. My sister was Sabine D'Anneau. She had been talking about you for months. I had assumed that Harry knew about you, but I had been told that you didn't know about him."
"I didn't," Ginny said, "but I do now. Harry wanted it to be a secret, but it seems it didn't matter. One of the Brotherhood wizards was waiting for me by the guard's desk in the Ministry Entrance Hall."
"Did he do anything... odd?" Harry asked.
"Yeah, nothing at all," she answered. "He just stood there. He asked me what time it was, but he was probably just trying to get me to realize I had bruises on my wrists. He was there when I left, too. And then he brought a friend to the Leaky Cauldron."
"Did you tell anyone about Romania?" Harry asked forcefully. "Anyone at all?"
"No. Why? What's going on?"
"Something has happened," he said gravely, "something very serious. Sophie was right. The Death Eaters are trying to find you. The Brotherhood told them that you would be coming with me to rescue Sophie."
"They lied," Ginny said. "They knew I hadn't gone with you this morning. Why would they lie to the Death Eaters? Why would the Death Eaters even listen to them after what happened in the Ministry?"
"I can't really say. Maybe the Brotherhood convinced them it was necessary, maybe the Death Eaters didn't realize the tip came from the Brotherhood, or maybe the Brotherhood offered them something that was worth the risk. There are plenty of reasons why they might work together, but I can't figure out why they chose to start now."
"Well, there was something," Ginny announced. "The Ministry knows something happened in Romania, but none of the details, especially not the part we played. However, they all want to know. Harrington, Reynard, and even the Minister wanted me to tell them what had happened. I'd have been forced to tell them, but Tarus offered to make me the Official Liaison to Romania."
"He did what?"
Ginny took some time to explain everything that Harrington and Mrs. Reading had told her about her new position. The more Harry heard, the more troubled he looked. She went on to tell them about the request she'd passed on to the Minister, and what she'd seen at the Leaky Cauldron. When she was finished, Harry was sitting in a chair with his face buried in his hands, looking as though he were deep in thought.
"Tarus said he didn't know what happened?"
"No."
"And he didn't need the Aurors immediately?"
"No, he just wanted Scrimgeour to get more of them. It sounded like they'll have to find about twenty more. I guess they can try to convince all the Aurors who retired or quit to come back for a year. It'd be faster than trying to rush students through the courses," Ginny commented. "What does it all mean?"
"It means we still have some time," Harry answered.
"Time for what?"
"Time to prepare for the war," he said. "It's very close now. It hasn't started yet, and I'm not sure why. If Tarus is asking the Ministry for Aurors, then I don't have much time to talk to Ron and Hermione."
"We can send an owl to Hermione right now," suggested Ginny. "She'll know to come here. She already knows something is happening. She might even know some things you don't."
"They watch her too closely. If they saw her get an owl and then Disapparate somewhere they couldn't find her, they'd guess she was coming to talk to me. I need to find some other way," he said. The room fell silent as Ginny and Sophie watched Harry think. Finally, he opened his eyes and looked at Ginny. "What about Ron? They don't watch him as closely. If we sent a message to him, he could pass it on to Hermione. It'd look suspicious if they both came here, but we might be able to use him to pass a message to her."
"We might, but not tonight," Ginny said. "He's got a match tomorrow, so no owls will get to him ―as if getting an owl might somehow ruin their excellent chances tomorrow," she added disgustedly.
"Ron's got a match tomorrow? Where?"
"Holyhead," Ginny replied. "They don't have a chance."
"It's going to be a short match?"
"Unless lightning strikes their Seeker, and even then I'd put my Galleons on the Harpies."
"That's how we'll do it," Harry said excitedly. He leaped to his feet and started rummaging through the cabinets of half-made potions and various ingredients. With a disgusted frown, he closed the cabinet and walked to another cabinet.
"Whatever you're looking for, it's not in there," Ginny commented. "It's locked tight. I've tried everything on it."
Harry pulled out his wand and tapped the small wooden handle. With a light click the door opened smoothly. Ginny stared at it in amazement, and Harry shrugged. "You didn't try everything," he said. "You tried everything you could find. The book you needed was locked in here." Harry pulled out a grey cloak and quickly wrapped it around his shoulders.
Ginny recognized the style immediately. It was the same type of cloak the Brotherhood wore. "Where did you get that?" she asked him.
"From the Brotherhood," he replied simply. "Some of the places I go make the Lower City in Romania feel friendly. I couldn't walk two steps without being hexed by every wizard in sight, but they don't ask any questions to Brotherhood wizards."
"Where do you need to go?" Ginny asked.
"Spain," he answered as he pulled the hood of the cloak over his head.
"What? Why?"
"Because they won't be looking for me in Spain and I have some things to buy," he explained. "You, er... found something in Giza, a golden ring on a chain. Do you still have it?"
"Yes."
"Have you shown it to anyone?"
"No," Ginny said. "―Wait, yes. I showed it to a friend at the Leaky Cauldron. No one else saw it and he told me to make sure I kept it hidden."
"The Leaky Cauldron? You showed something like that to some friend you made at a pub?"
"It's alright, Harry. Even if he did tell anyone else about it, they'd never believe him. He― He can be a bit strange."
"But you take his advice? I guess it does explain some of the things you've done," he mumbled.
"He's a good wizard, Harry!" Ginny declared. "He's helped me out more than once. He's old, but he's rich and he wants to help. He said he has friends who could help us."
"That's excellent, Ginny," Harry said as he tightened the straps on his boots. "When the Brotherhood attacks, I'll let you lead the drunkard army. While you think up some strategies, may I borrow the ring?"
"What does it do?" she asked. "Albert said it was dangerous."
"Well, he was right. It's not terribly magical, but the last wizard who picked one up was killed for simply touching it. They'll kill me whether I've got it or not, so I'm not terribly worried. It will help me get what I need, though."
Ginny tried to get him to explain more, but he was very eager to leave and refused to say anything more. She fetched the golden talisman from a locked jewelry box in one of the bedrooms and handed it to him.
"I'll be back in a few hours," he said as he slipped the chain around his neck. "Get something to eat. Get some rest if you can."
"What about me?" Sophie called out from the other side of the room. "Am I just going to live here?"
"No," Harry answered. "You'd never be able to leave, and I won't let you live like that. When I return, I'll take you to Canada. There are some wizards there who will help you start a new life. They'll make sure that you're safe until this war is over."
He turned back to Ginny and gave her a weak smile. "I have to go. I'm sorry. There is so much I have to do. I will be back. I promise." Without another word, he turned and strode out of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.
Ginny and Sophie ate a very quiet and somewhat awkward meal. Ginny restrained her desire to try and get Sophie to talk about the things she had learned. Sophie seemed content to do little more than sit and eat. When they had finished the meal, they moved into the study and Ginny made some tea for them to drink as they waited for Harry to return.
Three hours after he'd left, Ginny heard Harry walk through the front door. She found him in the kitchen, hanging a medium-sized black cauldron in the fireplace. He slid an iron lid onto the cauldron and started a small fire.
"What's that?" she asked once he was finished.
"It's, er... something for tomorrow."
Ginny raised an eyebrow at him. "You can't even tell me what's in the cauldron?"
"I can, but I don't have time. It's, er... complicated. If I told you now, you'd just ask more questions than I have time to answer," Harry said, as he ran back to the locked cabinet. He quickly shed his cloak and tossed the chain and talisman back to her. "Put that someplace safe. Don't ever let it leave this house." Ginny stared at it for a moment, inspecting it for any sign that it had been used for some purpose. Meanwhile, Harry was slipping another cloak around himself, a black one this time.
"Now where are you going?" Ginny asked flatly.
"Canada," he answered, "with Sophie. We have to leave as soon as we can. There's no time."
"What's happening, Harry? Who are we fighting?"
"Right now, we're fighting the Death Eaters," he said as he pulled a large bag from the cabinet and began filling it with a pair of bottles and some smaller items.
"Death Eaters? What do they want?"
"The only thing they ever want," he replied. "They remember the mistake they made seventeen years ago. They all thought that Voldemort was dead, but he wasn't. They aren't going to fall for that again."
"But he is dead... isn't he?"
Harry hesitated for a moment, then stopped, packing the bag and stood up. "Yes. He has to be dead," he said, sounding less confident than Ginny had hoped. He looked at her and frowned. "I've been trying to get them to realize that for a year now. I don't suppose you've thought of something that might work? I haven't tried singing yet, do you think that might do it?"
"I don't think so."
Harry closed the cabinet, walked to the counter and tossed a single loaf of bread in the bag. "I guess we'll just have to fight them for now," he said with a dramatic sigh. He tied up the bag and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Ginny sitting alone. A moment later, he walked back through the door, with Sophie following him.
"We've got to go, Ginny," Harry announced as he stood by the door leading to the foyer. "It's going to take time. We'll have to use the Floo System, so that means we're going to be doing some running and probably a little hiding as well. I don't think I'll be back before midnight. Please try and get some sleep. We'll need it tomorrow. If I'm not back before Ron's match, then I'll need you to tell him to come back here and not leave. I am coming back. I promise you."
Ginny nodded weakly as he opened the door and pulled Sophie out of the room, and then out of the house.
She tried all sorts of things to occupy her mind as the night wore on. Nothing worked. Now that she knew Harry was alive, she was consumed with fears of all the things he was doing and all the danger he was in. She was encouraged by the thought that he'd being doing this for a year, and yet she knew that no one's luck lasted forever and Harry had been testing his luck quite a bit recently.
She spent an hour trying to get into the locked cabinet he'd been using. She'd always ignored it. It was just another locked thing in the house that no one could open. How many other things had Harry locked to keep their contents a secret from her? For the most part, she was trying to open it just to give her something to think about other than an army of Death Eaters hunting Harry. A smaller part of her wanted to know just what he kept in there that he still needed to keep hidden.
When it became obvious that she wouldn't get it open, she moved on to other things. She cleaned the kitchen, and even took some time to make a weak sleeping potion. She couldn't bring herself to drink it quite yet. Instead, she rearranged the furniture in the study and fixed up the bedroom Harry had always liked.
Slowly, her long day caught up with her, and she forced herself to do as Harry told her. She walked up the stairs to the closest bedroom, and crawled into the bed. She drank the potion she'd made and hoped for a deep, dreamless sleep.
Ginny awoke the next day to sunlight shining into the bedroom. For a moment, it was relaxing and pleasant, then she remember what had happened the previous day. "Harry!" she gasped as her eyes snapped open. It was morning and he hadn't woken her up. Where was he? Had he returned? Her arm shot out to the bed stand where she'd put her wand.
A voice rang out across the room, "Relax," it said, "I'm right here."
Ginny lifted her head and found Harry sitting in a chair on the other side of the room, tracing his wand across the pages of a large book. "I was afraid you wouldn't sleep," he said. "I'm glad you did. You must have been tired."
Ginny sat up, rubbed her eyes, and replied, "Yes, well, it is a lot easier to sleep when you're not tied to an old table."
"Perhaps for you," Harry agreed as he paged through the book, "but it's so much more boring this way."
Ginny swung her feet over the edge of the bed and stood up. "I'm sure it is," she mumbled. "You never did explain just how you know so much about my knickers."
Harry finally looked up from his book. "Ah, right. I was just thinking of just how much I'd love to explain that to you, but I didn't want it to be rushed, and we don't really have a surplus of time right now."
"Very well," Ginny said as she quickly jabbed her wand at Harry. He tossed his book and tried to dive away, but he was too slow. His legs froze where they were and his torso flopped forward, pulling his wand from his hand and dropping it to the floor by his feet. He struggled for a moment before stopping and glaring at Ginny.
"Ginny, we don't have time for this. I was trying to be nice. I let you sleep in. We've only got two hours before Ron's match."
"That'll be plenty of time," she said smoothly. "I look terrible. I need to clean up and get dressed and I obviously cannot trust you. So you can stay here while I get ready."
Harry glared at her. "Fine," he replied in defeat, "but be quick. We've got other things to do before we go. And can you at least give me my book?"
Ginny walked over to the chair Harry was stuck in and picked up the book. The title of the book was written in bold letters across the cover: Hexes for Hundreds of Hazards.
"Something in here you needed for today?" Ginny asked as she leafed through it.
"No," Harry growled, "I'm just looking for something to occupy my time."
"Then cheer up, Harry," she said with a smile, "at least you're still wearing all your clothes." She tucked the book under her arm and walked out the door.
Almost an hour later, she returned and freed Harry with a flick of her wand. He glared at her as he leaned forward to pick up his wand. "Come on," he said, "we need to be at the match in an hour." He took his book back from a smiling Ginny and walked silently down the stairs and into the kitchen.
"And just what are you planning on doing when we get there?" Ginny asked. "I hope you're not planning to grab him and tie him to a table, because I'm not terribly interested in seeing Ron without his robes."
"No, I don't plan on having to save Ron after he runs into a pack of thieves, either," Harry shot back at her.
Ginny flashed a playful scowl. "So what are you planning on doing?" she asked. "There's no way they're going to let you on the pitch and you're not going to be able to get him alone any other time. He'll probably go straight to Hermione's flat after the match. Or were you planning to talk to them both there?"
"No," Harry replied immediately, "I don't think either one of us is safe in Hermione's flat. Too many people are watching it now. It has to be after the match, and you're right, they'll never let a wizard who's supposed to be dead on the pitch, even if he used to be a friend of the Keeper."
"So― You're just going to send me to talk to Ron?"
"Something like that," Harry answered with a smirk.
"Why would you even go, then? Why not just wait here, let me talk to Ron and I'll convince him to stop off here after the match."
"Two reasons, I guess," Harry said, as he walked over to the fireplace and pulled the lid from the small cauldron he'd set there the previous night. "First, they might know something was up when he didn't show up at Hermione's flat right away." He stepped away from the cauldron and began rummaging in a cabinet. "More importantly, it's too dangerous for you to walk out onto that pitch. You heard Sophie, the Death Eaters are looking for you, and I'm sure they'll be at the match."
"Alright, so neither of us should be there," Ginny said with frustration. "I guess we can just write messages on parchment and toss them at him from the stands then?"
"I've got a better idea," Harry said. He nodded toward the cauldron and said, "Take a look at that and see if you can recognize it."
Ginny walked over to the cauldron and peered down into it. It was filled with a brown, bubbling substance with a consistency somewhere between a thick stew and mud. If the stomach turning appearance wasn't enough, the aroma was so distinctive that she was saying the answer before she'd even been able to turn away.
"Polyjuice Potion," she said with a sickened groan. "Who are you― OUCH!" There was a sharp tug in the back of her head, followed by a sharp stab of pain which faded quickly. She turned on Harry. "That hurt!" she shouted.
Harry was standing behind her holding two large flasks, and a single flame-colored strand of Ginny's hair. "What was that for?" she demanded as she rubbed her head and watched Harry ladle some of the potion into both of the flasks. The realization hit her a second later.
"No!" she said sharply. "Don't even think about it, Harry."
"It's the only way, Ginny," he replied. "You're the only one they'll let onto the pitch, and I'm the only one who can tell Ron what he needs to know."
"It wouldn't be the only way if you'd just trust me," Ginny snapped. However, it was too late. Harry had already dropped the hair into the flask, causing it to bubble fiercely. She shot a warning look at him, but he ignored it, and tipped the flask back as soon as the bubbling subsided.
"Harry―" she called as he doubled over, and collapsed onto the floor. She kneeled down in front of him and helped him back into a sitting position. "Harry, are you alright? Where did you get that? How do you know it's not poisoned?"
"It's not poisoned," he said between convulsions. "I paid far too much for it to be poisoned." He tried to laugh, but it was cut short by another series of spasms. He wrapped his arms around his stomach and curled forward.
Ginny backed away instinctively, thinking he was about to be sick. "What's happening, Harry?" she asked in a panicked voice.
His arms and legs began shaking, but he was able to look up at her. "Don't worry..." he said through clenched teeth, "this is― completely normal." Ginny slid back again as the pupils in his eyes contracted to a pair of small pinpoints.
Then, slowly, a soft chocolate brown spilled over the bright emerald green of his eyes. His face contracted, his nose got shorter and smaller, and clusters of freckles appeared across his cheeks and nose. Finally, his hair twisted and lengthened, turning from his dark black to a fiery red. With a gasp, he slumped forward and tried to catch his breath.
Ginny was having the same problem. She stood up unsteadily and forced herself to sit down in a nearby chair. Sitting on the floor in front of her was an exact copy of herself, blinking and staring back at her.
"Harry? You're alright?"
Harry pushed himself to his knees and then climbed onto one of the benches by the large kitchen table. "Yeah, I'm fine," he panted. "That's about how it always is. The first drink is always the worst."
"The first?"
"Yeah, I'll have to take a drink of that every forty minutes or so to be safe," he explained with her voice. "With luck, Holyhead will finish them off quickly. I don't think I've got much more than a few hours of it."
"And what am I supposed to do? Someone's going to get suspicious if they see two of me walking around."
"That's why there are two flasks. There's a vial over there with a hair I collected off a witch in Canada. She's about your size, blonde hair and without an annoying voice. You can't imagine how quickly that will drive you mad."
"How am I supposed to get onto the pitch, then?"
"You're not," Harry answered. "We're not even going to be sitting together. You can keep an eye on me. If things go bad ―and they might― I'll need all the help I can get. Oh, and speaking of help, there is something else I'll need before we go."
"What now? You want me to make you some breakfast?"
Harry frowned and slowly stood up. Now that she was over the shock of talking to her own duplicate, she realized what Harry was about to ask. Ginny knew she wasn't tall, and though Harry wasn't as tall as Ron, he wasn't short. The robes which had been expertly tailored to fit Harry now hung off Ginny's body like a set of old drapes, dragging on the floor and only partially obscuring a pair of shoes which were comically oversized for Ginny's feet.
"I need to borrow some clothes," Harry said.
"You know, I've never thought I'd hear you say that," she said flatly. "I can't say it's a memory I'll treasure."
"Well, technically you only heard yourself say it," Harry commented. It didn't make Ginny feel any better.
"Did you have anything specific in mind?" she asked as she walked to the cabinet.
"Something bright, I think," he said thoughtfully. "I don't want it to look like I'm hiding from anything."
"How about these?" she asked, holding up a set of dark maroon robes with gold trim.
Harry nodded and she tossed them to him. He carefully laid the robes on the table, pulled off the set of robes he had been wearing and started to unbutton his shirt.
"Hold on!" Ginny shouted. "You're just going to change right here?"
"Yeah," Harry replied with a confused look. "I mean, it's not like... well..."
"No, no," she said as she turned away. "Go somewhere else. I'd rather not have to watch myself change, Harry."
Harry shrugged, picked up the maroon robes, and made his way to the door that led to the small study. When he got to the door, he stopped and looked back at her. "You know," he began hesitantly, "I'm going to need a little more than just these robes. I mean, er... none of my clothes fit."
An icy chill shot down Ginny's spine. "No!" she shouted. "Reverse the potion, Harry. End it. You can't do this!"
"I have to, Ginny," Harry insisted. "You don't understand how serious this is."
"No, Harry. You don't get to see me naked!" she yelled. Harry froze and he stared at her with a hurt, confused expression. Ginny felt the heat building in her cheeks. "―I mean, not now― not like this, alright?" Feeling flustered, she she covered her face with her hands.
"There isn't a choice, Ginny," she heard her own voice say. "If I don't get to Ron today, it means that they'll get to him first. I don't know what will happen if they do. This is the only way I've found, and we're running out of time."
Ginny closed her eyes, and swallowed a frustrated scream. She strode back over to the cabinet, and reached into the bottom drawer, searching for two very particular items. After finding them, she threw them at Harry, then found a skirt and shirt to give him as well.
"The skirt will be more comfortable in the heat," she told him in a defeated tone. "I'll find some socks and shoes for you while you... you... change," she finally finished. As Harry opened the door, she took her last opportunity to speak with him.
"Keep your eyes up and be as quick as you can," she ordered him, "―and I swear I'll beat you with your own broom if I even think that you're looking in a mirror!"
"You'll never do that," he said as he walked through the door, "it's locked in a Gringott's vault. You'll have to use your broom."
Ginny pulled her wand and spun about, ready to hit him with eight different hexes, but he was gone and the door was already closing behind him. Ginny walked back over to the cabinet and picked out a pair of socks and some trainers that he'd be able to walk in. She tried to ignore the creepiness of picking out clothes for the man she was in love with. After a few minutes, her discomfort began turning to anger.
"Harry!" she shouted, "I told you to be quick!"
"You said to be as quick as I could," he shouted back. "Unless you want to come in here and help, you'd best shut up and let me do it."
"It doesn't take that long, Harry!"
"Maybe not for you, but it's not like I've been doing this every day!" he called back to her. "How in the world do you put this bloody thing on? You know, I'd think it would be even more upsetting if I wasn't having problems."
"I'll try and find a way to control my happiness," she replied sarcastically.
"Bloody hell!" she heard him shout a moment later. "This is impossible. What did you do, give me the most uncomfortable knickers you own?"
"Yes."
"What? Why did you do that?" he replied. "Why couldn't I have the purple ones?"
"Because I like the purple ones. I'm going to burn those when you're done with them."
"Oh, that's nice!" Harry responded in a hurt tone. "I think I liked you better when you were strapped to the table."
"I liked you better when you weren't wearing my knickers!" Ginny shouted bitterly.
A moment later, Harry walked through the door, looking quite a bit more like Ginny. "Trust me, I'm not really enjoying wearing them," Harry said. "If you think that this is my idea of fun, then you're bloody mental. However, I do know what you'll be getting for Christmas."
Ginny looked at him and slumped forward defeatedly. "Come over here. I'll fix your hair."
Ginny spent the next few minutes in odd discomfort, pulling his hair back into a loose pony tail, straightening his clothes, and other miscellaneous fixes. When she was finished, she stepped back and gave him a disgusted look.
"What is it?" he asked. "Do I look enough like you?"
Ginny let out a frustrated sigh. "You look better than I do."
"Oh," he said, pulling a face that Ginny had seen herself make before. "I suppose I better get going then."
"What about me?" she called out. "I haven't even taken the potion yet."
"I know," he said with a slight frown. "We can't be seen together, and this way, I know you won't follow me until we get to the match. You'll want to pick some different clothes, as well," he suggested. "Something that no one would recognize as yours, but nothing that won't let you blend into the crowd."
"You're leaving me again," Ginny said weakly. "What's going to happen after the match, Harry? Are you going to run off after Hermione? Then Lupin? Why are you avoiding me?"
"I haven't been avoiding you ―at least, not recently," he corrected. "There's just no time right now, Ginny. You don't know how delicately things are balanced right now. Everything is resting upon Ron and Hermione. If the Brotherhood gets to them, I― I can't let the Brotherhood get to them. If everything goes well today, we will have all night to sit and talk."
"Is that a promise?"
"No. I don't know what's going to happen. If I think there's a chance to talk to Hermione, I'm going to have to do it, but I don't think they'll let that happen. I'll probably have to wait until Tuesday." Harry pulled a watch out of his pocket, and looked at it. "You've only got about thirty minutes," he said. "I have to go. I'll be sitting five rows in front of you. After the match, keep an eye on me. If everything goes smoothly, leave as soon as I stop talking to Ron and meet me by the gate. I have a handkerchief in my pocket. If you see me drop it, I want you to count to thirty and then leave as quickly as you can."
Harry took a step closer to her, and Ginny was subjected to the bizarre experience of looking into her own eyes. "I promise I will come back, Ginny," he said seriously. "I'm not leaving you again. It was a mistake. I thought I was keeping you safe. I was wrong. I will come back."
Then without any warning, he stepped toward her. Ginny instinctively closed her eyes, and then let out a quiet squeal as she felt a pair of soft lips pressing against her own. Her eyes flew open and she saw her own face frightfully close by. For a few seconds she was frozen in shock, then as a pair of feminine hands reached for her shoulders, her arms reacted on reflex, pushing Harry away from her.
Harry looked shocked and confused. Ginny could only imagine that he was seeing the exact same expression ―on the very same face, no less. "What― I was―" he sputtered.
"Harry, that― I―" she said stumbling over her own words. "Frankly, I think there's one too many of me in the room right now. You should just go. I'll see you later."
"I'm sorry, I didn't―"
"No," Ginny said emphatically. "No, you didn't think. I... I wonder if there's any Firewhiskey in this place. I could really do without a memory right now."
"There are few bottles in the cellar behind the pumpkin wine," he said as he walked to the door. "If things go bad... I do love you." Ginny turned to look at him, but he was already gone. She heard the front door open, then close. Harry was gone again.
The match was just as uninteresting as she had told Harry it would be. Ron wasn't doing all that bad ―pretty good, considering the horrible show the Beaters were putting on― but the Cannons' Seeker was getting thoroughly abused.
The Harpies' Seeker was still flying around effortlessly, waiting a few minutes or so between feints. Her broom was faster and she was a better flier than the younger Seeker on the opposing team. He looked like he could barely hang onto his broom and there was absolutely no chance he'd be able to catch the Snitch even if it ran into his chest.
The annoyance was clear on Ron's face. The Cannons would lose yet another game and he'd be forced into another night of hiding. Harry had been right. His only chance to talk to Ron was going to be after the match. The only thing to wait for now was the inevitable end of the match.
Ginny had shown up just before the match started and found Harry (or rather, herself) sitting five rows ahead, just as Harry said she would. He never turned to look for her, and no one around her tried talking to her at all. Harry, on the other hand, was forced to chat with an old witch who was sitting next to him. Ginny hoped he wasn't saying anything that she'd regret later. She was also hoping that the conversation hadn't distracted him from the fact that a pair of dark haired wizards were standing near the stairs and keeping a close eye on him.
A shout went up from the crowd. When she'd been looking at the wizards, the Harpies' Seeker had finally spotted the Snitch and, in just a matter of seconds, had picked it from the air. She was now circling the pitch triumphantly. When Ginny looked to find Ron, he was already sailing down to the grass, looking disappointed but not terribly upset. As the rest of the crowd cheered, she caught a flash of red hair slipping between the rest of the spectators. Harry was leaving and the wizards were following him.
She couldn't follow him at first, and she had almost started panicking by time the next spectators made their way toward the stairs. Ginny followed them immediately, trying to look down the stairs for any sign of Harry. When she reached the ground, he was gone. She tried to control the pounding in her chest and forced herself to walk calmly toward the pitch. That's where Harry would be. It would be easy to spot him talking to Ron. If he made it that far...
Ginny's hopes were answered a minute later when she broke through the crowds and finally saw a short, red-haired witch walking toward Ron. A large security wizard stared at her suspiciously, but turned away when she made no move to sneak past him. Instead she stepped back a bit, and watched Ron from the shadow cast by one of the massive towers.
Harry had been surprised by how quickly the security wizards had waved him by. It must have been the red hair, he told himself. He didn't want to think that Ginny had become so well known that security wizards in Holyhead recognized her on sight.
The match had been completely boring. He'd been forced to talk with an old witch who kept pestering him about Ron. She'd noticed the similarity and guessed Ginny's relation to him. Their conversation was the only thing that kept the match interesting. Compared to her rambling about her cats and the cost of new robes, even the abysmal play of the Beaters became enthralling.
The only good thing about the situation had been the woman's glasses. As she turned to talk to him, he'd caught glimpses of the wizards behind him, including a small witch with curly blonde hair and a short button nose. The pair of wizards staring at him from the stairs were much easier to keep an eye on. However, there were no worries there. They were here to watch Ginny, not to find Harry Potter. When the match finished, he slipped past them confidently and made his way to the pitch as quickly as he could. It didn't look like Ron was going to stick around for autographs.
As he strode across the pitch, Ron spotted him and stopped unbuckling his guards. "At least it was short this time," he said with a weak smile. "I don't have to repair any of my guards. My broom's still in good shape. I think that's been our best loss this season."
"Don't forget the fact that your Beaters were so terrible that no one was even paying attention to you," Harry added.
"Right," Ron agreed. "Forgot about that one. So why are you out on the pitch? Is four weeks long enough to forget about what happened last time?"
"I barely remember it at all."
"That's not always a good sign, Ginny," he said with a frown. He bent his head down to work on one of his guards, and began whispering, "What's going on, Ginny? Hermione's been acting strange. She said something happened at the Ministry yesterday. Is that why you're here?"
"Yes."
"You're still being followed?"
"Yes. Two of them. Standing right at the exit."
"You're sure?" Ron asked. "They look more like guards."
"They are guards," Harry replied. "They're here to guard Ginny."
"To guard Ginny?" Ron replied. "What does that mean?"
"It means they are here to make certain that she's not put in danger when the other wizards come for you."
Ron froze, and dropped his guard to the ground. He stared at Harry for a moment, and then slowly waved an arm at another one of his fellow players. "Oi! Upham!"
A tall wizard with greying blond hair stopped and turned toward Ron. "Yeah, Weasley? What you want?"
"Tell Harcourt I'll be late. I've got to talk to a friend. Nothing serious."
The wizard paused and stared at Ginny with some amount of surprise. Then, as if deciding it was none of his business, he turned and walked away a little faster than he had been before Ron had called out to him.
"Do you want to go talk somewhere a little more private?" Ron asked stiffly.
"This is about as private as we're going to find," Harry said. "They're going to come for you. I don't know when, and I don't know where, but they're coming."
"Who's coming?"
"The Brotherhood of the Sacred Balance," Harry said clearly.
"Brotherhood? Wait, you mean the ones who tricked Charlie and then killed him?" Harry nodded, and Ron frowned. "Why are they coming for me?"
"Because you're Harry Potter's best friend."
"Harry's gone," Ron said. "He died a year ago."
"That's exactly what you need to say to them when they come," Harry said. "Don't tell them anything. Don't promise them anything. Don't make any bargains or agreements. They won't hurt you, not as long as you refuse to help them or tell them anything they want to know. Don't tell Hermione about any of it. Don't let them convince you she'll be safer if you do what they say. They're very convincing, but it's all a lie."
"Why should I believe you?"
"Because if you don't Hermione will be dead ―or worse."
"You're not Ginny," Ron said with certainty.
"No."
"Where is she?"
"She's safe, and if I told you where, she wouldn't be safe anymore."
"Who are you?"
"If I told you, you wouldn't believe me."
"We'll find out soon enough," Ron said with a nod toward the edge of the pitch.
Harry turned and saw a pair of wizards in dark robes walk out onto the grass and began looking around the pitch. Behind them stood Hermione, looking more than a little concerned. He watched as she pulled out her wand and stared at Ron.
"You distrusting git," Harry hissed.
"Yeah, I guess so," Ron said acidly. "Did you think I'd let you come out here impersonating my sister and threaten her and Hermione?"
"You shouldn't have gotten her involved," Harry said in frustration. "It was supposed to be simple. It'll be so much harder now." He reached into his pocket and fished out the handkerchief. He let it discretely fall to the ground and began counting in his head. "Hermione is in danger, Ron. I don't know just how much yet, but this certainly isn't going to help."
"You dropped something," Ron pointed out. "Is that some sort of signal?"
"Is that Harcourt standing behind those Ministry wizards?"
"All I have to do is pull my wand and they'll come for you," Ron said threateningly . "If you're really here for my safety, you'll tell me who you are."
Harry smiled and pulled a something from his pocket. He held out his hand, revealing a small object that looked like a glass spinning top. Ron stared at it for a while before reaching out to take it.
"A Sneakoscope? So, just because this says you're trustworthy, I should do what you say?" he asked. "It probably doesn't even work. There's a ruddy big crack through it."
"Sorry about that," Harry apologized. "There were a pair of wizards in Brazil who didn't appreciate what it had to say about them. It isn't broken. I reckon it could still tell if the twins were putting beetles in your soup."
Ron's eyes jerked down to Harry's and he gave Ron a smirking smile. "You can trust me," he said more seriously. "I'm not lying. Hermione is in danger. So are you, but it'll be a lot less if you don't help the Brotherhood. They can't keep Hermione safe. They don't want to keep her safe. Will you promise me that you won't help them?"
Ron was staring at the Sneakoscope, but he nodded his head. Harry nodded in acknowledgment. "Alright. I need to go now. Is there anything you can do about Hermione's friends? There are only so many wizards I can escape from in one day."
Ron frowned and started walking toward Hermione. "Come on, then. If you are who I think you are, the best way to fix that is to let you talk to her."
"No!" Harry shouted, "Not yet, and not in front of them. I can't trust them, and neither should you. I'll talk to Hermione, but it can't be now. Not with everyone watching."
"Well, I don't know what do do, then," Ron said, stopping suddenly. "She's not going to believe me if I say that everything is alright. I've already told her that one of us is in trouble."
"We are in trouble," Harry told him, "just not the type of trouble you might expect. Can you tell her there are Death Eaters here?"
"Are there?"
"I don't know," Harry replied. Ron frowned and turned toward Hermione. He touched his face as if taking off a mask and nodded toward the exit.
Ginny could tell by Ron's stiff posture that something wasn't right. A moment later she saw Hermione stride past her looking a little pale and trailing a pair of stern-looking wizards who weren't Aurors. When she saw them stepping out onto the pitch, she felt her chest tighten. It wasn't going well. Ron must have thought it was some sort of trap. Just then she saw something small and white drop to the grass. Harry's handkerchief.
Something bad was happening. She stood where she was and started counting.
Thirty. Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight...
Something was definitely wrong. Ron looked tense and ready to spring at Harry. The pair of wizards with Hermione were searching the pitch for something, maybe even her. What was she supposed to do? Should she run? What if Harry needed help?
Nineteen. Eighteen. Seventeen. Sixteen...
There was no time to make any sort of decision. She had to either run as Harry had told her or do something before it was too late. Why did he want her to go? Was he in danger? Why had he told her to wait around for thirty seconds? What could that solve?
Eight. Seven. Six. Five...
She watched as Harry pulled something from a pocket and handed it to Ron. Ron seemed suddenly unsure, but Harry was standing as confidently as ever. He's not afraid, she told herself, He's still in control. She took one last moment to look around her. If he wasn't in danger, it meant that he thought she was.
Two. One.
With her heart pounding, Ginny stepped forward and tried to appear casual as she stepped into the stream of wizards walking down the path. She slipped just behind the pair of Brotherhood wizards and followed the crowd as it descended a series of shallow sets of steps carved into the hill the pitch had been build upon. As the path curled around the hill, she lost sight of the top of the path and all signs of the pitch. If anything were happening, she'd never know. All she could do was trust Harry. It had worked before.
At the foot of the hill, the path straightened out and became a long paved walkway under a canopy of tall trees. At the end of the walkway was a heavy iron gate leading to the Disapparation area. She was nearly out. When she was halfway to the gate, a pair of wizards in dark robes passed her on either side. They stopped suddenly and turned to face her.
"Excuse us, Miss. May we have a word?" one of them said in deep voice. A strong hand clapped her on the shoulder and pushed her off the path, into the deeper shade by the trunks of the trees lining the path. She recognized one of them, a tall blond Death Eater she had fought briefly the night Dumbledore had died. The other was a stranger to her, but there was a similar evil glint in his eyes.
"You look familiar," the stranger said in a sneering tone. "Have we met before?"
Ginny's eyes narrowed and her hand dipped into her robes to clutch at her wand. "I'm sure we haven't. I'd remember someone as vile as the pair of you."
"We ask only because you seem to be quite interested in the Weasley girl," the blond wizard said. "It just so happens that we're very interested in her as well. We think she's got something we want very badly. Are you an acquaintance of hers?"
"No."
"A pity," he replied. "We will have to seek her ourselves then. Those worthless gate worshipers won't watch her forever, and she won't let you lock her in a hole for the rest of her life. We'll find her, or we'll find you."
Ginny's mind raced. They thought she was Harry. Why hadn't they just attacked her? The wards, her mind answered. Of course, all of the Quidditch pitches had them now. They'd stopped her there so she didn't Apparate away.
"What exactly do you want, and what are you willing to pay for it?" Ginny asked, feeling slightly bolder.
"We want what we've always wanted: the wand. In exchange for it, we will ask the Dark Lord to spare the lives of your friends when he returns to us."
"I don't have it," Ginny said confidently. "Check with the Brotherhood. Their leader took it."
"Oh, no," the stranger hissed, "we've had enough of that. The Brotherhood will be repayed for its treachery when the Dark Lord is resurrected. We don't care who has it now. If their warlock truly is holding it, then bring us the wand with his arm and we will see that the red-haired girl is treated well by the Dark Lord."
Ginny tried to control her revulsion at the thought. "That's all? You just want some old wand?"
The stranger smiled. "An old wand, yes. That is all that we ask of you. There is something more we need of her. The warlock has said she has something we need. If she hands it over to us, we will spare her life. Now do we have a deal, or shall we just wait around here for your little potion to wear off?"
Before Ginny could answer she heard a commotion coming from the walkway. A number of wizards were shouting and running toward her.
"There! Death Eaters!" she heard a woman shout. Her head turned toward the voice and she saw Hermione standing on the edge of the walkway, directing four large wizards toward Ginny.
The stranger grabbed Ginny's robes and pulled her close to his face. "Tell that Mudblood Granger that she better nose out of wizards' business or we'll take care of her sooner rather than later," he growled. Then, with a grunt, he lifted her up and tossed her backward. She stumbled a little, then fell to the ground. The Death Eaters bolted for the gate, and the Ministry wizards followed them.
As Ginny wheezed and tried to catch her breath, Hermione ran up to where she laid. "Are you alright?" she asked, as she looked over her shoulder.
"Yeah," Ginny said between coughs, "I'm fine, Hermione."
Hermione's wand arm twitched. "How do you know my name?" she asked, stepping away from Ginny.
Ginny crawled back to her feet and tried to think of some good reason. Haltingly, she tried to explain, "Well, you, er... you're one of Potter's friends aren't you? I read the Prophet and―"
"And you call everyone you read about by their first names?"
Before Ginny could answer, Hermione was distracted by something even more odd than a stranger who knew her name. A murmur was traveling through the crowd of spectators, and as it reached Ginny and Hermione, they saw the crowd parting to make room for a red-haired witch who was running down the pathway as fast as she could. Ginny barely recognized herself. Her cheeks were flushed and she was gasping for breath.
"Ginny!" Hermione shouted. She turned away and started looking for whatever danger Harry was running from, and found the pair of Brotherhood wizards running after her. They were catching up.
Ginny leaped after them, and heard Hermione close on her heels. She found herself quickly catching the three of them. She'd only started running, they must have been running the entire way from the pitch. The gate was looming closer and closer, but Harry wasn't going to make it before the pair of wizards caught him. Unable to think of anything better to do, she pressed herself forward as hard as she could and dove in front of one of the two wizards.
Their legs tangled and he stumbled, flailing his arms and sending them both crashing to the paved ground. As he struck the stone, the first wizard tripped the second, sending him into the rocky ground between the path and the trees. Ginny quickly untwisted herself from the first wizard and climbed to her feet.
Ahead of her, she saw herself stumble as Harry reached the soft turf on the other side of the gate. He hit the ground hard, tumbled once, and then simply disappeared. Ginny felt her stomach leap.
Suddenly, a hand clamped down on her ankle. She looked down and found the Brotherhood wizard she'd tripped snarling at her as he held her in a vicious grip. Panic surged through her and her leg swung on its own, smashing into his face with a sickening thud. He let go instantly, and Ginny was suddenly free, only seconds from the gate.
She ignored the pain in her foot, as well as the bruises and scrapes all along her legs and sides, and ran the last short distance to freedom. As she passed the gate, she veered dangerously to the left, concentrated on her destination, and Disapparated.
The moment she appeared in the alley, she felt someone grab her and wrap her in a surprising strong grip, on arm pinning hers to her sides and another pressed tightly against her mouth. She struggled instinctively, unsure of what was happening until she heard a familiar voice, her own voice.
"Stop, stop, I'm sorry! I had to be sure."
Ginny stopped struggling and she was quickly released. She turned and found a rather beat up version of herself panting and staring back at her.
"You know," Harry said between gasps, "you really need to get more exercise."
Ginny closed her eyes and collapsed into him, no longer caring what he looked like. They were safe. Whatever had happened at the pitch, it hadn't gone as badly as Harry said it could. They both caught their breath and made their way across the street to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.
Ginny sat comfortably in the large chair in the study, sipping on tea and nursing an array of cuts, scrapes and bruises on her legs. It felt nice to be back to her normal self. She only wished that all of her injuries had disappeared with her disguise.
Harry was in the kitchen trying to change back into suitable clothes. He would be changing back into himself in only a few more minutes. Ginny had banished him to the kitchen after she had applied some bandages to three deep cuts he'd gotten after tumbling across the ground.
Ginny heard her own voice echoing through the door to the kitchen, "I don't suppose I could get some help in here?"
"No," she replied coldly. "I've had quite enough of your little jokes for today. You're just going to have to work it out for yourself."
"It's either that or a knife," Harry threatened.
"The knife, then," Ginny shouted back, trying to hide her laughter. "You were right though. I feel much better knowing just how clueless you are about this."
"Thank you," he replied, though he was less successful at hiding his disgust than she had been hiding her amusement. Ginny fetched a book from the shelves behind her and started reading. It really wasn't terribly interesting, but it was less mentally troubling than the thought of Harry changing clothes.
Eventually, Harry limped back into the study looking just as worn out as Ginny, but without her hair, face, or body. He collapsed onto the chair next to her and stared at the empty fireplace in front of them.
"I think Ron believed me," he announced. "At the very least, he convinced those Ministry wizards that I was you. I don't know what Hermione thinks. She must have known something odd was happening."
"I think that's a reasonable assumption," Ginny added.
"Did you learn anything from her? You know, during that time when you were completely ignoring what I'd told you to do and waiting for me to show up?"
"I hadn't ignored you," Ginny replied with as much annoyance as she could gather. "I was having a pleasant chat with a pair of Death Eaters, until Hermione and her friends scared them away."
"Death Eaters?" Harry said, sounding immediately alert. "What did they tell you?"
"They said they want the wand. They thought I was you, so I told them I didn't have it and that they should go bother the Brotherhood. They didn't much care for that answer."
"No, I wouldn't expect they would," Harry commented.
"They said you should get it and give it to them or they'll kill us all. Of course, if you do bring them the wand, they'll only ask Voldemort to save us, so we shouldn't get our hopes up."
Harry didn't respond, and kept staring at the fireplace. "They also said they wanted that ring talisman," she added.
Harry's eyes narrowed in confusion. "They wanted the ring? That doesn't make any sense. Why would they want that?"
"I don't know, Harry. Why would they want the wand? They think that they can resurrect Voldemort with it, but they can't, can they? You can't bring someone back from death. Lupin was positive."
Harry stared down at his arm and traced the faint scar which ran from his wrist to his elbow. "If it wasn't possible, there wouldn't be a spell to do it, would there? They found something. Who knows what's possible? Nothing like Voldemort ever existed in the world. Maybe the spell could work, but they'll never succeed. They need something that contained his soul, but all of the horcruxes are destroyed and there was nothing left of his body. Who knows if any of them would have worked at all? His soul was shattered."
"Why are they looking for the wand then?
"They never had a chance at getting what they needed. It was just a trick the Brotherhood pulled on them. They probably found the spell for them as well. The Brotherhood needed someone to blame all the attacks on, so they convinced the Death Eaters it was possible. The wand doesn't matter. It won't help them."
"Then we should get it, Harry," Ginny said excitedly. "If we did give it to the Death Eaters, they might realize that they've been tricked. I'm not saying they'd be our allies, but it would hurt the Brotherhood. They wouldn't be able to hide behind them, and they'd have another enemy to worry about."
"It's not that easy, Ginny," Harry said with a frown. "There are things you don't understand―"
"Yes, Harry, because you won't tell me!" she said angrily. "Why won't you fight this? There is a new Dark Lord out there. He killed Charlie and he's already tried to kill me. How much will it take before you finally end this pointless maneuvering?"
"A little more, I'm afraid," Harry answered. "I'm not in control of this, Ginny. I lost control of it a month ago. All I can do now is try and make sure we all live through the first attack. If I could face him, it could all be over."
"You're certain you could defeat him?"
There was a moment of heavy silence before Harry responded. "No," he finally answered, "not if I have to fight him, and the Brotherhood, and the Ministry and every other wizard he's corrupted. If it were just him and I... yes. Yes, I'm certain I would defeat him. That is the reason why he's hiding and sending the Death Eaters after me. He's afraid of me. He's certain he'd lose."
Harry leaned forward and rubbed his eyes. "But there's no more point in talking about this," he said. "I've talked to Ron. I think he'll do what I told him to do. There's nothing I can do about Hermione ―not until Tuesday. We'll stay here tomorrow, and you'll only have to avoid her for two more days. Then it will be over and we can start telling the Order."
He stood up slowly, and limped over to a cushioned couch. He sat down at one end and gave Ginny a questioning smile. "I've been gone for a long time. All I've thought about is the Brotherhood and Dark Wizards and keeping my friends safe. I want to talk about something else, something happy or funny, or even completely boring. I don't care, just as long as you say it."
Ginny smiled back, and walked over to sit next to him. She leaned her head against his chest, put her hand in his and began talking about anything that entered her mind. She told him about her last year at Hogwarts and all of the things she'd done and all the stories of Harry's friends. They talked well into the night, stopping only to make a brief dinner before returning to the study. As darkness came, they lit the fire and slowly drifted off to sleep together.
