Year Four, Part Ten
Everything changed after the Dark Lord's return became known to the world.
It wasn't exactly like Ginny had imagined it would be. She'd thought they'd be attacking the Ministry or the Order and their Allies every day. She'd imagined it would be basically one non-stop fight.
It wasn't. In fact, they'd barely done anything.
Not to say that there had been no strikes at all.
On the contrary, there'd been the hordes of Dementors unleashed on mostly Muggle areas, giants released near a major Muggle bridge, and the half-dozen or so targeted killings, attacks, and kidnappings.
Ginny and Bellatrix had taken part in three of those; the kidnapping of Garrick Ollivander, the murder of a Muggle family, and the murder of Dedalus Diggle and his wife.
Frankly, they'd all been underwhelming and boring. The Muggles had been asleep when she and Bellatrix arrived, just like Diggle and his wife, and since they'd been trying to keep it all as quiet as possible, Bellatrix hadn't even brought up the idea of torturing them.
Meanwhile, Ollivander hadn't even put up a fight, instead just coming with them quietly and clearly trying not to anger them.
It was almost enough to make Ginny wish for another battle.
She hadn't forgotten the bone-deep fear she'd experienced in Knockturn, nor the feeling of being totally overwhelmed by chaos, but life had just become so boring.
Oh, Bellatrix kept her busy enough; since the Dark Lord's return, they'd spent most, if not all of, every day duelling, with Bellatrix pushing her harder than she ever had been before.
She'd certainly improved massively. She wasn't quite able to beat Bellatrix yet, and honestly thought that it would be a while before she'd be able to, but their bouts were lasting far longer than they had at first, and weren't nearly as one-sided as they had been.
Still, it wasn't the real thing. As much as the practice was leading to improvement, she knew that she'd only really grow by being in the situation; she'd only learn to deal with the chaos of a multi-person fight by being in enough of them to get a handle on it.
Of course, practising duelling wasn't all they were doing.
Bellatrix had taken it upon herself to reach Ginny the Dark Arts. It was slow going, with Bellatrix often getting annoyed at Ginny's inability to grasp something that was, apparently, very easy, but they were progressing.
It would have been faster if they had people for Bellatrix to demonstrate on. Most of the Dark Arts, as Bellatrix explained, was concerned with how the human body functioned and how to change it. Rituals and agonizing spells were a large part of it.
Unfortunately, they had no captives who could be used for it. After the debacle in Knockturn, the Dark Lord had executed Lupin himself and had been strangely reluctant to allow them to kidnap more.
It was downright odd, how he had been acting since the failed attempt to kidnap Potter. Ginny was sure that he had a reason for it all, but had he been anyone else, she would have thought he was afraid of something.
It seemed almost like he wanted those most loyal to him around him at all times. He'd sent them on missions here and there, but had expressly forbidden them to go off on their own endeavours, and had repeatedly refused Bellatrix's request to allow her to go grab a few Muggles as teaching aids.
It was very strange, and according to Bellatrix, completely unlike him.
None of them spoke about it, not for more than a few minutes at a time.
None of them even liked thinking about it much.
But Ginny knew that everyone else was thinking the same as she was; Potter's survival of the Killing Curse had been entirely unexpected, and it changed everything.
For almost two months after the attempted kidnapping, Ginny felt like she, and everyone else there, was walking on eggshells.
The atmosphere in the Death Eater headquarters was beyond uncomfortable, and even though they were having successes, it still felt like they weren't getting anywhere.
The Dark Lord didn't do much to improve morale either. He barely spoke to anyone, spending his time locked away in his study with ancient, dusty tomes in dead languages, thinking of things none of the others could begin to comprehend and hissing to his snake.
The only times he spoke was to give orders, and even then he was as concise as possible.
Until the night he summoned all the Death Eaters to his study.
"Any idea what this is all about?"
Ginny shrugged, glancing at Bellatrix and squeezing her hand for an instant.
Bellatrix didn't even look around, instead just continuing to stare up at the Dark Lord with a pensive expression, chewing softly on her lip.
"I don't know," she said, turning around to face Dolohov. "We haven't heard anything. What do you think?"
"Plans, maybe," he said, looking at the shuffling crowd behind him. "He used to gather us all like this every so often. When he wanted to inspire us. Hopefully something like that."
The Dark Lord sat with his chin on his arm, his large snake curled up at his feet as the room slowly filled up.
Eventually, the last stragglers arrived, and the door closed behind them with a soft thud.
The Dark Lord continued to sit, the flickering light from the floating candles casting strange shadows on his face.
Suddenly, he stood, everyone instinctively taking a few steps back.
"Brothers and sisters," he said, his voice ringing through the room like the tolling of a bell. "Dear friends, loyal companions. The time has come to cast off the shackles the Ministry of Magic has tried to place upon us. The time has come for us to show them true power. The time has come for us to fight in truth!"
He raised his arms high, flames shooting up behind him from no apparent source.
"For nearly two months they have known of my return," he continued, everyone hushing as they strained to hear his near-whisper. "And yet, we have barely damaged them. We have barely struck at them. I have heard your whispers, heard you all wondering why we have not been doing more."
Silence fell, thick enough to drown in.
"And now that I have been back for two months and they have suffered so few losses, they think us weak. They think us defanged. And so they have let their guards down. And when we begin our attack, it will be doubly devastating to those weak cowards who dare stand against us!"
Ginny found herself cheering along with everyone, a bloodthirsty cry torn from her throat.
"Within one year," the Dark Lord promised, silencing their whoops with a wave of his hand. "Dumbledore will be dead. And after that, the Ministry will fall. And then...then, my friends, Britain will be ours!"
"You know what this means?" Bellatrix hissed, pulling Ginny tightly to her.
"That we're not going to be hiding here all the time?"
Chuckling, Bellatrix gave Ginny a quick kiss and then pulled away, her eyes aflame.
"It means he's removing those ridiculous restrictions," she whispered, "and it means I'll be able to get us someone to play with."
"So he made seven of them?" Harry asked, feeling surprisingly calm.
Beside him, Hermione made a soft noise of disgust, and Ron grunted.
"Indeed. I believe that he did not mean to make seven horcruxes, but rather to keep the seventh shard within his body. As we know, that plan of his failed."
Despite himself, Harry laughed.
It was strange, how even though the task before them was more daunting than he'd have imagined possible, even though he knew there was a prophecy about him and that Voldemort would stop at nothing to capture or kill him, and even though new editions of the Daily Prophet seemed to herald nothing but fresh doom and gloom; even so, Harry felt far better than he had two months previously.
Probably the biggest part of his good feelings was the change in Dumbledore's relationship to him.
Since the day when he'd survived the Killing Curse, Dumbledore had been speaking to him again. More than that, he'd been regularly meeting with him, Ron, and Hermione.
So far, they'd been meeting once or twice a week, with Dumbledore usually showing them a memory in the pensive before giving them some spell to learn.
Harry was quite sure that if not for Dumbledore's earlier explanation about how Voldemort had achieved immortality, he would have been spending all the time in the Pensive scratching his head.
But Dumbledore had explained everything. In fact, as far as Harry could tell, the headmaster had been nothing but open and honest with him.
It was bizarre, how much of a change in Harry's mood that brought. Even if the wizarding world hadn't accepted that Voldemort was back and that Harry wasn't a crazy liar, even if Sirius hadn't been cleared and declared an innocent man; even so, Harry thought he would have still felt almost as good as he currently did, as long as Dumbledore continued to treat him like a person.
Of course, it wasn't all sunshine and roses. Harry had gone to Charlie Weasley's funeral, and once his body was discovered in a field a week later, to Lupin's as well.
Those deaths bit at him, their faces swimming in front of his eyes when he tried to sleep, the thought of them twisting his stomach and filling his belly with acid.
But unlike when Percy and Hermione's parents had been killed, Charlie and Lupin's deaths did not destroy him. They hurt, but he felt able to carry on.
Somehow, Ron and Hermione seemed to feel the same. Ron seemed more natural than Hermione, which made sense frankly, but it seemed sometimes like he was barely present.
Hermione, meanwhile, had been more withdrawn than ever, spending pretty much all of her time with her nose in a book. Usually, when Harry snuck a glance, he caught glimpses of gruesome, bloody illustrations.
Oh, they were all suffering from the events of the last six months. But, as far as Harry was concerned, they were doing as well as they possibly could.
"So," Ron asked, raising his hand and beginning to count on his fingers. "That ring he stole from his uncle, the locket and cup he stole from that old witch-"
"Hephzibah Smith." Hermione interjected.
"Yeah, her. The diary. His snake, you think. And-and Harry. We're still short one."
"A precise summary, Mr Weasley," Dumbledore said with a bow of his head. "Although, as I have mentioned, making Harry into a horcrux was a mistake. Nevertheless, you are correct. We are short one. However, we must remember Voldemort's obsession with the Founders. I believe that he would have liked to complete the set, as it were."
"You said the sword's the only thing left from Gryffindor," Harry said, nodding at the display case next to the wall of portraits. "So it's got to be something from Ravenclaw."
"There's nothing left from Rowena Ravenclaw," Hermione said, "Not since her diadem disappeared."
"Miss Granger is correct. However...well, this is a thread that requires further investigation. As it stands, we know of the identity of four of his horcruxes. As for their locations, I believe I may have a lead on one of them, and ideas for the others. His snake, unfortunately, is usually with him."
"Will you take us with?" Harry asked, trying to hide his eagerness. "When you find one?"
One of the portraits, Harry thought it was Phineas Nigellus, muttered about impertinence.
Pursing his lips, Dumbledore leaned back, a faraway look in his eyes.
"I would like to," he said after a bit. "But it would depend on many, many things. Taking too large a crowd could attract unwanted attention. If it is feasible and I believe it will not harm the mission, then yes, I will take you all. It would certainly do you well to see what we are up against."
Silence descended on them, Harry shivering as he wondered what exactly Voldemort would have set to protect the shard of his soul.
"Professor?" Hermione asked a bit timidly a few minutes later. "Not that I'm ungrateful or anything. But sometimes it sounds almost like you're...preparing a successor. Do you-I mean, why do we need to be doing this?"
Chuckling, Dumbledore leaned down, pulling something out of his desk and throwing it into his mouth.
"Jelly bean, anyone?"
Harry took one, and after a moment, Ron did too.
"I have no idea what will happen in the future," Dumbledore said, looking at Hermione. "No-one does. But I do know that while he lives, Voldemort will not rest until Harry is captured or dead. Fair or not, you, Harry, have no choice about fighting this fight. Not unless you wish to just give up and die."
Shivering again, Harry shook his head.
"I do not know what will happen, Miss Granger. And so I must prepare for as many possible eventualities as I can. It is certainly possible that I will not survive to see Voldemort fall. If I have not prepared someone who can take over if that occurs, then I have been remiss in my duty. This is why Alastor knows as well. And this is why, if I do fall, you will confide in Sirius."
"Isn't it a risk? Ron asked. When everyone looked at him, he continued, his ears reddening slightly.
"I mean, if any of us would get captured, he'd know everything!"
His face suddenly grave, the laughter vanishing from his eyes, Dumbledore nodded.
"It is a risk. We are doing what we can to minimize that risk- teaching you three Occlumency, only telling as few as we can- but we cannot remove that risk entirely. But taking that risk, Mr Weasley, terrible as it may be, is far better than doing nothing."
"Sir?"
"Yes, Harry?"
"You said that-that the diary affected Ginny so badly because it was a horcrux…"
"And you wish to know why the soul piece that had embedded itself into you did not affect you as badly?"
"Yeah," Harry said softly.
"Firstly, you must understand that this is an area of magic, which has, to the best of my knowledge, never been truly experimented with. You and Voldemort have journeyed across boundaries previously thought to exist. As such, I cannot make a definitive statement. I do, however, think that it was your mother's protection. Her love for you, I believe, ensured that Voldemort's soul could not truly touch your own. Though your body contained them both, Voldemort's soul was an intruder, if you will, and as such was never truly a part of you. Her love, Harry, protected you from Voldemort's ability to manipulate you."
Dumbledore fell silent for a bit, allowing Harry the chance to look down and rub at his damp eyes.
Ever since he'd seen his parents in that strange place between life and death, hearing about them, or even thinking about them, brought tears to his eyes. It was as if, having seen them, having met and spoken to them, having been told that they were proud of him and loved him; it was as if, for the first time in his life, he thought of them as real people, more than just the idea of parents.
"Have you given a thought, Harry, to whether or not you will continue living with the Dursleys?"
Harry nodded, steeling himself.
For some reason, he felt certain that Dumbledore would try to discourage his decision.
"Yeah. I want to live with Sirius."
"As I thought you would," Dumbledore replied, sounding slightly saddened. "And I cannot fault your decision. Very well. Over the summer, Alastor and I will be regularly meeting with you all. In the meantime, I would like you to continue practising your spellwork and Occlumency, and of course, to study for your upcoming exams. If all goes well, I should have the location of one of the Horcruxes within a week. I will inform you then whether or not you will be joining us. Enjoy the rest of the day."
The Muggle's jaw stretched wide in a silent scream, the tendons on his neck standing out as his whole body went taut.
With a laugh, Bellatrix pressed her wand against his naked thigh again, the smell of burning flesh immediately filling the air.
"Look at it!" She chortled, as the Muggle went mad, trying in vain to flail and free himself.
"Don't you think it's funny? It keeps trying to get away, but it just can't. It probably doesn't even know why we can't hear it. Stupid animal."
Laughing, Ginny walked over to the small table beside the wall and took a drink of water.
They were in one of the basements, a stone-walled room with only a small globe of light illuminating it.
The Muggle, a boy in his mid-to-late teens who Bellatrix had found, was strapped to the wall with thick iron chains on his arms and legs, holding him tight enough that the stone cut into his back.
He was naked, the burned spot where his penis had been looking strange against his pale skin.
Removing it had been the first thing Bellatrix had done, once they'd stripped him and tied him up. She'd said the sight of it offended her.
That had been hours previously, well before his stupid screams had given them a headache and forced Bellatrix to silence him.
They'd been careful throughout, to heal every cut and burn they gave him immediately after inflicting them. Bellatrix wanted to teach Ginny something, and apparently, it was better to use an uninjured subject.
"Ok," Bellatrix said. "Enough play. Come closer."
Putting down the glass, Ginny walked over to her.
"First, we put it under a Body-Bind, like so. Then we do this. I'll teach you this spell later," Bellatrix promised, waving her wand.
Ginny gasped, her eyes widening.
The Muggles chest turned completely transparent, his skin and flesh looking like it had been replaced with a pane of glass.
She could see everything inside his body, blood rushing along in veins and arteries, the heart pumping and the lungs slowly expanding and then shrinking.
The ribcage blocked part of her vision, but it was still more than enough to see.
"That's incredible!"
"Isn't it? But that's not the main point. Remember what I was telling you about the Organ Piercer?"
"You said that it's misnamed and that it isn't related to any stabbing or cutting curses."
"Good girl," Bellatrix said, sending a thrill through Ginny. "But I didn't tell you what it is related to, did I?"
"No. You said you'd rather demonstrate."
"Well, this is very important. We'll talk more about it later, but for now...watch."
Bellatrix pressed her wand forward, until the tip was barely an inch away from the Muggle's chest.
"You'd be able to see no matter what organ it hits," she said, "but it's so much better when it's the heart."
With that, she spoke the incantation for the Organ Piercing curse, giving the strange flick of her wrist the spell required.
The Muggles heart exploded, a torrent of blood shooting out into his chest cavity, strips of flesh flying out and smashing into the transparent wall of his chest.
He convulsed, dark blood flooding out of his mouth, a soft urk noise escaping his dying mouth.
Chuckling, Bellatrix turned to Ginny.
"So? What is it?"
"It's like an Explosive Hex," she said, her eyes widening. "But that doesn't make any sense! Why does it only affect organs? And it doesn't sound like any of the other explosive spells, and the wand movements-"
"Exactly! But now we have a place to start, don't we?"
Confused, Ginny frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"You wanted to know why some spells only affect people, didn't you? Well, this is where we start."
Bellatrix waved her wand, making a wave of flame arise and engulf the Muggle's body with a smell like a barbecue.
"We'll need more of them to use, but we're doing well. Come on, let's go have a duel. Maybe now you'll actually pose a challenge."
"You're still avoiding Scrimgeour, aren't you?"
Albus nodded absently, adding the finishing touches to his letter.
"Do you think I am wrong to do so?"
Alastor seemed to think about it for a few seconds before answering, clocking his head to one side and scratching at his mangled nose.
"Honestly, I think you're right. Yeah, he got rid of most of Lucius' moles, but we know Lucius wasn't the only one."
"Indeed. It would be nice to have the Ministry's support. Unfortunately, it is not to be."
"We're not doing too badly though," Alastor said in a rare moment of optimism. "We've got, what, six of them arrested and two dead? It's not such bad going for this stage."
"Particularly since Lucius and Pettigrew are two of the six," Albus remarked, signing the letter and waving his wand to make the ink dry. "If only Severus had managed to discern the identity of Voldemort's other tool in the Ministry. Why, if that were the case, I might even take Rufus into my confidence."
Alastor grunted sinking back into his chair with the dour look returning to his face.
"Taking Lucius down took away a lot of their influence in the Ministry," he said grimly. "But none of that matters if we can't deal with You-Know-Who. I hope you're right about this shack, Albus. Otherwise, we're left in the same, shitty position."
Albus sighed, folding the letter and handing it over to Fawkes' outstretched talon.
"I hope so too, old friend," he murmured. "I hope so too."
The knife ran down her thigh, splitting the skin and slicing deeply into the supple flesh below.
Ginny arched her back with a scream, agony and ecstasy swirling through her in a mind-melting mix.
"You want me to stop, don't you?"
Ginny trapped the next scream between her teeth, nodding her head frantically.
"Tell me, baby. Beg me to stop."
"Please," Ginny managed, forcing herself through the overwhelming sensations flooding her mind. "P-please, Bella, please, stop-"
In answer, Bellatrix jammed her thumb down into the cut, even as she placed her mouth on Ginny.
Her fingers didn't stop working at Ginny's clit, twisting and prodding it.
She was screaming again, shrieking with buckling hips as she rode the waves of pleasure and torment, cresting the hill of an orgasm only to continue rising, her brain turned to mush by the wonder of it all.
With infinite slowness, the pain receded, the orgasm dying along with it. Dimly, Ginny became aware of Bellatrix's wand tip stroking her torn skin.
A hot, pleasant warmth erupted up her leg, the thick cut knitting itself back together as her breathing and heartbeat returned to normal.
Bellatrix rose, her face hovering a few inches away from where Ginny's head rested on the pillow.
It was an intoxicating sight, every line of her face alive in a way that was just exactly her. Noticing the wetness of her juices on Bellatrix's chin, Ginny felt the stirrings of fresh excitement within her.
"Do you remember," Bellatrix whispered in a voice like honeyed silk, "when Greyback asked you who you belong to? Do you remember what you said?"
"I-I said that I don't belong to anyone."
Bellatrix's mad grin slipped for an instant, a flash of what seemed almost like fury replacing it for the blink of an eye.
"You did. But that's not entirely true, is it?"
Her fingers danced over Ginny's skin, tapping the Mark on her arm before making their way down her body to slide between her legs again.
"Who do you belong to?"
"To-to the Dark Lord. And to you."
"That's true. Very true."
Bellatrix waved her wand, and two objects flew out of the chest of drawers.
One was the large rubber dildo she'd made Narcissa pick up for her. They hadn't used it yet, but she'd taken great pleasure in showing it to Ginny earlier that day.
The other was a knife, one that Ginny thought she recognized.
"That's the one you used on Lupin," Ginny asked, somehow managing to keep her voice stable even though her heart was starting to pound. "Isn't it?"
"Don't worry, I cleaned his filthy blood off of it."
"Didn't-didn't you say that it's c-cursed?"
Her voice suddenly went high, a moan tearing out of her throat as Bellatrix's fingers entered her.
"It is. The cuts can be healed easily enough. But the scars never will. They'll be there forever. No matter what anyone does, they'll always be there."
She leaned forward suddenly, seizing Ginny's lips in a tight kiss.
"If the Dark Lord got to mark you," she whispered, her breath hot on Ginny's face, "I think it's only fair that I do as well. I think I'll put my name on you. What do you think?"
"I-I-"
Merlin, but it was hard to think, with Bellatrix's body so close to hers, with the pleasure beginning to surface again, a smouldering flame just starting to catch.
"You want it, don't you?"
"I-I do."
"Ask me nicely. Beg me, love."
She could see it, the wanton, hungry desire alight in Bellatrix's eyes.
The soft bliss between her legs began to spread, burning through her mind and erasing all thought.
At that moment, she could think of nothing she wanted more than seeing that joyous expression on Bellatrix's face.
"Please-please Bella, please. Do it, please. Cut me, put your name on me. Mark me, please!"
"Not very verbose," Bellatrix said, still grinning, "But it'll do."
Her fingers left Ginny abruptly. She groaned, inches away from coming.
Bellatrix moved away from her. Before she had the chance to push herself up and see what was happening, something tightened around her legs and arms, pulling her to the bed.
"Bella, wh-"
"This knife," Bellatrix said, stepping back into Ginny's field of vision and holding the silver blade up with one hand, "will be far more exquisitely painful than any other you've ever felt. Prepare yourself."
Bellatrix moved as she spoke, slowly and gently pushing the dildo into Ginny.
Before it had even come to rest, it began to shake, vibrating and moving back and forth, somehow making Ginny feel as if her clit was being squeezed and rubbed at the same time.
Moaning, she arched her back, the restraints keeping her from rising more than a few inches out of the bed.
"Good, that's good," Bellatrix said, leaning over and kissing Ginny before moving down.
Her hands gripped Ginny's thigh, just below the hip.
"Be steady," she said.
And then she cut.
For an instant, all Ginny could feel, besides the beginnings of a fresh orgasm, was cold, like a block of ice had been applied to her skin.
Then the pain struck.
She started to scream again, her leg trying to buckle but being held in place by the restraints and Bellatrix's hands.
It was worse, far worse than anything she'd ever done to herself. The pain was terrible, as if Bellatrix had somehow cast a Cruciatus on her leg alone.
And through it all the dildo continued to work, providing a thrilling, heavenly accompaniment to her agony.
She was sobbing, crying out Bellatrix's name and half-formed, slurred pleas, her whole body shaking as the sensations flooded her.
And then the pain faded, just for an instant, and the pleasure emanating from her crotch overtook her.
With tears still streaming down her face, she came, a sudden image of Bellatrix's smiling face popping into her mind.
And then Bellatrix started to cut again, the knife slicing through her skin like butter, blood running in rivulets down her leg to pool on the bed.
The dildo didn't stop.
It was all too much, too much sensation to allow for thought. Her mind seemed to shut down, nothing existing but the waves that tossed through her like she was a pile of leaves.
It was something beyond words, a symphony of torment and ecstasy that belied description.
Time stopped, only sensation continuing.
She was screaming, begging Bellatrix to stop, making unintelligible blubbering noises as she pleaded with everything she could muster for it to stop, for it to go on, for the contradictory feeling to just end before she went utterly and irreversibly mad.
Shaking, she wailed, another orgasm tearing her apart.
It seemed to never end, the glorious, horrendous wonder that overtook everything.
Dimly, she realized that Bellatrix had moved far, that the fresh pain was now coming from the area around her knee.
It didn't matter. Nothing mattered, nothing even existed but the utter bliss and agony ripping her mind to shreds.
She could hear her own voice as if someone was playing a record in another room. It sounded hoarse, the words that broke through the tears disconnected and rambling.
The pain reached a crescendo, and she felt Bellatrix licking along the cuts.
And then, without warning, it all vanished.
For a short eternity, she lay there, panting and sobbing, feeling completely and utterly spent.
Her face felt puffy, her eyes swollen and snot caked along her nose.
Slowly, ever so slowly, she caught her breath, her heart beginning to calm.
The restraints had disappeared at some point. Her leg still felt tender, but none of the agony that had so consumed her remained.
"You did so well," Bellatrix said, giving her a look that filled Ginny with relaxed contentment. "So, so well. Look, love."
Somehow, Ginny found the strength to push herself up onto her elbows.
Gazing down, she saw it.
Carved into flesh, starting from just below her pelvis and ending just below her knee, in large, blocky letters, was the name: Bellatrix Lestrange.
Bellatrix dropped into the bed just beside Ginny. Throwing her arms around her, she pulled Ginny close and kissed her gently on the forehead, rocking softly against her.
"You did so well," she repeated, kissing her again. "I love you so much. I love you. Mummy loves you, dear."
The golden ring sat heavily on Dumbledore's desk, dragging Harry's eyes to it as if through magnetic attraction.
It was still eminently recognizable as the one Voldemort had worn in Slughorn's memory, even if the large black stone had fallen out of it.
"I would have liked for you to accompany us," Dumbledore said, with a nod to Moody, "but, with the shack being located where it was, I felt the possibility of Voldemort stationing Death Eaters in the area was too high. That worry turned out to be false, nevertheless, I am glad that I did not bring you three with."
"How was it protected?" Hermione asked, almost before Dumbledore had finished talking.
"Besides the Muggle-Repelling charms, the shack wasn't," Moody grunted. "Gave us a false sense of security, that did."
"What was there?" Harry asked, finally pulling his attention away from the horcrux.
"The ring was hidden in a small box beneath the floorboards. It was cursed with...well, let us simply say that putting the ring on would have been an easy method of achieving a slow, agonizing demise."
Dumbledore paused for a moment, turning to Moody. "Alastor, I believe over the summer you should start teaching our assistants at least the basics of detecting and disabling cursed objects."
Turning back to the trio, Dumbledore continued.
"There was also an exceptionally brilliant Compulsion Charm on it. Truly, Voldemort outdid himself there. I have never seen a Compulsion as subtle, nor as powerful as that one. Had I been alone, I would doubtless have succumbed. Had Alastor been even a few feet closer, he surely would have as well."
"The Compulsion was to make you put it on?"
"Indeed," Dumbledore said, smiling at Ron. "And I was about to do so when Alastor stopped me. Remember that. I was expecting there to be traps, and I am a quite accomplished Occlumens, but I still almost succumbed. Why, had Alastor been even a few seconds slower, I would be dead or dying right now."
For someone who had come so close to death, Dumbledore looked remarkably cheerful, his eyes twinkling as he recounted the tale.
"Thankfully, we have removed the Compulsion, and the Withering Curse as well. Now it simply remains for us to kill it."
With a wave of his wand, the display case behind Dumbledore opened, the sword within flying out to land in his outstretched hand.
"This should be most instructive. As far as I know, we are in no danger, but if you would, Alastor?"
Moody nodded curtly, gesturing for Harry, Ron, and Hermione to take a step back before waving his own wand and erecting a shield between them and the desk.
Dumbledore stabbed the sword into the ring.
The ring shook, a thin, viscous black fluid leaking out of it. Harry became aware of a sound just on the edge of hearing, a high-pitched, terrified wail.
And then it was over, the sound ending as the smoke-like fluid vanished and the ring stopped shaking.
"Very interesting," Dumbledore said, pushing his glasses up to the bridge of his nose and peering down at the ring. "Very interesting indeed. Well, gentlemen, Miss Granger, three down, four to go."
"You may rise."
Ginny pushed herself to her feet, gazing up at her lord with anticipatory excitement.
Every time he'd spoken to her over the last few weeks, he'd hinted that he had a mission in mind for her, something big.
It must have been big, whatever it was. Since the night he'd summoned them all to him, he'd barely given her and Bellatrix anything to do, instead telling them to focus on getting Ginny in fighting shape.
Oh, he'd sent them on a few, smaller jobs; they'd helped Greyback capture and infect two children of Wizengamot members, and had killed another family of Muggles, but whenever he spoke about his plans for her, Ginny got the sense that it was something much, much more.
"Draco Malfoy will be returning for his summer holidays in a week," the Dark Lord said, his high-pitched, cruel voice music to her ears. "And I will be giving him his orders then, as well as Marking him. He is to gain us entry and bring a strike team into the castle, whereby he will assassinate Dumbledore and kidnap Potter."
Her hopes came crashing down, a leaden feeling settling in her chest.
Some of her confused disappointment must have shown on her face. He smiled, gripping her chin and forcing her to lift her head.
"You will be his liaison, his handler, if you will. When the time comes, you and Bellatrix will lead the attack force on Hogwarts. And if Draco proves unable to do so, you will be the one to execute Dumbledore."
Her heart leapt, excitement making her blood sing.
Here, here was the chance to prove just how useful she was, here was the chance to show the other Death Eaters just what she was capable of.
No-one would remember her failed attempt to kidnap Potter, not once she had killed Dumbledore.
"I-I will, my lord."
"I know. Draco's job will be to secure the Chamber of Secrets and ensure that apparition is possible into it. He will need assistance from the outside. When the time comes, if he is unable to carry out Dumbledore's murder, you will do it. And as a reward, I will give him to you and Bellatrix to do with as you will."
"Thank you," she whispered. "I won't fail."
"I know. A time of change is coming, and you stand at the cusp of it. You, Ginny Weasley, you will stand at my right hand and help bring our enemies to their knees."