Chapter 12

Her nerves were shot. Her hand shook as she sipped at her butterbeer and scanned the crowd milling around the Three Broomsticks. She was here on official business for the Order, her first assignment, but she couldn't help thinking this was a giant mistake.

Why had she been appointed the liaison between the Order and...Fred and George's Bloke? Or whoever he was. Surely there were more capable witches or wizards. Ones who were not shaking in their shoes the entire time they had to write the letter and use the spell to summon him.

His reply had come almost immediately, shocking her. An hour after she'd sent the letter, a pop sounded in her bedroom at the Burrow-his own correspondence back to her, setting up this meeting. Why he'd chosen such a high-profile, public place was beyond Ginny.

And if that wasn't all, she'd been cornered by Harry Potter again, just an hour before she was supposed to be seated at the pub. The conversation had started out polite, if awkward, but had quickly turned as Harry demanded that she listen to him, and even reciprocate his feelings. Ginny stopped feeling guilty at that point, and simply wanted to hex the living daylights out of him. It was fine that he felt that way, but she had no obligation to return his feeling simply because he wanted her to. The nerve!

"Ginny Weasley?"

Madam Rosemerta approached Ginny's table, balancing a large tray of precariously balanced drinks.

"Er…"

"No way of hiding with that hair, love," the barmaid said with a laugh. "I'm afraid I recognize it all too well. Your brothers were in here more than they ever were up at the school."

Ginny rolled her eyes and nodded her head. "So I've heard."

"Anyway, you've got a message." She handed over an envelope sealed with deep purple wax.

"An owl?" Ginny asked. "A messenger?"

"No idea," Rosemerta said with a shrug. "Whoever it was just gave it to one of the patrons, who gave it to me." She shifted the tray on her hand and called across the room to the witches and wizards trying to get her attention. "Hold your hippogriffs, I'll be right there."

She set the envelope on the table and Ginny started at it before looking around the pub, trying to see if anyone was watching her. Nobody seemed to stand out and Ginny wondered if this was some sort of test, or maybe even a trap.

The Bloke hadn't said anything about sending a message in his letter. He'd just set the time and place for the meeting, no other details.

Then again, considering his history with sending Gred and Forge on wild goose chases, Ginny should have expected something more than a simple sit-down, face-to-face meeting.

Discreetly pulling her wand, Ginny tried to detect if there were any spells on the letter, but there appeared to be nothing.

With a deep breath, Ginny scooped the envelope into her pocket, left some money on the table, and walked outside, trying not to let her pounding heart evaporate her courage away. She continued down the road, almost reaching Hogsmeade station before she chanced looking at the letter. Her fingers traced the seal, then slipped under the edge, breaking it. Inside was a plain piece of parchment and a single, downy feather.

"Miss Weasley," she read aloud, barely a whisper. "Apologies for what must seem like a chase. Unfortunately, the Three Broomsticks is far too visible for someone like myself. And you'd be at risk, also if we met there."

Annoyance erupted in Ginny. "Why did he send me there, then?!"

"I know I've given no reason for you to trust me, but please do. The feather is a portkey. It can be activated to bring you to a safe location by speaking your name."

It was signed with an ornate BH. Ginny wracked her brain, trying to remember what her siblings had called the man. Nothing with the initials of BH came to her. Perhaps it was yet another alias.

She scoffed at the idea of using a portkey to an unknown location provided by an unknown wizard, and leaving herself completely at his mercy. It didn't sound wise at all.

And if the message from the Order hadn't been urgent, Ginny would have destroyed the portkey and apparated home. But...Percy had said that they needed this wizard's help on one of their missions, that it was vital. And since it was her assignment…

She braced herself, wand out, and clasped the feather in her fist. "Ginny Weasley."

Nothing happened.

Ginny blinked at the item, trying to decide what to do. If he'd sent her a defective…

"Seriously," she grumbled.

"Ginevra Weasley."

Nothing happened.

"Ginevra Molly Weasley."

The hook and pull feeling in her middle took her by surprise and she squeaked, gripping her wand even tighter.

She landed in an ungraceful heap on a dusty floor, her ankle twisting in the fall. She grasped it and bit her lips rather than swear at the pain.

The room was half-lit, and extremely musty. She stood, wincing at the ankle, and brushing her robes and trying to get her bearings. The place was a mess. Broken furniture lay scattered about the sitting room with a heavy layer of dust, cobwebs, and muck. There was an old chintz settee pushed back against one wall that looked as if it had bite marks in the torn cushions. Bite marks!

"Hello?"

Nobody answered and Ginny prepared herself to apparate back to Hogsmeade. Her ankle wasn't strong enough to put weight on, and she sucked in a breath when she tried.

"Of course," she muttered. "Should have known. Send me running all over the countryside."

Ginny huffed and glared at the feather that sat harmlessly on a pile of torn, dirty rags in the middle of the floor.

"Are you always this impatient?"

She swore loudly this time and teetered, falling back to the settee and sending up a cloud of dust.

"Yes," she finally said as he looked him up and down. His cloak was in place, hiding his face in shadow. She got the distinct impression that he was trying not to laugh at her. "I don't suffer fools well."

"Am I a fool?"

"That's yet to be seen." How she had the nerve to be so cheeky toward him, Ginny didn't know. "I was lured here-wherever here is-and I find that I'm completely at your mercy. I don't like the feeling."

"Ah."

She tugged at her robes, lifting her ankle and poking at the slight swelling there.

"You hurt yourself?"

Ginny took a calming breath and nodded. "Just my ankle." She pulled her wand, but the man stepped forward.

"Let me," he said. "I have a bit of experience in this sort of thing."

He moved impossibly close and Ginny felt herself flush all over. Her mind felt foggy and jumped all over, noticing things about him, about the room, and about unconnected events until everything was just a mashed up blur.

He palpated her ankle and his fingers were both cold and warm at the same time. "Doesn't appear to be broken."

"Just...just twisted." Ginny wished he'd lift his head, just a bit more, then she could look under his hood to see his face. There was something about his voice that triggered a memory, but her fogged mind couldn't seem to grasp onto it to pull it forward.

"I'll just heal it," he said. "Simple spell. Nothing threatening."

Ginny's heart raced and she felt herself nod. His hands steadied her foot, one on each side. He didn't use a wand, but the feeling of the healing spell was the same she expected.

"Wandless," she murmured.

He chuckled. "It's up my sleeve."

"Oh"

He was still holding her ankle and dropped it, as if just realizing that he was touching her skin.

"Where are we?"

"Someplace you would know."

"I don't know this place." She looked around, trying to decide why he thought she might.

The wizard backed up, more into the shadow once more, and Ginny felt her mind clear slightly.

"It's the Shrieking Shack."

"Oh." She scowled. "The most haunted house in Britain."

A strange laugh came from him. "That's the rumor."

A shiver ran through her, but she forced it away. She had business with this man, if she could just remember what it was she was supposed to tell him.

"Are you…"

"What?"

"Are you using a Confundus Charm on me?"

"Too strong?"

"It's a bit hard to focus."

He sighed and made a strange motion with his hand. The fog seemed to clear a bit.

"You didn't use one the last time we met."

"Didn't need to," he said.

She thought about that and opened her mouth to question it more, but then shook it away. Who understood wizards like him, anyway?

"I'm here representing an organization that requires your help."

She could only see a part of his lower jaw, but thought maybe he smirked. "And what organization is that?"

"The Order of the Phoenix."

"Dumbledore's Army."

Ginny bit her lip. "I suppose, you could call it that. He leads the Order."

"And you're their representative?"

Something about the question bristled and Ginny stood up, straightening her robes. "Yes."

"Okay."

They stared at each other for a long minute.

"Won't you take the cloak off?"

"It's better for us both if I don't."

"Why?"

"Safety, mostly," he said. "And I really don't want to have to use a memory charm on you."

"Oh."

"Is this just the introduction phase?" he asked. "You wanted to meet me in an official capacity as a messenger of Dumbledore's Army?"

Ginny scowled at him. "No. I have a message. If you'd shut up long enough for me to give it…" He tilted his head to the side, acknowledging her point. "The Order is trying to bring about the downfall of You-Know-"

"Say the name."

She hesitated, startled at his bark. "Vol-Voldemort," she said, her mouth going dry.

"Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself," he said. "He's a man-a wizard-no matter how much he's bastardized himself in the process of living. He's just a man."

A fissure of awe enveloped Ginny. "We...we're trying to bring his downfall."

"Okay."

"And...and we think that you could help us."

"In what way?"

"In many ways. We know about your...skills, or have heard of them, anyway."

"Interesting."

"Why is that interesting?"

"It just is."

Ginny huffed and crossed her arms in front of her. He was infuriating on a strange level. It was as if he liked talking in riddles to see if she were smart enough to figure out what he meant.

"You remind me of Professor Dumbledore."

He barked out a laugh. "Hardly"

"Hmm."

"But I am curious how you think my...er...skills could be useful to you."

Ginny felt her face flush as she considered that sentence. " Not me! I mean...the Order…"

"Of course. What did you think I meant?"

"Nothing," she answered quickly. "I'm meant to make contact with you, to see if you would be willing to work with us. Mostly, right now, it would be to provide information back and forth, since you seem less than inclined to make meeting an easy prospect."

He laughed and shook his head. "How do you know that we have the same goals, Miss Weasley? Perhaps I have no intention of stopping Voldemort's rise to power."

She hadn't considered that before and stared at him. "You do," she said, finally. "I believe that."

"You have faith."

"I suppose that's what you'd call it."

"I should be flattered…"

"But you're not?"

"In your faith? Yes. In Dumbledore's? I'm not so sure."

"You don't trust him."

"Dumbledore has his own agenda. Everyone does, I suppose. We are all human, after all. But since I don't know his agenda just yet, I'm inclined to be hesitant."

"Hesitant to join us?"

"I will not be joining the Order," he said firmly. "Working with and joining are two very different things."

"I suppose you are right."

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend."

Ginny scowled. "Then Vol-Voldemort is your enemy. You admit it. You're talking in circles and it's making me dizzy."

"Sit down."

"I don't think I will."

"Suit yourself."

"I'm not sure this is even a good idea anymore." She threw up her hands and stared at him.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I'm not meaning to frustrate you, or even imply that I won't work with you."

"Will it be this difficult every time?"

"Probably."

"At least you're honest," she muttered.

"You may report back to the Order that I am willing to exchange information on several conditions. First, you are to be my contact every time."

Ginny felt herself flush and shook her head slowly, even though she knew she'd do it.

"Second, I make no promises that I'll participate past a certain point."

"You won't kill anyone," she said flippantly, "I've got it."

He hesitated. "Not necessarily."

A chill ran through her as she stared at where his face should be.

"I mean, I'm not opposed, if the situation warrants it."

"Oh."

"Turba Malum, right?"

"I don't know what that means."

"Look it up." He seemed amused and Ginny was growing tired of this cat-and-mouse style game.

"Any other conditions?"

"Not that I can think of right now," he said. "Does the Order have any conditions for me?"

"No."

"Interesting."

"Why?"

"Because every relationship comes with conditions, Ginny, it's just about discovering what they are."

His familiarity with her made her feel warm, yet cold at the same time. He'd admitted that he was not opposed to violence, if necessary, and given his chosen line of work it was highly likely that he'd already participated in some.

"That's a rather cynical view of life."

"Perhaps."

They were quiet as Ginny considered what more needed to be said. She'd delivered her invitation for him to join the order, which he'd declined. And he'd, in turn, delivered his conditions for continuing a mutually beneficial exchange of information.

"Why do you oppose Voldemort?"

The question shocked her. Wasn't it obvious?

"Not so much," he said when she asked him that. "And I've found that people generally have personal reasons beyond the fact that he's a murdering psychopath that they're morally opposed to."

Flashes of Tom Riddle came to her mind and Ginny closed her eyes against them. "My uncles died in the last war. My brothers are fighting in this one."

"Not good enough."

Her eyes flashed open and she glared. "What's your reason?"

"We're talking about you."

Ginny shook her head, unwilling to tell him of her past. He might know anyway, since he seemed to know so much anyway.

"We're done here," she said. "I'll be in contact when-if-we need to talk again."

"I didn't mean to offend."

"Yes, you did. You meant to put me on edge. It gives you an advantage when I'm flustered and thinking about myself. Then I'm not picking apart your life."

He was quiet and she wondered if she'd guessed correctly.

"Here." He rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a galleon coin. "I've charmed it. No need to send my owl back and forth, wearing out his wings." He flipped the coin to her, but Ginny let it fall to the ground. She didn't want to be caught unaware by a portkey, should he try to trick her.

"The same spell will activate it. It will let me know that you need me."

"Is this charming location meant to be our meeting place?"

"Do you have a better idea?"

Nothing would come to her and Ginny wondered if he'd used a Confundus Charm again. His tone was more closed off again, guarded.

"For now, this will do. I've changed the wards so that both you and I can apparate in and out. Nobody else."

Ginny bent and snatched the coin off the floor, shoving it into her pocket. "Fine."

"Anything else?"

"Not unless you want to kill Harry Potter for me," she said with a smirk."

"Pardon?"

"Let me get this straight." Sirius was nearly falling off his chair laughing and Blackheart wanted to hex him. "She...she wants you to kill...you?"

"No! Well, yes. But no."

Sirius' laugher nearly shook the room. "Do you ever get confused? I mean, beyond all the names and identities you're juggling, now you're dating the same witch that your hidden identity is arranging clandestine meetings with.

Blackheart rested his head on the back of the sofa and stared up at the dark ceiling. "You have no idea."

"Are you ever going to tell her?"

"Where would I start?"

Sirius didn't seem to have an answer either and just shook his head. "It'll all come out in the end."

"Will there be an end?" He knew he sounded desperate, but this whole situation was getting out of hand. Despite the layers of complexity pulling Ginny in had added, Blackheart couldn't allow himself to regret it. Ginny had allowed himself to hope that beyond all of this-beyond the war, beyond the hidden identities-there might be hope of a different life waiting for him.

"You don't think working with the Order is a good idea?"

"I didn't say that."

"You told Ginny you wouldn't join. You called it Dumbledore's Army."

Blackheart winced. "Yeah. I did."

"But I think I understand," Sirius said. "Dumbledore does have an agenda. That's not to say it's not aligned with ours, though."

"And he's pulled Ginny into it." The thought made him madder each time it occurred to him. "Despite her past."

"You're underestimating her."

"You've never met her."

"I read the file, kiddo. She's a strong witch. She was back then, at twelve, and I can only imagine that's gotten truer as she's gotten older."

He couldn't argue with that. It was something that intrigued him about Ginny greatly. "I still don't like it."

"Of course not," said Sirius, "he's endangering the woman you love."

Blackheart spluttered. "I don't… I mean. I'm not sure…."

Sirius just laughed. "Okay, maybe it's a bit early for that. But I get it, I see why you don't want her involved. Your father had the same argument with your mother, especially once they found out you were on the way." Blackheart scowled and sank lower in his chair. "Let's agree to give Dumbledore a little pass on this one. He's getting desperate."

"We all are."

They were quiet for a long time as Blackheart let everything he was involved in swirl in his brain. Everything seemed to be moving faster and faster, coming to a point that he couldn't quite define somewhere in the not-too-distant future. Was it Voldemort? Was it the end of his spying? Was it some sort of a relationship with Ginny? He just didn't know.

"I was wrong."

Sirius startled and blinked at him. "About what?"

"Keeping you locked away here," Blackheart said. "I just...I couldn't handle the thought of losing you when I'd just found you."

"I understand."

"I don't think you do."

"I really do," he said. "You think I don't know about loneliness?"

Blackheart felt his throat grow thick and he nodded. He'd been so selfish, so determined that he could control every little thing in his world so that he would never have to be left alone again, that he'd made rash decisions impacting everyone around him.

"I've released the charms," he said. "You...you can leave anytime you want."

Sirius stared at him, but seemed to be at a loss for words. "Thank you."

Blackheart stared into the dark room. "This will end soon," he said. He didn't know how he knew. Call it faith, he supposed. Ginny's faith in him had changed something inside him.

"I hope," Sirius said, "for everyone's sake."

Blackheart was enjoying himself. The brooms today were sport models, in development for one of the professional Quidditch teams. Morgan wouldn't tell them which one, but both he and Ginny had been thrilled to be able to work on something with a bit more speed and agility.

Finally, they seemed to be getting back on what Blackheart felt was an even keel after the last few weeks of awkwardness. Ginny was flirting through the listening device once more, and Blackheart was gathering the nerve to set a time and place for their date.

It was refreshing to see that the two Ginny's he knew-one as the mysterious Blackheart, and this one as Harry-were essentially the same. She was quick witted, had a sharp tongue, and was funny. Blackheart felt a bit bad for deceiving her, but in a way, she was doing the same thing. She hadn't told Harry that she was a spy for the Order and was meeting with strange, secretive men.

They both had their secrets.

"Race you!"

"I have a better idea." Blackheart reached into his pocket and withdrew a small satchel. He held it up so that she could see it and her eyes widened.

"You're on."

"What does the winner get?" he asked. "We need to set the rules."

"I'll tell you when I win," Ginny said with a laugh. "Release it!"

Blackheart tugged at the string closing the top and the brand new snitch lifted out, stretching wings and hovering a moment before darting away.

Ginny leaned down on her broom and shot off after the ball, dodging and weaving as it did. Blackheart watched for a moment, a satisfying warmth filling his chest. He'd felt...off lately and couldn't explain just why. The anxiety over the situations he got himself into was part of it, but he'd been having strange dreams again and wasn't sleeping well. This was bringing headaches on and he now had one almost constantly, although they were usually mild enough to ignore.

"You're going to lose just hovering there, Harry."

Ginny raced by and Blackheart laughed as he shot after her, laying low on the broom he'd been given and almost catching up with her. They raced around the pitch and Blackheart wasn't sure if she was really watching for the elusive snitch, or if she was just enjoying flying, like he was.

They doubled back, side by side, before Ginny split off, diving spectacularly and whooping in his ear. Blackheart laughed as he slowed his pace and scanned the pitch. Quidditch was always something he'd wanted to try, but had never been given the opportunity. Ginny was a natural at flying and he had no doubt that one day she might be headlining a team somewhere. If she did, he knew he'd be in the stands cheering her on. A hopeful thought that she might be his flashed in his mind, but Blackheart tucked it away. It was a pleasant, happy thought that he'd enjoy later.

A twinge of pain erupted through his mind and Blackheart gasped, pressing his palm to his forehead. It went as quickly as it came, but left a shadow of pain.

"You're stalling," Ginny called through laughter. "And I've just seen it!"

He tried to laugh, but felt dizzy as a wave of intense furry crashed over him. He clutched to his broom, feeling himself sway.

"Harry, I caught it." Ginny's voice was like a song in the back of his mind, but he couldn't concentrate over the foggy, disconnected feeling.

And suddenly, he was falling, his head pounding and his eyes going black. He heard someone yell and felt the pinch and pull of the safety harness, but only saw black as the grass of the pitch rushed up to meet him.