Chapter Eleven: The Battle of Evermore
Ginny ran a hand through her warm, damp hair and trudged down to the library to start her Charms essay that was due tomorrow. She wanted nothing more than to relax with a nice warm Butterbeer after the Quidditch practice she'd had, and promised herself she'd only work hard enough to scrape together something resembling an essay on the subtleties of making an end table dance a hornpipe. Colin was already gone when she arrived, but Luna was immersed in reading at a table near the starry window and didn't even look up when Ginny dropped her bag on the table. "How was practice?" she asked, her finger still skimming down the page.
"Unending," Ginny groaned.
"Dean still mad?"
"Furious." She'd handed last week's match to Ravenclaw on a silver platter.
"He'll get over it."
"He'd better. How's your essay coming?"
"Essay?" she asked blankly.
"For Charms?"
"Oh, that," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "I finished that on Sunday."
"What're you working on, then? Did you get some Arithmancy homework?"
"I did, but it's not due until Friday. I was working on it in the Common Room but people kept Banishing my books and it actually gave me an idea for the DA. It's kind of complicated, but I'm looking up the theory right now and it should be more solid for the next meeting." The DA, spurred on by Snape's death, was training harder than ever, but it seemed to Ginny that she was getting worse instead of better at battle spells. She hoped it was the strain of recent events affecting her performance. It was like being in a time warp, second year all over again with secrets to keep, clandestine friends turned betrayers, and horrifying knowledge. On top of the stress in her waking hours, she had a new nightmare to add to her regular circuit of Harry's Amortentia and Tom's lies. Now, in her dreams she killed Draco and then cried inconsolably, even though she was happy he was dead. If only she could throw the Immolation Curse that easily when she was conscious…. "Are you still working on your Charms essay?" Luna asked.
"Well, that would imply that I've started, so no."
Luna smiled sympathetically. "I'll keep you company." But even Luna left the library with a yawn and an apology shortly after midnight.
Ginny couldn't keep her concentration the next day and was only gleaning snatches of McGonagall's Transfiguration lecture on the theory of person-to-inanimate-object Transfiguration. "It is possible for a person to die when Transfigured into an object, which is why there are no accounts of persons in hiding as jewellery boxes for extended periods of time. It is far safer to reside in a sentient form, as Animagi do." Ginny's thoughts rested briefly on Peter Pettigrew and remembered with satisfaction that when she was young she would steal Scabbers away from Ron occasionally and dress the rat as a ruffled pink baby. Her eyes closed as she relished Pettigrew's likely feelings on the matter. "Likewise, as you've no doubt seen for yourself," McGonagall's voice continued, "an object Transfigured into an animal may seem normal at first, but will begin to…." McGonagall trailed off abruptly, a student cried out, and Ginny's eyes flew open.
Professor McGonagall was glowing. Light was radiating from a small circle on the Headmistress' chest. Ginny looked down and saw an echoing beacon at her hip. She shared a wide-eyed look with Colin, but where hers was of horror, his was of delight.
"Students," McGonagall said, her voice clear, "I must ask you to retire to the Great Hall immediately and remain there until further notice. Immediately," she repeated crossly as the class began to murmur instead of move. Ginny, Colin, and Luna shot to the front of the pack as students began to file into the hallway. "Off you go, now," she said to the class, motioning for the DA members to follow her. She swept down the hall and threw open a classroom door to discover Hermione squared off against Professor Lamentina with other students physically backing her. Lamentina whirled at the intrusion and visibly relaxed when she saw who it was. "Minerva, would you-"
"The Tortoise Protocol has been invoked," McGonagall interrupted. Lamentina went still. "I'll be away from the school so I must trust you to carry everything, Arianne. Miss Granger, if you would collect the other students?" Hermione disappeared and McGonagall waved her co-conspirators forward.
Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Morag MacDougal and Daphne Greengrass were rooted to their seats, surveying the scene with ill-concealed incredulity. "What is going on?" Parkinson cried, disgruntled at being left in the dark.
"All students to the Great Hall," Lamentina snapped.
McGonagall led the DA on a hurried path outside Hogwarts. Colin could barely contain his excitement; he kept looking over at Ginny with a grin that strained the tendons in his neck, and when Hermione rejoined them with the younger DA members, he high-fived Dennis. Luna was solemn and dignified, her eyes betraying a hint of fire. Neville's face was stony and grim. Hermione waved everyone forward with a fanatical expression on her face. Ginny felt numb. Not yet. She wasn't ready. The DA wasn't ready. She saw Anthony and Terry smirk at each other and realized that most of the group had never seen battle and didn't know what to expect. She felt ancient in comparison.
McGonagall halted and turned to her charges, who were beginning to shiver in the frosty air. "Accio winter cloaks!" she said with exasperation, and turned somber once more. "Students, you already made your decision about your participation in this war years ago, but I must remind you that what you are about to do is extremely dangerous." Colin and Dennis, now decked in outerwear, could barely suppress their glee. "Your own safety is paramount; remain alert and defensive at all times. Count to five, and if I haven't returned, follow. And students," Professor McGonagall whispered, her jaw clenched, "do take care of each other." The Headmistress pulled a chain on her neck, and retrieved a radiant blue velvet pouch from beneath her robes. Meditatively, she reached her fingers inside the pouch and abruptly vanished.
Ginny hadn't realized that she was holding her breath until Hermione broke the ensuing silence. "The fate of the wizarding world could rest upon this day," she intoned, her voice carrying easily across the snow. "Remember what we've learned, and let's go do Harry proud!"
The DA cheered lustily and began to Portkey away. Dennis and Colin were already gone. Luna and Terry disappeared. Neville dropped his pouch, bent down to retrieve it, and vanished in his crouch. Hurriedly, Ginny shoved her cloak aside and thrust her hand inside her pocket. Her hand stopped abruptly; her pocket was folded. She tried to wiggle her fingers but they were still. Panicking, she tried to pull her hand free, but nothing moved. She was Frozen. Her eyes went to the only figure remaining. Hermione was worrying her lip, staring absently into space and tugging her drawstring open; abruptly, Ginny was alone and still unable to move. She felt oddly claustrophobic, like she had the time Fred and George had shoved her under her bed. The lack of movement was maddening, but the discomfort was rapidly overtaken by dread at finding out why she was immobile. Was Tom here? Was the whole thing a ruse? Were they going to kill her like this, like the cowards they were? Her heart beat faster and faster – or was it beating at all? – and if she was indeed breathing, she was probably hyperventilating. It was almost a relief to feel an arm go around her waist followed by the unmistakable compression of Side-Along Apparition.