Disclaimer: I don't own anything but my imagination. I was inspired by J.K. Rowlings wonderful world. Enjoy!

Author's Note: Sorry about the chapters being so mixed up...no idea what happened. But its corrected now.

It is a curious thing, Harry, but perhaps those who are best suited to power are those who have never sought it. Those who, like you, have leadership thrust upon them, and take up the mantle because they must, and find to their own surprise that they wear it well.

~Albus Dumbledore

Spellbinding

Page 8

It had taken sometime before peace fell among them. The others were slowly arriving. Bill and Harry were reminiscing the battle. Ginny had walked across the kitchen, meaning to put together sandwiches for everyone. This is when she heard them say, there was a liar among them, that someone had given them away. The atmosphere in the room became as reticent as death approaching and suddenly everyone looked at the other, as if the word liar would appear upon the guilty one.

No one spoke. . .

Who could have deceived them so coldly. . .?

"No," Harry said aloud, and they all looked at him, surprised. "I mean . . . if somebody made a mistake, and let something slip, I know they didn't mean to do it. It's not their fault," he repeated.

Ginny did not move, for all eyes in the room were not on her. Everyone was completely silent and eyeing Hagrid.

"We've got to trust each other. I trust all of you, I don't think anyone in this room would ever sell me to Voldemort."

"Well said, Harry."

Ginny released a breath of air she didn't know she had been holding, and she was sick to her stomach now. She wanted to just leave their company and never return, but fear held her there. She would draw attention if she left now, and she knew they would never let her go. So she stayed.

Her hands were shaking as she carried over the platter of fresh sandwiches. But given the situation, everyone excused her jumpy and withdrawn behavior as rattled nerves. But dear god what had she done? Something deep inside told her she was the one. She was the defected link in their plans tonight, and there was no way to close her eyes to the truth. Harry had nearly died tonight, but without thinking much about it at all, she worried more for another boy rather than Harry Potter. She knew that Tom Riddle was out there somewhere; he had come back into her life again, and she was glad for his return. Sadly, she had no idea what she was truly capable of anymore.

Ten minutes had passed and Ginny was still standing outside. holding her brush in her hand, looking down at it; it was the only brush she owned. She examined the retired portkey. It had been a birthday gift last year.

Her mother had used her brush as a backup plan, a last moment's decision. Ginny was very thankful she had not learned about the secret portkey, if she had then she may have left Ted and his wife to their deaths. Yes, she was incredibly thankful. She smiled, and the tears that had been lining her eyes fell.

She closed her eyes and the warmth of the high noon sun washed over her. Ginny felt unworthy of its merciful light. She wanted it to heat up a thousand times more greater, grow hotter than the fires of hell and shrivel her away. Churn her deceitful heart with an inferno of flames, until she was nothing but dust and ash. Then, she would blow away with the storm, and never endanger anyone again.

She was hurting inside….how could she betray her friends this way…

Why was Tom Riddle here? Why had he come back after all this time she wondered. And she. . . waited . . .waited, for soon that the merciful blazing ball above her would answer her prays.

But her sobbing intensified when nothing came to end her miserable life, there was nothing as her tears fell onto her young cheeks. There was no sound. . .only the sound of a sparrow. . . the cackling of a crow; perhaps it was laughing at her. Laughing at her foolish, girlish heart . . . the wind, the wind pushing past her . . . . the sound of a laughter, light and playful. Ginny opened her eyes and standing nearly a yard away was the girl.

The brushed slipped from her hand and plopped into the dirt. Ginny stood very still, too afraid to move.