The Carrows' Calling

Disclaimer: None of this is mine. All credit goes to J.K. Rowling. *bows down.*

Chapter Twenty-Three

"Neville, see? This is exactly what I'm talking about!" Ginny exclaimed, her voice straining.

Neville was standing before her, his fists clenched tight, his wand in one of them. His eyes were stormy, and behind the storm, there was fire. A lot of it. More than she had ever seen before, from anyone, she thought. Ginny felt herself slowly back away from Neville, and that's when she realised something.

She was afraid of Neville. She was afraid of him. When did it come to this? Neville was supposed to be the small, sweet boy, scared of his own shadow, looking up to Ginny. He had changed. She had changed. The war had changed both of them. Neville, the lovely, caring boy, had been twisted into something dark. Something broken.

Ginny pleaded with her eyes, palms raised up. Please, Neville. Please don't do this.

Neville paused. Then, as if he had understood, he slumped down against the wall, his head rested in his hands. This year has hurt us more than I thought it would. Much, much more.

Ginny walked over to where Neville was and sat down beside him. She leaned her head against the wall, and the pair sat in a heavy silence.

Ginny was the first to break it. "Neville?" she asked, her voice quiet.

He looked up. "What is it, Ginny?" he spat, voice harsh. But he wasn't done. "What are you going to say now, Ginny? That you're sorry?" He scoffed. "Do you think sorry's going to cut it? Sorry this, sorry that! When are you really going to be sorry? When?" He rambled on; he had gotten up and had began to pace the room, faster and faster. He was making wild hand gestures, and his hair was completely tussled up. His face had started to go red from anger.

"When are you actually going to think, Ginny? Think! Think before you do anything! Don't just rush into some type of situation, think! When?" Neville yelled, facing Ginny, who was still hunched on the floor, now trembling a bit from this outburst.

Then, her jaw set. She got up and pulled herself to match his height, got up in his face.

"You're one to talk, letting your emotions get the better of you, clouding your thoughts. And you tell me to think!" Ginny retorted, her mouth working much too fast for her brain to register. Neville narrowed her eyes at her, and opened his mouth, but quickly closed it. Then opened it again, and this time, he spoke.

"You think you're so clever, talking back to the Carrows. You're not doing anything other than getting into bigger problems. Think about other people too, Ginny. The world doesn't revolve around you," Neville spat back. Ginny glared at him and responded before she could think.

"Why, like you're any better, stealing stuff off professors' desks," Ginny scoffed, crossing her arms.

"And professors' things I shall steal, since information seems to be so important to you! And, you know what? You're on your own now. I don't think you'll need my help, as you think so much before you do," Neville retorted, and with that, he left the room in a huff, slamming the door behind him. The dust spurted up behind him.

Ginny sat there, dumbfounded, shocked that she and Neville had such a fight. Throughout their entire friendship, they had never really fought. When they did though, it was about something so petty they soon forgot what they were arguing about, and would always just resolve it quickly.

But this. This was different. They were both trapped in dark, dark times and now that Ginny thought about it, she didn't know whether she trusted Neville or not. She didn't even know if Neville trusted her. Would she ever know? McGonagall's words came back to her mind.

"Watch your back. We are in dark times, remember this. Don't walk blindly into things. Trust no one." What had the professor really meant to say? Did she know something Ginny didn't? If she was trying to help them, it didn't work really well, did it? thought Ginny bitterly. It just turned friend on friend.

It wasn't really what Neville had said that bothered Ginny. In fact, she didn't really hear what Neville had said about her. It was his tone. It sounded like he meant it. Like he meant that Ginny was left on her own.

Oh, if only Luna was here! Never had she ever, ever missed her friend so much. Luna had always been there for her. Sure, she was a bit quirky, but it was Luna. Everything about it was so Luna. And a world without it pained Ginny to no end. She had no idea whatsoever about where her friend could be, what she could be doing, or what could be happening to her.

Ginny hadn't heard word about Harry either, nothing about the Boy-Who-Lived. Oh, how she wished everything could be like when they were young and innocent, and knew nothing of the world around them. But even with Ginny, that was never meant to last.

She could remember the days when Tom Riddle had possessed her, and the day she had been left there to die. It still haunted her, the chamber, the giant snake.

As her mind wandered, Ginny hadn't noticed someone quietly walk into the room.

A man dressed in black robes and greasy black hair slipped into the room and shut the door behind him with a small snap. The man didn't seem to have noticed Ginny, until her name rang through the chamber like a stone dropped in water.

"Miss. Weasley. It is such a pleasure to see you again," the man said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Ginny's head snapped around to the sound of her name and saw Headmaster Snape standing before her, a sneer etched upon his face. He was towering over her, and since she was sitting on the ground, Ginny suddenly felt very small compared to the Headmaster.

She quickly stood and drew herself up to match Snape's height. She was almost as tall as he was. She looked him in the eye and spoke to him in a very solemn, steady voice.

"I'll be on my way, Headmaster," she said. The headmaster nodded and pulled the door open for her to leave, giving her a mocking bow.

"Next time Miss. Weasley, don't come back to this classroom again. You have been warned," Snape added, once Ginny was right on the foothold of the classroom. Ginny gave him a puzzled look, but the door had been slammed in her face. She stood there for a while, pondering the Headmaster's words.

So many warnings now, she thought, referring to Professor McGonagall's words. Then, she found herself walking back to the common room, her feet leading her rather than her mind.

Thoughts ran through her mind as she walked, one sticking out like a sore thumb.

What was Snape doing in that room? It's just an unused classroom… It wasn't like the room was in the dungeons, Ginny knew better than to be caught there.

Once she reached the common room, she gave the portrait the password: Vigilate.

She stepped into the room, letting the warm air brush over her. She decided to head up into her dormitory, hoping to get some homework done. Perhaps even the Dark Arts and Muggle Studies, she thought with disgust. But little did she know that that was the little peace she would get in the next few months to come.

It started small—Ginny realised one day, during lunch—Elizabeth. She was gone. Perhaps she doesn't feel well, Ginny wondered. I hope she's alright. A swirling amount of thoughts ran through her mind about Elizabeth, each one getting crazier than the other. It ranged from the young, blonde girl being kidnapped by a troll, to Voldemort secretly killing her in a secret room out of the castle.

Ginny shook her head. She didn't need these excess thoughts clouding her mind, she had enough going on.

And, with that, it was pushed out of her mind. Ginny's mind didn't wander back to it during class, or anything of the sort.

Except she wasn't anywhere to be seen the next day, either. And the next. The days passed by without even a glimpse of the small, blonde-haired girl prancing through the halls. The two braids were never seen whipping around a corner in a rush to get to class. No small bows of many shapes, colours and sizes were left in the common room for Ginny to pocket, and hand to her later.

A couple days later, Ginny began to worry. The thoughts came back, haunting her once more. She had always seen Elizabeth, whether in the halls, at lunch, or between classes—at least once a day, just small talk, nothing more. But she hasn't seen Elizabeth—not a shadow. Nothing.

And Ginny suspected she wasn't just sick—especially with the Carrows' around. Growing suspicious, Ginny decided to snoop around; better safe than sorry. Anything was better than being hurt by the Carrows.

At first, it seemed no one knew. It seemed as though she had asked the entire school about Elizabeth. And it was just when she was about to lose hope, when one day, Lavender came up to Ginny. And she brought news about a certain blonde haired young girl.

"Ginny," Lavender whispered urgently, tugging at Ginny's arm across the table.

Glancing over, and spotting her friend's pale face, Ginny excused herself from her meal. Together, silently, they walked, and automatically, they reached the common room. Ginny gave the password to the portrait: Fiduciam.

Once she was sure no one was around to hear them, Ginny turned to Lavender.

"Elizabeth," she said, more of a statement than a question. Lavender's eyes confirmed what she was about to say.

She nodded, then spoke. "I know I told you I didn't know where she was," she spoke quickly, urgently. "But I heard something today." Ginny nodded, and gave her a hand gesture to indicate for her to continue.

"So, I had classes with the Carrows, and it was stupid and all that. But today, they he, Professor Carrow, ended class early. And you know that's weird; he never ends class before the bell. His sister ran through the door right after and they jumped into a deep conversation. So, you know, I slowed down my packing and went up to eavesdrop a little, and…" Lavender slumped and her normally bright brown eyes were dulled. "They've got her in a dungeon of sorts. I don't know where. I'm sorry."

She finished, and Ginny gave Lavender a tight hug. "Thank you, Lav," she mumbled into the other girl's shoulder, although she was immensely worried, not to mention raged. "You have done enough. I think finding information is very helpful."

Lavender looked pretty relieved, but then again, some worry was clear in her eyes. Then her face turned serious.

"Gin, you're not going to do anything… rash, aren't you? Think whatever you're gonna do through before, okay?"

"Yeah, I know," Ginny muttered, slightly ignoring Lavender's words. "Let's go back before we're late for class," she said, dismissing their small, yet important discussion.

A boy and a girl sat on the floor of the large, elaborate room, surrounded by shelves upon shelves of books, the contents inside unknown by the pair. But he knew. He knew about the books, about the information that they contained. And he wished he hadn't.

Severus knew that Albus has once read the books in the Room of Requirement; he was Albus bloody Dumbledore! Of course he had read them. But Severus, Severus never had thought, in the right of minds, that he would ever pick one up and sift through it. But oh, how he had, through utter, mistaken curiosity—and oh, how he had regretted that decision.

Knowledge was a valuable thing; Severus knew that. It could be used in many, many ways, for either good or bad. He had experienced it himself. And when something could be used for more than one objective, it becomes dangerous. Knowledge was dangerous. People would torture for it, or at times, more often than anyone wished, kill for it.

But what was the use of killing someone who knew what you wanted to know? Severus had pondered this question more than once, and had thought of the answer more than once.

But that was not what he here for today.

He was in the Room of Requirement because of Ginny Weasley and Neville Longbottom. Two foolish, yet brave imbeciles.

He had managed to overhear the Carrow siblings talking about some type of trap for the pair. What trap, was the question. Why he was even here was a question too—one that, begrudgingly, he knew the answer to.

Severus owed Molly, Minerva, and perhaps even Augusta. Molly had somehow, became the second mother he never had, for the short while he had met her. As much as he hated her fussing, a small part of him was glad. Someone cared for him. Sure, there was Dumbledore, but Dumbledore was a completely different matter. Molly didn't care if he was a Death Eater, she didn't care if he was any use to the Order. She saw him as a person, someone who needed care and love. He owed her big time. The best he could do was watch over her youngest child that was at Hogwarts.

Minerva, on the other hand… Severus didn't even know where to begin with her.

He owed Minerva his life.

She had been there for him when Dumbledore had not, when he had thought that all hope had been lost. She was there for him after those pleasant meetings and insisted that he ate enough. When she had been struck down by the High Inquisitor, he thought she had died. Minerva McGonagall had survived the impossible and Severus knew that it would take more than a few measly stunners to bring her down.

Severus knew that he was pushing the Transfiguration Professor to the brink, but he knew that it was necessary. Minerva was a publicly known Order member and if Severus Snape, the man who had killed the legendary Albus Dumbledore was treating her with care, it would look more than suspicious. He hoped that it would be over soon.

Hope, his mind scoffed back at him. Hope, what much is that going to do? He shoved that thought away. Hope would be the strongest thing he had with him.

Augusta taught him hope. She, liked him, was a level headed strict person. She didn't believe in miracles, she believed in working hard. Working hard would get you anywhere. Miracles could too, but it didn't take you as far. But somehow, Augusta had learned to hope somewhere along the way. And she passed it on. To Severus, to Neville.

He owed so many people in his life, and within this year, he thought, he was going to pay it back. He was going to change something. He was going to lessen the lives lost. He was going to hope, to love, and to feel. And he would start with getting the two recklessly stupid Gryffindors out of trouble as much as possible.

"I'm not doing it," Neville snapped. Throwing her arms up, Ginny snarled,

"Why! At least give me a reason!"

"You never give me a reason for your usual, hot-headed ideas, why should I have to?" Neville surged forwards, but caught himself and leaned away, crossing his arms.

"Why are you so ticked off about this? See this, the way you can't control your anger, is exactly why I wanted Logan to do this with me instead of you!"

"Oh, so it's me who can't control their anger?" Neville snapped out. "Have you even seen yourself?"

Hot-headed, Ginny started to respond, but Neville interrupted her. "OK, fine. Do what you want. I've told you this, and I'll tell you again. I don't care anymore."

And with that, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Oh, alright then. I don't need Neville this time. I'll show him, Ginny thought, anger overtaking her common sense. We'll see who's right, when I come back with Logan and Elizabeth, both utterly safe. Logan won't ditch me.

The next week was spent in a flurry of planning. Logan showed up every time, chiming in occasionally with a new precaution or idea. A plan was quickly formed.

Neville, Ginny noticed, was doing absolutely dandy. She had spotted him more than a couple times hanging around this girl, Hannah. They seemed to be perfectly content, which irritated Ginny to no end.

Perhaps out of bitterness, Ginny buried herself in planning even more, fine tuning and whatnot, anything she could do, she did.

It was a perfect plan, and, thought Ginny as she lay in her bed, unable to sleep: it would be followed through much sooner than it felt.

The bright, early morning sun shone through the windows of Ginny's dormitory, sprinkling out rays of sunlight. The glass of the windows separated the lines of light into intricate patterns, much like a delicately drawn work of art. The trees outside were a lush green, spring finally arriving after the bitter winter, and the sky was an endless blue.

Morning.

The day flew by, Ginny constantly going through the plan in her mind, dazing off. It really seemed nothing would go wrong; she had looked at every possible problem, and had composed multiple plans in case they would become present.

Logan met up right on time—midnight. He led Ginny into the Slytherin common room, and, as quiet as they could possibly be, tiptoed into the dungeon.

They were greeted with a whole new world.

They stepped into a room with complex, medieval time-like designs etched into the wooden floor. The room had no windows, save a small square one, riddled with thick iron bars. Through the imprisonment of the window, Ginny could see the silver crescent of the moon. Though small, it still shone bright, bringing some light into the very cramped room. The stone walls were caked with filth, and the air was pungent; Ginny automatically scrunched up her nose.

Then she saw her.

Tied up with heavy metal chains, her once-gorgeous mane of blonde hair now tangled and muddy, head down. Her clothes were tattered and torn, as if they had been ripped to shreds by some type of mysterious force. She had a bright orange butterfly clip in her hair, and it seemed to be the only thing that was untouched. It sparkled in the dim light of the night moon.

Logan made a choking noise in the back of his throat, and Ginny would've too, if she could even speak. She felt as though her mouth had been clamped shut by some type of magical restraint. It was as if she was staring at a corpse. Ginny could only hope that it wasn't.

They ran over, and Ginny let out a cry of relief as Elizabeth moaned and opened her eyes slowly. "Ginny?"

Gathering up the frail girl up in her arms, Ginny whispered into her hair, "Yes, it's me. Don't worry, we'll get you out of here."

She muttered Alohomora; the chains unlocked, strangely easily. Then, she ushered the girl back, then turned around to go after her.

"Let's go," Ginny said, turning to Logan. Her foot got snagged on a chain. She tugged on it, annoyed, to no avail. Ginny looked at Logan. "Help me."

But she was greeted with a strange sight.

Logan's face was twisted, as he blinked, and mumbled. "I can't." He turned away, eyes filled with anguish. Then, the pain in this eyes disappeared. A cold, hard look masked his face, making him look like a marble statue.

Ginny was flabbergasted. "What do you mean, you can't?"

"I think, I just think, it means that I can not help you take Elizabeth away, nor can I help you untangle yourself from whatever you have gotten caught in," Logan replied, his voice cold and a simpering grin on his face. Ginny looked at Logan, desperate in denial. Logan would not do this, this was not Logan. What? Why? How? She thought, her mind completely shocked.

Ginny's fists shook, and she forced herself to stay calm.

"How could you?" Ginny seethed, turning on Logan. A finger was pointed at him, jabbing him in the chest. "I trusted you! I refused for Neville to come along!" She let out a bitter, scornful laugh. "When I this time, I was wary of him, when it should've been you. Logan, you backstabbing bastard. Words can't express how much I hate you."

She watched, panting, as Logan, still head down, cried. Silent tears running down his face, shivering shoulders. She didn't care, and she never will again.

With a quivering breath, Logan turned, and raised a shaking arm. He said a word, barely above a whisper.

The chains that had once bound Elizabeth wrapped around her limbs, starting with the one her foot had "accidentally" snagged on. Ginny did not yell or thrash of any sort—there was no point. Logan slowly walked closer, slipping a quivering hand down her pocket, and Ginny was frozen in shock. But he only pulled out her wand, and didn't say anything.

He fingered it, as if he was inspecting the wood, and slowly slipped it down his own robe pocket. Then, he slowly backed away from Ginny and turned his back on her, walking to the door. However, right before the door closed, a note fluttered down onto the ground. Ginny didn't pick it up, nor could she.

He left, and Ginny was alone, her only accompaniment being the lingering scent of defeat and the utter despair of betrayal.

Eyes stinging with tears, Logan ran into an empty classroom and collapsed onto a desk. His mask fell away, leaving a painful, heartbroken expression. He took out Ginny's wand and twirled it around in his hand. Red sparks came off the end and Logan could tell it was powerful magic.

Wiping his eyes, Logan sunk down to the floor and shivered, even though it was spring. He resisted the overwhelming urge to go back for Ginny—he couldn't. Not after what Rabastan said.

How did he know?

Well, it's almost certain he was the capturer.

He hated it—having to choose. He hated having to pick—his family or his friends.

Well, friend would be more accurate.

He hated this so called choice. They say that to have a choice, a pick, was a beauty, a blessing, a gift.

He hated it. Despised it.

I need to go back. Ginny—a wave of fresh tears threatened to spill over.

No! a louder, more rational voice yelled. Your family, or her—remember what Rabastan said!

But, Ginny…

It's already done. Your family's safe. Besides, she hates you now.

And with that thought, the tears overflowed, and Logan sat there, shivering, silent, sobbing.

Stupid.

Stupid.

The word echoed in Ginny's mind, filling up its space, as she drew her knees close, head in her arms.

Stupid.

She should've known. How was she so blind, so completely, utterly, blind, to what he had to be planning? How did she not see? How?

Stupid.

Neville was right. Sooner or later, it was going to all blow up in her face. No, It did more than blow up in her face. It nearly killed her. She should've listened. Why didn't she? Even Rabastan thought so.

Eyes filling with tears, Ginny roughly wiped them away, only to have the chains bound around her wrists cut roughly into her face. She tried to even out her breathing and clear her mind. But even still, it continued. The endlessly streaming thought.

Stupid.

Stupid.

Stupid.

How long, she did not know.

How long had she been sitting there, crying her heart out? How long was it, since the betrayal? Ginny couldn't remember; her thoughts were blurred with tears, along with her vision. Every time she stopped crying, tried to do something, the memories would hit her like a wave. A wave, of everything that has happened, all building up to this.

Luna, Logan, Neville, Harry—it was inescapable, and the tide had finally caught up to her. Holding everything in was worse, much worse, than having the emotions spill out, even with her pride. If only emotions didn't exist! If only she couldn't feel things, wouldn't that make things easier?

No, Ginny, it wouldn't! the tiny voice in her head argued back. And it was right. If she didn't feel, if she didn't love, she would've been dead ages ago.

Then something changed.

Ginny felt a presence. When she looked up, no one was there. She wanted to do something, to fight, cry for help, anything—but she did nothing, simply lay her head back down, and remained silent. It was as if she had lost her energy, her motivation.

Slowly, the figure began to take image, perhaps stripping away its charm.

And Ginny looked up, expecting Rabastan, The Carrows, hell, even Snape—but she was met with a person she never thought she would see.

"Neville?"

"Hey," Neville responded lightly, expression unreadable. He bent down, and kneeled besides Ginny.

"You… You found me."

With a small, crooked smile, Neville responded. "With the help of Lavender, and a very lucky Gryffindor you saved, yes."

Then he fell silent, and Ginny did not feel the need to speak. Perhaps, she feared shattering the fragile bond they shared this moment. It may be gone soon, her mind warned. Treasure it. She had not taken anything for granted as much as she did Neville, and she regretted it terribly.

He worked at Ginny's restraints almost feverishly. Ginny knew it was useless, told Neville the exact thing, but he simply gave Ginny a knowing look, and continued.

Her chains fell away, and Ginny gaped, wringing out her sore wrists. "But how—"

"I had help. Some people know this dungeon better than anybody. And, surprisingly, Lavender somehow knew a lot, as well," Neville answered, and helped Ginny up. "Come on."

As they walked out of the dungeons, Ginny felt a slight, non-corporeal veil cover them. A charm.

Finally, she couldn't stand it. "Neville," she blurted out, and it seemed he knew it was coming, as he turned, stopped walking, leaned against a wall, and stared.

"Neville, I'm so sorry. I should've trusted you, I swear, I didn't know, I was stupid, you're right, Logan shouldn't be trusted, I—" Neville held up a hand, and Ginny stopped abruptly, staring at him.

He smiled, maybe with a tinge of scorn, and Ginny's heart was heavy. "Ginny, you can't do this." He deadpanned. "Hindsight is a very, very dangerous thing. If you dwell on it, it's going to destroy your mind. It happened. It is the past, and we are living in the present." He shrugged. "Anyways, I'm just saying, you should've been more careful. That was it. And, I have to admit, I was hotheaded. Maybe a bit jealous—friend to friend," he clarified, and Ginny smiled, feeling relieved. "That's it. Just be more careful."

"I know," Ginny breathed out. "I know, and I've learned my lesson."

Neville's smile turned more sincere. He raised a hand, and they exchanged a thumbs-up, both smiling as if sharing an inside joke.

"Good. Now," he tilted his head. "Let's go."

Author's Note:

Thank you so much for reading! Please review, I will hopefully update by next week, or the week after. There's a little plot twist for you!

-Zigostia