Eighteen: From the depths

The agitated discussions in the Great Hall that morning told Ginny the assault on Azkaban must have made the Prophet. Briefly, a wave of panic hit her when she saw Dumbledore was absent, but then she told herself that surely there would be a much greater uproar if something had befallen him. Demelza tossed her a copy the second she sat down at the table. She could feel several eyes on her as she unfolded it.

MINISTRY WARDS OF AZKABAN ATTACK

Underneath it was a picture of Azkaban, its tall tower shrouded in mist and figures on brooms, lightning flashing behind it.

Optimistic as the headline was, she didn't doubt it had been Dumbledore first and foremost who had defeated the assailants. Worse, as she kept reading it soon turned out to be a partial success at best. Azkaban still stood, but several Death Eaters had been liberated, freed from its depths. And it included five names she knew all too well. Suddenly, Malfoy's name appeared at number three in the most wanted list the Prophet published each day, with two spots below him Rookwood, and Rabastan Lestrange rounding out the top ten. Nott and Jugson didn't even warrant a placement, which said more about the other people on the list than about them. Mulciber's name still lingered though; apparently, Sirius' activities hadn't reached everyone yet.

She just hoped that any of the Order who had been there had survived. The Prophet forewent any lists of the fallen, speaking only of a few brave Aurors who had died doing their duty. The casualties probably had been more numerous, but that did not fit the narrative the Ministry was spreading. While Scrimgeour faced the reality of Voldemort's return, he had taken a page from Fudge's playbook in downplaying the severity of the situation.

But regardless of the dead, all she could focus on was the most prominent of the escapees. Lucius Malfoy.

After Ron's stunner almost takes him out, Malfoy treats him with more respect. Grudgingly given or not, a determined grimace sets on his face and his taunting ceases. His wand becomes a blur as he launches into a spell chain, every curse nastier than the last one. Ron is slowly pushed back, every parry and dodge a fraction slower than its predecessor.

Malfoy sends a cloud of conjured daggers towards her brother and he bats them all aside with an overpowered Ventus. One nicks his arm, but it doesn't stop him from rolling out of the way of the blazing ball of fire that rolls over the benches. She can tell he wants to return fire, but Malfoy doesn't leave him an opening, a ghostly wolf on the heels of the fireball. Ron dispels it. He doesn't dispel the burst of lightning that follows.

It hits him straight in the chest with a horrible crackling sound. Ron's whole body stiffens and the smell of burnt flesh wafts over her. He collapses like a doll whose strings have been cut. She can hear Hermione scream with her, a scream gradually morphing into a screeched curse that almost takes Rookwood's head clean off. Harry just pales and keeps duelling Bellatrix, a set in his jaw.

They're going to die in here.

Her eyes glided over the Slytherin table, for once not looking for Astoria, but Malfoy. But instead of celebrating the escape of his father, he sits alone at the far end, mechanically eating his porridge. Astoria's words came back to her. Perhaps he truly hated what had happened. Perhaps the words 'my father will hear about this' had turned from idle boasting into a threat he no longer wanted to carry through.

Or he could have heard about Horcruxes as well. The mad grasp for immortality made her sick to the stomach. The diary had to have been one and it had come from Lucius Malfoy. Ginny wondered if there were more, and if so, how Wizarding Britain would ever be free from Voldemort. Would he keep looming over them, a dark spectre always one ritual away? Harry had never told her what had happened in the Graveyard. All she'd learned from Ron and Hermione was that it had been awful. That she could believe, the image of Cedric's body had been imprinted on all students. Had a Horcrux been at the source of it all?

She headed for the Room of Requirement alone that Saturday morning, the familiar dummies watching her with what she thought was a sense of impending doom. She'd begun going to the Room of Requirement more often, shrouded in the cloak until she was inside and alone with her targets. She'd duck, dive and cast spells until she could barely stand. Today Ginny vowed to keep going until she could no longer stand.

Lucius Malfoy was free. The one who had killed her brother as she could only watch. She'd felt helpless then. She didn't feel helpless when she practiced and flicked spells at dummies. Maybe, if she practiced enough, she wouldn't feel helpless either when she faced him again.

Spells that whispered as they sailed through the air burst forth from her wand. Dumbledore could show her as much memories as he wanted, this struck her as more useful. This would help her survive the Death Eaters, even Malfoy and Rookwood.

When the last spell left her mouth, she collapsed to the ground, shaking. All her muscles burned and she felt empty, like she'd wrung the last drop of magic out of her. The room looked like a battlefield, angry scars carved into the walls, the dummies shattered, one reduced to nothing but sand. Would this be enough to survive?

"I thought you'd be here," Astoria said, standing at the edge of the room.

Ginny flinched. For how long had her friend been there? She didn't know. All she could remember were the memories and the spells that she'd cast. Merlin, the spells. What would Astoria think of her? But if it had shocked her friend, she didn't show it. Instead, she tossed a blanket over her and sat down next to her, handing her a glass of water. Ginny drank from it greedily.

"The Prophet claims Malfoy and Rookwood killed Ron and Hermione," Astoria said after a while.

"That's true. I don't know how they found out, but it's true. I saw them do it and love it," she coughed, choking on too much water. Astoria slapped her on the back until her breathing returned to normal.

"Is that why you're in here?"

She thought of Horcruxes and whispers.

"Partially," she admitted.

"The meeting with Dumbledore?" Astoria asked. "What did he want?"

"To show me memories," she said bitterly. "Of Voldemort's past."

"His past? Why?"

"I don't know. I think he's working towards something." Horcruxes. "There were more memories but then he was called away to help defend Azkaban. I guess it'll make more sense at the next meeting. I hope," she said.

"Dumbledore has a strange way of fighting a war," Astoria said. "He and Scrimgeour refuse to communicate from what I've heard."

"The Order always fought independently."

"The real Dumbledore's Army. And instead of taking the fight to You-Know-Who, he just keeps Apparating all over Britain to put out fires large and small."

"I don't get it either," Ginny said.

"Small wonder you're in here practicing," Astoria said with a sweeping gesture that encompassed the room. "Not quite D.A. material I'd say."

"Yeah, these are spells I saw the Order of the Phoenix use. And Death Eaters," she admitted. Whatever accusations she'd been expecting didn't come. Instead, Astoria stared off into the distance

"Do you think you can teach them to me? Maybe I'll have more luck with them than with the Patronus charm."

"Sure. But I thought you wouldn't approve of such spells," she said. Astoria sighed.

"Because of what happened with Nott?"

"Yeah," Ginny acknowledged. Astoria looked like she wanted to hit Ginny for a moment and then sighed.

"Is that why you kept sneaking off to practice on your own? Ginny, I didn't approve of you using such spells on fellow students. But this? This is different," she said. "We're fighting a war and I'm a Slytherin. That means I want to win. And this looks like something that might help."

Ginny let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding. Apparently, she had misjudged her friend. Even if Astoria didn't seem as hungry for these spells as Demelza, she at least saw the point of them. Then again, she didn't know just how much Astoria had seen. Had she truly seen the worst spells? The ones she'd reconstructed from memory? The ones wielded by Malfoy, Rookwood and Dolohov?

"What was that flashing light you used at the end? I still got spots dancing in front of my eyes," Astoria said.

"Oh, the Sunflash spell," Ginny said, visibly relieved Astoria had asked after that one. "Bill actually taught me it. He stumbled across it while Curse-Breaking. Wait, I'll show you," she said, pushing herself upright. Her muscles protested, but she didn't fall back down. "You form a circle in the air, then a downward slash and you just yell 'Sol Invictus'. Great for blinding your opponent."

"I noticed," Astoria remarked drily, before following Ginny's instructions. Ginny shielded her eyes with her hand, but even then the bright flare left her blinded when what was like the light of a thousand suns lit up the room.

"Merlin, I thought it'd at least not blind the caster," Astoria swore as she rubbed her eyes.

"Yeah, I probably should have warned you about that. But look at you, you got it down in one. Great job, Tori," she said, slapping her friend on the back. The room still glowed with the intensity of the flare.

"It almost makes up for my continued failures with the Patronus. Can't we cover this in the D.A.?"

"I'm not sure if twenty students trying this spell at once would be good for the eyes."

"Fair," Astoria admitted, repeating the wand movement as she committed it to memory. "So, memories of Voldemort. Like, from the last war?"

"Before. Dumbledore's been digging into his past."

"And how will that help?"

"My thoughts exactly, Tori. I guess we'll just have trust him."

"Hmm," Astoria said, putting more scepticism in it than Ginny had considered possible for a single syllable. "I wonder why he doesn't confront You-Know-Who though. He's the only one who can defeat him and if You-Know-Who falls, the war's over."

"And if Dumbledore loses, there's nothing staying his hand," Ginny said. "I saw them duel before. I'm not sure who would win," she admitted.

"Right, you did. Any spells you picked up there?"

"Nothing I could even remotely understand," she said.

It wasn't as if she'd forgotten. The memories were as vivid as the rest, but whenever she tried to mimic their displays, she just fell short. Perhaps theirs were spells too complex for regular witches and wizards. They had gone further than any who became before.

You don't stand a chance, Tom said, voice exultant.

"Come, let's go," Astoria said, pulling her along. "If you're late for class, Snape will have your head."

If Snape had any feelings about the Azkaban break-out, he kept them to himself. Instead he just drilled them relentlessly on curses and counter-curses.

"The prophecy, Potter. The prophecy for a counter-curse."

Maybe Malfoy would get to utter those words again now that he was free. It made her wish the Dementors had kissed him.

At least Snape was less terrifying than usual, exhaustion having taken the place of his usual sneer. It made her wonder if he'd been at Azkaban as well last night, and for which side. She wondered why he hadn't warned them. It struck her like something a spy definitely should have picked up on. But Dumbledore had been just as surprised as she'd been; perhaps Voldemort kept his cards close to his chest. Or perhaps Snape wasn't quite on their side after all. It was easy to believe he was a Death Eater, especially when he ridiculed her.

"How do you ever expect to do any magic that way, Miss Weasley? A ghoul has better enunciation and I have seen less sloppy wand form from koalas. Did your brain get damaged as well?"

"Sorry Professor," she shrugged. Compared to his usual tirades, this really wasn't half bad. Uninspired really.

"Don't be sorry. Be better, Weasley," he snarled before lecturing Creevey on his equally terrible wand form. Worse really, a koala would make for a better wizard.

Would her family have been there as well, tonight? Would they have had to watch as Lucius Malfoy escaped? She hoped they hadn't been there. She hoped they'd all spent the night safely tucked in bed. She doubted it though. What little she'd gleaned from their carefully censored letters, they were all in the thick of it. Every time an owl headed her way, she was afraid it'd be carrying terrible news. But so far, there had only been vague tales of near-misses – mostly from Bill and Charlie – and reassurances – from the rest, especially mum and Percy – that they were being cautious.

It chafed being stuck here. Sure, she was safe. Sure, she was leading the D.A. But the real war was being fought out there, while she went over Voldemort's childhood and spent each day worrying she'd lost another brother. It made her wonder what Harry would have done.