Author's note: Welcome! This story is complete with 13 chapters. If you prefer ao3, this work is also there under the same title. This is a slow burn romance/adventure so be patient - the setup will make sense at the end!

Chapter 1: Ninth Floor

Ashtead, England, March 2001

Harry ducked behind a mossy tree, a prism of spells illuminating the branches on the forest floor. He had lost track of Ron, finally earning a moment to realize that they were thoroughly outnumbered in this confrontation. Pulling up memories of his recent beachside vacation with Ginny, he sent a Patronus to headquarters, rushing the message as his stag galloped around him. "Backup needed in Ashtead. Multiple targets, active fire."

A report had arrived of a suspicious wizard in Ashtead, a quaint Muggle village just outside London. A simple two-man assignment — Harry and Ron had jumped at the chance to execute their first mission together as recent Auror graduates.

They had arrived invisibly near a sickly old man — no doubt wrapped in dozens of glamours — sitting on a park bench, curled up over a wand in his lap. The two of them had followed the standard practice, setting up Anti-Apparition wards and observing the man silently for about ten minutes.

Absorbed in his own lap, the man rocked back and forth from time to time as if trying to ease pain in his joints. His movements were stiff and jerky as if he hadn't moved in a while, and he never once looked up. Harry and Ron eventually nodded to each other and revealed themselves.

The man had grunted noncommittally when he lifted his head to see the two Aurors approaching with their wands out. Then, everything had gone to hell.

A jet of blue light hurtled toward Harry, and he cast a powerful Protego on instinct, covering both himself and Ron. Ron shot a Stunner at the man, but the man had already moved away. Blinking away his surprise, Harry disillusioned himself and moved to the left as Ron broke away to the right. That was when he heard the first Avada Kedavra roaring from a voice that could not have belonged to the withering old man. Harry dropped to the ground, his palms sweating against the mulch. He should've known at that moment to send his Patronus out for backup, but every fiber of his body railed against the thought.

"Harry Potter!" another voice yelled in a distinct soprano. Harry didn't see anyone — they must have disillusioned themselves as well. Harry spun a locator spell on Ron before performing a silent Homenum Revelio, which failed to identify any of the others in the perimeter.

But there were two voices. And the old man. Why aren't they registering?

That should have been the second hint to call for backup.

"Avada Kedavra!" A green jet of light crashed into the tree next to Harry, and Harry was up in the same second.

"Stupefy!" he yelled, aiming at the source of the light. Someone was running away, judging by the rustling leaves. Harry took another shot. "Incarcerous!"

Nothing. Harry swore under his breath. His spell had been exactly on target. He located Ron and ran to reunite with him.

"It's me," he whispered as he approached an invisible Ron.

"How many do they have?" Ron whispered back.

"Three."

"I think more."

"How the hell…"

"I only detected you with Revelio. They're not registering — "

A white jet pulsed through the air, and Harry and Ron dropped to the ground simultaneously as it made contact with a low branch. The branch arched to the ground with a sickening crack.

"I'll set up a lure! Go left!" Harry told Ron, and they set off in opposite directions.

As Harry wrangled a complex web of enchantments, an exchange of fire caught his attention.

Shite.

It looked like at least three-on-one, judging from the imbalance of spellfire. Abandoning the lure, he blasted long-range spells from his position, approaching the exchange. His frown turned into disbelief as magic continued pulsing through the air without missing a beat. He'd never missed so many targets — they felt impervious, completely immune to the spells shooting out his wand. There was no shield in sight, no spells bouncing back. Who are these people?

That was when he finally called his Patronus. But behind that giant magnolia tree, in a second so long it could have swallowed him whole, he heard another loud Avada Kedavra and the unmistakable groan of a man collapsing and finally, a maniacal, inhuman holler. "Harry Potter is dead!"

No, no, no.

Harry sprung back into action, firing off ten silent, continuous Stunners toward the voice. He caught the trail of the shadowless targets running away, but none of his spells made contact. What was happening? His Apparition tracker buzzed, alerting him of five newcomers just outside the perimeter. His backups had arrived.

Harry and his fellow Aurors scanned the entire perimeter inside and out, and they found nothing. No one.

No one except Ron, twisted on the ground among pale, withered magnolias, wand arm still extended in a fighting stance, shock etched across his face. His disillusionment charm had slowly worn off as the magic had left his body.

London, England, August 2001

Ginny paced around the cobblestone street, barely aware of the people rushing around her as the hour crept toward four. One hundred and sixty-four days had gone by since the attack.

She'd believed all the violence and death would end after the Battle of Hogwarts, after Harry struck Voldemort down with his own killing curse. Of course, she was proven wrong when a killing curse meant for Harry Potter took out his Auror partner instead.

A special-edition Daily Prophet was delivered mere minutes after the attack. She had immediately Apparated to The Burrow, shaking so badly that she had nearly splinched her arm. Ron is dead. Her mum had dropped the pot she was holding and couldn't string together a sentence for the rest of the day, only managing to repeat not my Ron, not my Ron until Harry arrived, grimly confirming the events. Only Harry's eyes had hinted at a barely-restrained storm of emotions before he left abruptly with a curt apology. Arthur had let out a sound of anguish so terrible that Ginny could still feel it scraping through her core. It had been one hundred and sixty-four days.

It had been one hundred and sixty-four days since a hard desire for revenge had anchored itself in the pit of Ginny's stomach. She had quietly scheduled meetings with Aurors and mind healers to find answers, but they had been quite useless.

Today will be different, she told herself.

At 3:58, she took several deep breaths, reminded herself not to fidget, and entered the telephone booth to dial into the Ministry. Her ears popped as the ground below her dipped and daylight disappeared, and before she had time to orient herself, she was dropped into the cavernous Atrium of the Ministry of Magic.

It was bustling with activity, as expected for a Tuesday afternoon. Warm afternoon light danced on Ministry employees as they strode quickly across the floor, some chatting, some rushing to their last meeting before going home for the day. The scene was too familiar — she had come to visit Harry in the Ministry often. They had shared countless tender moments in his little office as she napped in the big blue armchair next to him, waking up to a kiss on her head. It had all been so sweet.

She shook her head. That was before the attack, back when the exaltation of victory had drenched everyone in a sense of false peace. That was before her first possession-like episode at home, Ron's attack, the broom fall, the fixation.

That was before the breakup, before Harry burned his Auror uniform and uprooted his life, before Ginny learned that death could glue people together and just as easily wrench them apart.

The numbers above the lift blinked rhythmically: fourth floor, fifth floor, sixth, seventh. Before the lift could arrive, Ginny felt a tap on her shoulder.

"Are you Ginny Weas — oh! It is you!"

A rather stout woman with blonde hair and rectangular glasses stared up at her.

"I'm Natalia, I'm an assistant to the Department of Mysteries. You're going to need a special escort for the ninth floor," she said, holding up her badge and motioning Ginny into the lift.

Ginny nodded, giving her thanks. Security had been tightened. Understandable, given that Ron's attacker could have as much reason as she did to seek out the Unspeakables. The tingle of strong wards flickered across her fingertips as she watched Natalia's badge flash blue, then white, then green. The lift doors opened to a dark corridor lined with shiny black tiles, and Ginny tried not to think about the last time she was here.

The click-clack of Natalia's kitten heels echoed through the hallway as she led Ginny into an unforgettable chamber: the Brain Room. It felt even more insidious than when she encountered it as a fourth year, perhaps because the adrenaline wasn't pumping through her veins as it had been then. At least a dozen tall cylindrical tanks surrounded her in the dimly lit room, holding dozens of brains suspended in a viscous green fluid. They floated around lazily, as if still attached to invisible owners drifting through the illuminated liquid. She shuddered and attached her eyes to Natalia's heels.

"Right on time!" Natalia chirped.

Her head shot up, catching sight of a man who had appeared from the back of the dim room. He cut an imposing figure, standing next to Natalia in an unbuttoned gray robe, and there was a hint of familiarity about his features that Ginny couldn't quite place.

Natalia motioned toward him. "Ginny, this is Julien Jordan, our Mind Specialist. You can refer to him as M outside the department. Julien, this is Ginny Weasley."

"Thanks for agreeing to meet with me, Mr. Jordan," Ginny said, extending her hand and hiding the surprise from her face.

She had carried a rather stereotypical assumption of what the Unspeakable would look like — large, dramatic robes, Dumbledore-esque beard — but the man in front of her looked like he could have just sauntered out of a bar. His jawline held a whisper of a five o-clock shadow, and high, well-defined cheekbones framed his face. His eyes were striking against his dark skin, studying Ginny with an easy intensity. They crinkled at the corners as he reached out in a firm handshake.

"Just Julien is fine. Pleased to meet you."

"Well, I'll leave you two to it," Natalia said. She grinned sneakily at him. "I like her. Don't scare her away."

"That's not my intention." Julien's face held a whisper of amusement as he snapped to his right. "Please, Ginny. Come in."

A slight shimmer appeared around the nearest brain tank and she hesitated only in the slightest before sticking her left foot through. It entered cleanly, and she suddenly found herself bathed in light.

Blinking a few times, she took in a spacious, warm office with a mahogany desk and stacks of parchment piled high, almost to eye-level. One wall held a charmed window that peeked out into the Atrium from above and the opposing side held a real window, glowing from the green fluorescence of the brain tank.

Julien came in behind her, sealing the shimmering entrance. "Surprised?"

"A little. I mean, this is… nice," Ginny replied, looking up to face the man. In close proximity, she realized how tall the Unspeakable was — more than a head above her — and how piercing his gaze was. Like he was studying her, analyzing her with every casual glance.

"Glad you like it. Make yourself at home," Julien said, making his way to his desk and shrugging off his robe. "So, I received a note from Healer Morrison about you."

"Yes. I've been having these… episodes for a few months," Ginny said. Julien gestured for her to continue. "Basically, I feel a random surge of magical energy, and then lose consciousness. When I wake up, I'm in the same place and I haven't done anything. It feels like my mind is just forced out of my body."

Julien didn't reply immediately, instead rolling up his shirtsleeves and grabbing a quill. Ginny found her eyes fascinated by every gesture he made, her gaze automatically following his deft, precise movements.

Stop it, Ginny. Don't embarrass yourself by gawking at the Unspeakable.

Ginny aimed a few choice words at her distracted mind, but fortunately Julien hadn't seemed to notice, absorbed in jotting down notes.

"I can't say I've heard of those symptoms before," he said after a pause. He looked up at Ginny with a wry smile. "But I'm not surprised you're the one experiencing a rare phenomenon. I wondered long ago if I'd ever meet you, Miss Ginevra Weasley."

Each syllable of her name was precise, sharp. Ginny tilted her head, curiosity piqued.

"Why?"

"Your case is a special one. First year Hogwarts student possessed by Tom Riddle himself. One of the very few horcrux possessions known to have happened in history. If we had a textbook for my profession, you would be in it."

Ginny huffed out a laugh. "Aren't I lucky?"

Julien continued prodding Ginny for information on her symptoms. Does anything trigger the episodes? Has it happened at night? Is it similar to the possession you felt at Hogwarts?

No, nothing in particular triggered them. No, they'd never happened at night. Yes, the magical rush of an episode felt similar to her second-year possession, but instead of waking up to blood on her hands, she woke up in the same place with a pounding headache, having done nothing. Julien kept up the barrage of questions, jotting down everything she said.

Finally, a pause in the questions meant Ginny could present the notion itching in the back of her throat.

"On the day before Ron's attack, I had an episode for three hours. It was my first episode," she said, watching closely for Julien's reaction. "I don't know for sure — but I feel like it might've had something to do with his attackers. It's too much of a coincidence to ignore."

"Interesting," Julien murmured as he finished scribbling on the parchment. He looked up, his face in a frown of concentration, his eyes searching the wall behind Ginny. "Your intuition is likely correct."

"What do you mean?"

"You knew this was similar to a possession and you knew that the episode before Ron's attack wasn't just a coincidence. And," Julien's brown eyes held a pointed gaze, pinning Ginny to his words. "You know that Tom Riddle's diary has something to do with this. Somehow, it is still in commission, being used remotely, and it was used to attack your brother."

Ginny flinched, even though his words were exactly what she'd hoped he would say.

Had he read her mind? How had he come to that conclusion so quickly? The Aurors had dismissed the possibility when she had brought it up, claiming that a horcrux could not be reinstated like a broom after a tune-up.

"Do you know where the diary is?" she asked.

Julien sighed. "I was going to ask you the same question. I heard it was stolen from the Chamber of Secrets during the war, but I have no clue of its movements since." He looked deep in thought, leaning up against the desk. "I will have to look into more files on mind control by inanimate objects, but it is entirely possible that the diary was infused with elements of mind magic in addition to soul magic."

"So it could be broken as a horcrux but still working as a… mind control object?"

"Mhm," Julien murmured. "A powerful vessel can be used to harness multiple types of magic. And we can test that theory."

"How?"

"Through you."

"What should I do?" Ginny asked, leaning forward.

"You will need to learn mind magic," he said. "Healer Morrison recommended that. Occlumency could give you more control against your episodes. I can teach you if you're open to it."

"Really?" Ginny exclaimed. "Yes, I'd want to learn!"

"I want to be clear. It will take time and considerable effort from you."

"I understand. Absolutely," Ginny said, without a second of hesitation. She'd been running around for months, looking for some direction to search in, praying for something to do. "How do we start?"

"In a way, we've already started," Julien replied, pressing his hands together on the desk. "Legilimency can be used covertly. Yes, I did skim your mind to see whether you had considered the diary connection. Even before that, when we first met, I glanced at your thoughts. You were wondering if I looked like your schoolmate Lee Jordan. Next time, I'll expect you to keep me out as soon as you see me."

Ginny's heart began to race but she stifled her surprise, pushing a strand of hair out of her face. He was an exceptionally strong Legilimens, if he had scanned her mind without her noticing his presence. Dumbledore had been able to do that, but she hadn't heard of many others with the ability.

"I guess I'll have to work on blocking you out," Ginny said, her voice deliberately light, before cocking her head to the side. "So, are you related to Lee?"

"He's my brother," Julien replied with a small nod. Ginny barely had time to show her surprise before he moved on. "I'll try something different now. The most nefarious kind of mind magic can actually make you do things you don't want to. This works best on untrained or unprepared minds, so I'll use it to test your natural defenses."

Julien charmed the wall behind him into a chalkboard, standing up to explain the basics of mind magic. As he diagrammed the relationship between Occlumency and Legilimency and the possibilities they held, Ginny realized she had lived her life oblivious to the entire field of study.

Legilimency's Dark, Harry had once remarked. I don't know why it isn't banned by the Ministry.

But from Julien's explanation, mind magic wasn't just a Dark spell, like the Unforgivables. It was a whole other branch of magic — an entirely new dimension that couldn't be banned like Crucio. It was a mostly uncharted branch of magic — while spellwork was easy to demonstrate, the deeply internal nature of the mind arts prevented them from being easily taught and understood.

"Plus, its usage by Voldemort in the war and Dark connotations don't do it many favors in the eyes of the magical community," Julien said.

He took a pause in his overview then, turning to face Ginny. "So, you can prepare yourself however you want. I'll ask you a question and press you to answer it, and you try to resist."

Ginny arched her eyebrows. "Just making me answer a question? Can't Veritaserum do the same?"

"You'll feel the difference, I assure you," Julien said drily.

His eyes locked on Ginny's and she squeezed them shut, trying to calm the anxiety in her head.

A few seconds later, she nodded, and immediately felt an uncomfortable tugging at her temples. She opened her eyes and met Julien's in a question, then immediately tried to look away, sensing a dangerous pull from his gaze. But she couldn't tear her eyes from him — they felt magnetized, stuck in place. In fact, she couldn't even blink. Her eyes watered in panic, and she tried desperately to move her eyes to the side, then tried turning her head, then her shoulders, then her feet. But her eyes remained glued to Julien's, utterly out of her control.

"Who do you believe killed Ron?" Julien asked.

Say it. The command echoed in her consciousness.

"I don't know," Ginny whispered, strain in her voice.

Julien wasn't satisfied with that, and she felt his response as a tightening in her head. Her breathing labored as she stared into his face, faint crinkles appearing on his forehead as he concentrated.

Say something else. What have you found so far? The command landed in her mind as easily as I'm hungry or I'm going to bed and she found herself powerless against the pull.

"I don't know! Some Death Eater?"

Which Death Eater?

"I have no idea," Ginny ground out, pressing together her lips defiantly. Even though her words were true, she could feel the Legilimency preying upon her own memories, excavating deeply buried emotions and forcing them out. A fear bubbled in her gut that Julien latched onto immediately.

What are you afraid to say? Who's to blame?

Ginny tried to resist opening her mouth, but her mind had been turned on itself.

"Ron himself! And Harry! Both of them didn't even call for help until it was too late," she wheezed out, words mingling in a single breath.

Julien blinked as if he wasn't expecting her to say that. He released the Legilimency and Ginny's stirrings of fear turned immediately to shock.

"Why… why did I say that?"

"Legilimency can force you to say anything," Julien said, even though Ginny already knew.

"But I don't think that," Ginny insisted, her voice brittle.

Julien watched her closely with something between concern and skepticism.

He dug up something real and you both know it.

A sudden wave of disappointment made her cheeks flame red — she'd worked hard trying to absolve the two of them in her mind. It wasn't an easy task when Harry still blamed himself, beat himself up over and over, reduced himself to a shell of the person he was before. She couldn't allow the feeling to infiltrate her own mind, not when being stuck in the past meant drowning in it.

Ginny sighed, balling her hands into fists as she struggled to manage the overwhelming emotion.

Remember why you're here. To find the real people to blame.

"Sorry. I just… I wasn't expecting to say that," Ginny said, leaning back against the chair sheepishly.

Julien nodded. "Mind magic is intrusive. It can bring up deeply buried thoughts, things we might not want to believe anymore."

He rose from his seat, running through an explanation of her natural defenses he had cracked. He didn't mention her uncomfortable outburst and the emotions he had uncovered. Instead, he chose to focus on the concepts at a detached level, Ginny grateful for the small mercy.

By the time Julien's clock chimed the hour, Ginny felt like she had learned enough obscure mind magic to become an Unspeakable herself. Julien flicked his wand to expose a bookcase behind him, browsing through a few titles before selecting a gold-embossed book titled Practical Mind Magics.

"You have a strong natural resistance," he said. "But we'll have to train rigorously, as you don't have the liberty of time. There are a thousand and one ways to exploit the mind, and you'll need to master a few."