Last time...

"Please, just let me see her!" Ginny cried. "It's all my fault!"

"That's right, it's all your fault." Montague growled. "Pomfrey said she might never walk again, because of you!"

"That's why I need to see her, to apologize!" Ginny insisted, tears running down her face. Practically all of the Slytherin team guarded the door to the hospital wing, barring her entry. It felt like she'd been trying for hours.

Gryffindor had won the match, but it didn't feel like a win. Her friend was injured because of her, and everyone was mad in some way about it. She couldn't even see her to apologize! She hadn't wanted to hurt her friend, having only wanted to stop the snitch from being caught. Everything was such a mess!

"What's going on here?" Came Ron's voice as he shoved his way to the front of the crowd that waited.

Hermione stormed up with him, and demanded. "Why aren't you letting her through?"

"She's the one who injured her!" Montague repeated.

"It's not like she meant to!" Ron countered. "She's her friend too!"

"I think you should let her in." Malfoy's voice cut through the yelling, quiet and calm. "Don't make me go above your head on this, Montague, and no I'm not talking about going to my father."

"What are you even-"

"Do you think she'd want us airing this?" Luna asked, because she'd been standing with Ginny in silent support this whole time.

"It's either that, or call her brother. Which do you think is faster?" Draco pointed out, pinning the girl with a look, not that Luna seemed to mind.

As one, Hermione, Draco, Ron, and Luna raised their right arms.

"Before you go thinking something you shouldn't, we're Hera's shield-brethren, not her followers. She has this tattoo as well." Hermione snapped, before there could be any unrest in Slytherin House. "By rite of magic, we can act as family, and we say Ginny can go in. She wouldn't have held any anger towards one of you had you done something like this to her when she was on the Gryffindor House team, and she wouldn't want you to hold onto your anger at Ginny now."

Chapter 75

"…Hey." Hera smiled up at them from the bed. "That was quite a lot of yelling I heard out there."

"Yes, well…We may have outed ourselves as your shield-brethren in order to get Ginny in to see you." Hermione sniffed.

"That was never something to hide, Hermione." Hera replied with a soft smile, which seemed to relax something in her shield-brethren, but then she turns her head slightly to see Ginny has been silently crying this entire time. "Hey, none of that now. It wasn't your fault."

"I'm the one that struck you with that bludger!" Ginny objected loudly, getting shushed by Madam Pomfrey when she does.

"Come here. It's okay." Hera cajoled the younger girl, somehow getting her to climb into the bed and tucking her head under Hera's chin. "There now. It's alright. I'll be fine. You didn't do anything wrong. It was such a great game. You did so well. I'm so proud of you."

"But I…I…" Ginny sobbed.

"I put myself in the path of that bludger, Gin." Hera revealed gently. "Think back. Where would the bludger have gone if it hadn't hit me?"

It took a moment, and then Ginny gasped. "The first years!"

"There was a group of them right about where that bludger would have hit, and I saw that a split second after I saw the snitch." Hera admitted, running her fingers through the girl's hair. "I knew what I was doing. It's not your fault. This was literally your first game."

"M-Montague s-said you might never walk again." Ginny continued to cry.

"And were Madam Pomfrey not as awesome as she is, that might have been true." Hera allowed. "As it is, she is far too awesome for something as paltry as a spinal injury to do me in, and I'll be out within a day or so. Might have to walk with a cane for a bit, but I could pull it off. How 'bout we find one that's bitch'n, yeah? Just in case."

Thankfully, Ginny gave a weak giggle; an improvement.

"Just be happy you didn't eat the snitch your first game." Hera teased, causing Ginny to giggle a little more. "Now, that was a disaster."

In a graveyard on the outskirts of Little Hangleton, something was disturbing the ground. The wraith that Voldemort had been was settling into it, gathering the bones and blood long forgotten of his father and his enemy. Though rain and sun had destroyed much, the ritual had preserved the magic of it, and so remnants remained. He'd never known such pain, so great that even when he had the vocal cords to allow it, he could not scream. He knew not how long it took for his body to reform, focusing on the marvel that was the breath in his lungs, robing himself only when he thought the feeling of clothes wouldn't hurt quite so much as the air.

"That took longer than I thought it would." He hears, and whirls around to face the one speaking, forgetting in his rush to defend himself that his newly formed muscles would rebel, barely keeping the scream down with a grunt. "Yeah, that's gonna sting for a bit."

"As if you would know anything of it." He snapped, angrily, though he was distracted when his eyes finally landed on just who it was that was waiting for him. "Potter."

"I actually know a great deal of it, though it was not my life, not then." She replied. She looked taller, though just a little, older too. How long had he been a wraith for this time? "Whole limbs were cut off, organs removed, cybernetic implants implanted and rejected; things of the like. He saw his own heart beating outside of his chest once. It was maddening in the way you see something that shouldn't exist but does is. You look more like him than I thought you would."

"Speak plainly!" He demanded.

"What you just experienced is but a fraction of the pain that I have known; that he knew and will know." She claimed. His anger was blinding, and he wanted to send out a spell to make her feel the pain he felt now. "Don't bother trying anything. What you just went through is akin to summoning sickness, I suppose. You won't be able to do much of anything till the pain stops. Besides, I'm not really here."

That made him pause.

She looked like she was there, sitting on one of the wider headstones as she was. He searched for a flicker, a sign that she was not truly there, yet he could find nothing. He fired off a wandless curcio, having performed the spell so much he didn't need a wand for that one. Instead of it hitting her, she just batted it away like it was an annoying fly. It did not help that she looked completely unimpressed with his attitude, something that annoyed him further.

"I said I'm not really here, not that I couldn't affect the environment, you imbecilic plebeian." She scolded him.

"Then how…" He growled angrily. He was not a child!

"I would say astral projection, but I'm not sure that's what this is. Realm hopping in dreams does leave a bit of room for how one interprets magic." She mused. Voldemort paused as he considered her. Realm hopping was theoretical, but to do so in dreams?…That required…something else entirely. "An illusion at the very least, though not a very powerful one. It isn't even corporeal or anything."

"What are you doing here?" He demanded, already tired of her games. She couldn't even brag about how powerful she was properly.

"You summoned me here." She shrugged. At no point during that exhaustively painful episode did he remember summoning her here. "Not intentionally, mind you, but your magic called to mine. No matter how you hide yourself from the world, I'll always know where you are now, because of what you did; just as you will always know where I am."

He thought on her words for a moment, before realizing what had caused it. "…The ritual."

"The ritual." She confirmed. "Had it only been you performing the ritual, you would know where I was at all times, but when I reversed it…it added a certain…duality to things."

"Then why are you still here?" Voldemort demanded. "You can choose to leave!"

"I could, but I thought I would try talking with you instead." She confirmed, confusing him once more. "I know the whole of the prophecy."

"You will tell me." Voldemort demanded, not that she seemed threatened by that.

"I will." She agreed. "I will also offer you a choice, one I want you to fully consider before you decide to act."

He didn't get the chance to ask what it was before she began.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...

Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...

and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...

and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."

"That's it, the whole of the prophecy, the thing that gave you the bright idea to go try and kill a defenseless baby." She continued. "There are so many holes in that thing, I don't know whether to laugh or cry."

"Holes?" He inquired. This was unusually patient for him, he noticed; then again, her not actually being here might account for some of that. "Enlighten me, Potter."

"You really wanna do this?" She asked with incredulity. "Fine. First line. Right out of the gate, there are two problems with that sentence. Says the one with the power approaches; not that they actually will choose to do said vanquishing, just that they could. Also, it never specifically outs you as the Dark Lord. I mean, there have been others before you, and we'll have others after you."

He almost stopped breathing, having not thought of this.

"Next line. Let's say this Dark Lord is you. Do you know how many people actually defied you three times? It's a lot." She continued. "Also, it says what month the kid is born in, but not what year. That seems like an important thing to consider. Many of the people who've defied you three times later went on to have children, or had had children already. My theory is that you made yourself the Dark Lord of the prophecy when you marked me as your equal, though there is that pesky pronoun business to consider."

The more she poked holes in the prophecy, the angrier he became.

"And the power I know not?"

"I can make a few guesses, but without knowing for sure, it could be anything. I'm constantly discovering something new I can do, or something I think others can do that they actually can't." She shrugged. "What you should be focusing on is the last line before the repeat."

"Either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives." He repeated.

"Yeah. That's the thing I'm most unsure about," She nodded. "but it leads us to the choice I wish to offer you, and an inquiry I have."

"The choice?" It's a thinly veiled order, but she nods in understanding. Infuriating, this girl.

"Walk away. Forget your dreams of ruling the world. Reclaim the pieces of your soul, and live a good life." She stated. "Or don't. Continue on your quest to rule. We will meet on the battlefield either way. It is your choice if we do so as allies or not."

"You would…" This was a trap. It had to be. "Why? I killed your parents! Killed them as they begged me not to end your life!"

"They were fighting in a war. They knew what they were getting into, what they signed up for." She counters, and he can't help but stare at her in confusion. "That last line isn't all or nothing. It doesn't define what living and surviving means. Even when it mentions dying, it doesn't say how. Is it a physical death, or is it when we grow and mentally mature that a part of us dies? Maybe it's deciding that we could do more if we teamed up than if we sought to destroy each other. Maybe it's the death of innocence. I don't know."

"Your inquiry?"

He would not let her know how much she had given him to think about.

"What were your goals when you first started this?" She asked, and he paused. "Immortality is pretty straightforward, I get that, but you had to choose the worst way to get there. I mean, your nose fell off and you had no eyebrows, you idiot. I wouldn't want to be immortal looking like that. I just…What else were you trying to accomplish? Power? Wealth? To Change the world? There are so many other better ways to do that. Go into politics, change the system from within, use it to your advantage. I've heard the stories. In the beginning, you had the charisma to do it. That's why Dumbledore feared you."

"Why would you wish to team up with me?" He asked, not giving an answer to her inquiry, though it looked like she hadn't really expected one.

"Oh, I'm going after Dumbledore, and I thought you might like to help with that." She shrugged, wincing as if something hit her. "My apologies…I didn't mean to…I hate it when it's done to me, but I…It's just…Your mind. I saw into your mind that night."

How many more times would this young girl surprise him?

"I saw Dumbledore tell a scared little boy that he was a wizard, saw him chastise him for stealing, set all his stolen treasures on fire, reveal that those things were perfectly safe, and then leave in his pretentious suit,…and I envied that kid." Her voice was almost a whisper, it was so quiet. "You had a bed and a window in your room, and I couldn't help but think how lucky you were. My room wasn't nearly so nice as that, just a cupboard under the stairs I had to share with the cleaning supplies. I understood the stealing too, taking things thrown away, and hiding them in my room. For someone who had nothing, those things were treasures to me. If Dumbledore had been the one to show me the wizarding world, had he come and set my things on fire, and told me that stealing will not be tolerated…

To know that starving and abusing a child could be forgiven, but said child stealing for food or comfort could not be…I would have learned a spell that could really set things on fire just so I could watch his world burn, to see how he would like having his things turned to ash before his eyes. I knew I wasn't the only one he refused to help, that there were others he'd manipulated, and I'd wondered if perhaps you were one of them."

"Why are you telling me this?" Voldemort demanded, seething. He did not like feeling so exposed.

"Other than you being too weak right now to fight back?" She asked, not that he'd admit to that, but she was right…and she knew it. "When I met Ollivander, he told me about the wand that was the brother to my own, that great things were done with that wand; terrible, yes, but great. Since that time, everyone has tried to tell me that it is either good or bad, light or dark, but that simply isn't how magic works. Good is not always Light, Dark is not always Evil, but they forget that there is a third option, and it is that option that I choose."

"And that is?"

"Mischief and Chaos." She replies with a wicked grin. "Defiance and Rebellion. I choose to offer second chances to those who would think themselves undeserving, and protect those too innocent to defend themselves. I choose to rain vengeance upon those who seek to control and manipulate me, and destruction to those who think they can own me. I chose the path of Wild Magic."

She stood up, and made as if to leave, but paused.

"I grew up surrounded by those that hated me, and found myself among friends at Hogwarts. I would do anything for them, and they for me. I chose to protect those that are mine. I wonder…just what you will choose." She stated, looking up at him. "Just because Trelawney made a prophecy doesn't make it all or nothing, and I've got bigger fish to fry than either you or Dumbledore."

"What aren't you telling me?"

"Many things. We are Slytherin, after all." She replied with a sly grin. "Oh, before I forget. When the weird things start happening to you, feel free to call to me again."

"Easy, Potter. You're in the hospital wing again. Your friends are on various sleeping bags around the bed. There was a quidditch accident." She heard Snape as she gasped for air. "Do you remember that?"

She nodded quickly, her breath slowing down as she tried to calm herself.

"Will you consent to my helping you sit up? Madam Pomfrey said you are well enough now to be assisted in such an endeavour, though not well enough to attempt an escape." She heard him say, and nodded to show her consent. "Very well. Prepare yourself. This may hurt."

It didn't, though it was a bit uncomfortable, but at least she was resting against a pillow propped up against the headboard now.

"Now, care to explain what that was?" Snape proposed, once he was seated by the bed. "I've set up privacy wards."

"It was stupid. Absolutely stupid. I can't believe I answered…" Hera admitted, her heart racing in her ears. "Something called to my magic, and I answered, followed the path to the old graveyard. I watched as Riddle regained his body, spoke to him when he had enough self awareness to try standing. The magic held onto bone and blood, allowed him another chance, but what I did…"

"What exactly did you do, Potter?" Snape inquired, his curiosity barely hidden.

"I gave him the one thing Dumbledore never did, the one thing he's denied himself all these years." Hera replied, looking over at him, silently pleading for him to understand. "A choice."