Harry turned her face upwards, embracing the spray of hot water.
The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...
The words were imprinted on her mind. No obliviation would be able to remove them. Were they really about her? It was hard to believe... she didn't feel like the Dark Lord's equal. That was a lot to live up to. But it was quite clear what the power he knows not was.
She looked down at her body, her wet red hair sticking to her skin as the shower blasted her almost painfully. She'd become accustomed to her body by now, and knew it pretty well. She found that she no longer thought of it as Ginny's body. For better or for worse, it was hers.
She turned the shower off and stood there, dripping. While she was enjoying the comforts of the Weasleys' home, he was also wandering the darkening streets of Paris, invisible to all. He had been walking for hours, making sure he knew the way to the French Ministry, retracing the route their carriage had taken the night before.
The night before. It felt so strange, to think that just a day ago Dumbledore had been talking and eating and smiling.
He'd stolen bread from a bakery for lunch - ridiculously easy when you had an invisibility cloak - and he ate more of it now, settling down on a park bench.
"Calortendo," he whispered, after making sure he wouldn't be overheard. He made a circular motion with his wand, as if drawing a circle around the bench, before flicking it back at himself. As soon as the spell completed, he felt warm again, as if someone had turned the heating up, pushing away the rapidly cooling Parisian air. Nodding at his success, he turned his attention to the bench itself. It was a fairly simple thing: wooden slats held together by metal bars. He should be able to do something with it.
"Mutatio Lignum," he said, giving each slat a short, sharp tap. The wood rippled before stretching and expanding to form a solid plank. That was the easy bit: mutating an object was much simpler than transforming it. But he could give it a go - they'd covered the Verto spell that year, though this was more complicated than anything they had to do in class. He didn't know the Latinate marker for 'mattress', but he knew that with sufficient skill you could do away with markers altogether.
"Lignum verto!" he said, more forcefully this time, and he twisted his wand slowly in the Third Corkscrew movement. As he did, the wood began to transform: it puffed up somewhat, and the edges looked like they had been sewn. However, it retained its colour and pattern. Tentatively, Harry gave it a feel. The wood had turned slightly spongy on the top, but it was far from a fully successful transfiguration. Still, it would work well enough.
He lay down and pulled out Dumbledore's Dossier. He began flicking through the pages, just looking at the photographs - though occasionally he was interested enough in a person to read more. He was looking for four people in particular: the four men from that morning, who had been with Edwards. Being able to name them all would help when he went to the Aurors. Unfortunately, the dossier was several thousand pages long, and Harry was having trouble finding any of them.
"Time for bed, Ginny," said Mr. Weasley, knocking on her door as Harry lay down on his improvised bed. While transfiguring the bench in Paris, she'd left the bathroom and got into her pyjamas.
"Night, dad," Harry said, snuggling into the cosy covers. She still felt very strange calling Mrs. and Mr. Weasley 'mum' and 'dad'. She'd dreamed of being able to say "mum" all her life, dreamed of having a dad to say goodnight to. But now it was marred by deceit.
"Goodnight, Gingin," said Mr. Weasley, and he waved his wand, leaving Harry in darkness.
She didn't stay lying in the bed for long. The discomfort of the park bench was keeping him awake, and he'd long since found that he couldn't sleep with one body while the other remained awake. Trying to stay quiet, she slipped back out of her bed, and rummaged through a pile of clothes. It was annoying that she couldn't even use a light charm - the Restriction on Underage Sorcery really was a silly law. Still, it didn't take long to find what she was looking for: a bundle of invisible cloth wrapped around a tiara.
She sat on the bed and placed it in front of her, unwrapping it carefully. It sat heavily on the covers, and the gold glinted darkly as it reflected what little moonlight came through her window. Somehow, some part of Voldemort's mind was inside. She shifted nervously at the thought. It was like the diary - the diary which had originated this chain of events. If there were two, could there be more? Had Voldemort littered Hogwarts with them, traps for unwary students? Contingency plans for the future? Harry didn't know. They were unlike any other magic she knew of, or had even heard of. Magic that dealt with the mind was obscure and powerful. They'd learn Obliviation in sixth year Charms, but that was the only real mind magic studied at Hogwarts, as far as she knew.
He had beaten the diary. He had fooled Dumbledore, more or less. She had held off this diadem, though it was a close thing. And now, he had two minds. Two brains. The power he knows not. Two bodies were useful, for sure, but having two minds was where his real advantage lay. He needed to learn how to harness that power, if he was going to be Voldemort's equal.
And who better to teach her than Voldemort himself?
Decision made, she reached out and touched the tiara.
She was ready for it this time. She realised now, looking back, that last time Voldemort had gained a foothold in her mind before she had even realised what was happening. After that, resistance had been pointless.
This time was different. She was aware of what she was doing, and focused on her own mind. She felt it, the moment Voldemort entered her, and not just because her scar - invisible, but there nonetheless - began to burn. Last time Voldemort had used brute force. This time, he was going for a more subtle approach.
She reached out to pick up the tiara properly, intending to put it on. She could learn so much more, she thought, if she could practice at the same time as wearing Ravenclaw's legendary diadem.
She stopped just before she placed it on her head. She didn't know anything about Ravenclaw's diadem, and she most certainly didn't want to put the cursed object on. She examined the thought, focusing, and realised that it was not her own. She shook her head, struggling to clear her mind of the alien thought. It was extremely difficult - it kept popping up again and again, and each time she moved to put the diadem on. But each time she recognised the alien bent of her thoughts quicker, and each time she found it easier to banish.
Perhaps the diadem was too dangerous to keep. She should try to destroy it, she thought. She knew the incantation: Terror Infernus. She could control the cursed flame, she knew she could. She reached for her wand and prepared the spell. Her wand began to smoke.
And then, once again, she caught herself. What spell had she been about to cast? Not one she knew of, that's for sure. Once more she tried to clear her mind of the alien thought, telling herself that she wanted to use the diadem for practice. She didn't want to destroy it - not yet - and certainly not with some unknown curse.
She sighed with relief - she could have killed herself, had she cast Fiendfyre in that bedroom - and put the diadem on.
Damn it!
Voldemort's mind slammed into her own like the Hogwarts Express, physically rocking Harry backwards with the strength of the attack. She bit down on a pillow, holding in a scream. Memories flashed through her mind. She was confronting Quirrel in front of the Mirror of Erised. She was talking with Tom Riddle. She was stabbing the diary with a basilisk fang. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...
No! Harry thought, and he rallied with both his minds. He would not be beaten. There was no Dumbledore to save him now. There would be no cavalry to the rescue. It was him, and Voldemort.
She took all thoughts of the prophecy and shunted them into Harry's mind, hiding them from Voldemort by emptying her own mind of the knowledge. Voldemort tried to follow the trail, somehow discerning a connection between the two bodies. Harry panicked and split his thoughts further, separating his minds almost entirely. It confused Voldemort, and suddenly Harry had the advantage. She focused on her thoughts and concentrated, trying to slow the whirlwind of images and memories that Voldemort was provoking. Instead of resisting it, she embraced it, trying to force herself to linger on memories as long as she could, rather than letting Voldemort riffle through her mind like a filing cabinet.
Her thoughts stilled somewhat, though Voldemort was still there, still trying to dig up important knowledge, still trying to turn her mental voice in unnatural directions. She began to worry that she couldn't beat him. So with Herculean effort, he went on the attack. Harry dived into Voldemort's mind, trying to exert dominance. The diadem - what is it? he thought, and Voldemort thought it too. A word occurred to Harry as if it were a memory of his own: horcrux.
And then the world exploded in pain. Voldemort was furious. He wasn't trying to dominate her any more. He wasn't trying to find her secrets. He was trying to destroy her. Fire ripped through her veins and her body spasmed. She let own a short scream, before biting once more on the pillow.
This wasn't just Voldemort's mind. This was something else. It was like Voldemort himself were there, trying to possess her. But Harry possessed a strong will of his own. In desperation, he tried something new. Instead of keeping his minds separate, he brought them together.
For the first time in months he had a unified consciousness, and it felt good. He could think faster - much faster. He could see patterns he hadn't seen before. Ideas occurred to him that before were obscure. And he could see now what Voldemort had been trying to hide from him. A thought Voldemort had been preventing from surfacing in Harry's mind. It was obvious.
Harry reached up, and knocked the diadem off her head.
Voldemort's presence instantly diminished to almost nothing. Harry's thoughts divided once more - it had taken supreme effort to keep them unified. After what she had just gone through, it took just a final push to eject Voldemort from her mind, and once more she was alone.
Her sheets were soaked in sweat and she ached all over - in both bodies. But despite the pain, Harry smiled. She had learnt a lot, that was for sure.
"Ginny, are you okay?" came a voice through the door. It was Bill. "I heard you scream."
Harry quickly threw the invisibility cloak back over the diadem, just before Bill opened the door.
"I'm okay," she said as he squinted at her through the dark. "Just a nightmare."
"Alright," said Bill, looking worried. "If you need anything, you know where to find me."
As soon as he left, Harry hid the diadem again, careful not to touch it. She was exhausted, and could not afford another battle with Voldemort. She returned to bed, thinking about what she had just learnt while continuing to flick through Dumbledore's dossier.
She'd learnt that she needed practice at clearing her mind of thoughts: both those which were not her own, and those which she wished to hide. She'd survived by cheating, using her unique power to evade Voldemort's attack. Who knew if Voldemort would be able to figure out a way around that, or if she'd always be able to do it? What if she needed to be using both bodies at the same time, while engaged in a mental struggle? She needed to get good at protecting her thoughts normally, without using her special ability.
So she practiced then, not seeing any reason to wait. She tried to silence her thoughts, or focus on certain ones. She tried to think of nothing. She tried to think of two contradictory things at once, and believe both. All these things would be useful, she thought. Mind magic, Harry decided, was nothing more or less than the mastery of your own thoughts.
It was past midnight when he finally found one of Dumbledore's murderers. He found the entry by luck, as he'd taken to turning to random pages after he had failed to even get to the Bs in an hour.
Mercado Reya, Felipe. Castillian. 76 years old. Pureblood. The current Duke of Castille and head of the Reya family. Educated at Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, where he was top in his year - partly attributable to natural talent, but also to the extensive tutoring he underwent as the successor to Catalina Reya Diaz. He has two daughters and five grandchildren. Naturally, Felipe is an extraordinarily rich wizard, with a fortune equivalent to over a million galleons. Felipe became Duke at the early age of 35, when his mother died in mysterious circumstances. I have been unable to find any evidence of foul play, but it would not be uncharacteristic of the man. A Dark wizard of some skill, the Duke is a dangerous wizard to duel, and has knowledge of many pieces of obscure magic - no doubt his family's famous library has something to do with this. However, a suitably skilled Senior Auror should be able to defeat him. Voldemort met with the Duke five times over the course of the 1970s, and I believe they would have forged an alliance, had Voldemort not fallen. The Duke's cousin Juan Mercado Lopez seeks to usurp his position. While distasteful, I believe it wise to encourage this ambition, given Felipe's support of Voldemort.
I might be a bit out of my depth, Harry thought. Edwards, while powerful, was young, and just a governor. The Reya family were one of the most powerful in all Europe, and Felipe was the ruler of an entire nation. And Harry wanted to bring him to justice.
Small steps. Once he reached the Minister, or the Aurors, he could decide how much to say about Reya. As much as he disliked the idea, it might be best to just go after Edwards, at first.
But Harry wouldn't rest until they were all punished. Whoever they were, and whatever positions of power they may possess, they would pay for what they'd done.
A bit rough, I feel, but fun to write. So many people write magical children as useless until at least their fifth year, but by third year they've moved onto animate transfiguration - and from what we can tell, they don't return to inanimate transfiguration, though I'm sure stuff they learn later increases the depth of their knowledge.