CW: Torture, medical trauma
The first scene of this chapter, after the italics, contains torture and has elements of medical trauma. If you would like to skip this scene, at the end of the italics (first line not in italics is "Time to wake up now"), scroll down to the line break. The end notes will contain a summary for anyone who chooses to skip.
MAY 2nd, 1997
Ginny was floating again. She was on the edge of a forest. It was daytime this time, and while she thought this was probably the same forest she had seen before, there was no sign of a manor nearby.
"Alys! Alys, wait for me!"
Down below her, Ginny saw two figures walking through the forest, one a little ahead of the other. Curious, she floated downward.
Ginny felt her mind gasp in surprise. It was the woman, the same woman she had seen in the burning building, but this time she was very much alive. So alive, in fact, that she was smiling and laughing at her traveling companion, a man who looked to be a year or two older than her. He too wore clothing that looked to be several centuries old.
"You are too forward, sir," she said, though her tone made it clear that she was teasing. "Following me out into the woods unaccompanied. Whatever will my grandmother think?"
The man grinned at her. "Probably that I'm a right scoundrel undeserving of her granddaughter's esteemed company."
The woman- Alys- laughed. Her smile was beautiful, wide and full of warmth. Her curls bounced against her as she spun to face the man. "And do you know what I say to that?"
The man grew closer, still smiling but with a bit of fire in his eyes. "What do you say to that?"
"My grandmother is a woman of very poor taste," she said in a sultry whisper before stepping forward to kiss the man.
Ginny felt indecent watching them, like she was intruding on something private and yet somehow sacred. There was a gravity to Alys's energy, to the way she held herself, the way she walked. It was difficult to explain. Ginny could understand why the man was drawn to her.
After a few long moments, Alys broke away from the kiss. "Well, since you're out here, you can make yourself useful. I'm looking for buckthorn root." She passed him the basket she was carrying, which had several different types of herbs in it already. Ginny thought she recognized one or two- was this woman a witch?
"For Edric's boy?" the man asked, his voice growing grave. Alys's smile fell as she turned and started walking.
"Yes," she said. "I'm hoping the poultice will help."
Not a witch then. Ginny knew scant little about Muggle history, but she thought she remembered learning that early Muggle medicine had been more similar to wizarding healing techniques than it was in modern day. Maybe Alys was a Muggle healer?
"Edric will be ecstatic if it works," he said, following behind her. "The plague has been horrible this year."
"Yes," Alys said, an interesting note of bitterness creeping into her voice. Her beautiful features turned harsh. "The plague. Fascinating how its symptoms always seem to change."
"Alys," the man said, his voice suddenly sharp as a whip. "Mind your tongue. Even the trees have ears here, you know that." He glanced around nervously.
Alys's face grew harder still. "Our gods remember us, Henry. We are not forgotten."
"Time to wake up now."
Ginny startled awake, though she forced herself to hold as still as possible under the bindings. She was in the same room as before, the same place where Voldemort had left her after invading her mind. How long had passed since then? Hours? Days? Minutes? She wasn't sure.
A man stepped into view, a man she vaguely recognized.
"Your name's Ginny, right?" he asked, as conversationally as if they were discussing the weather. "Mine is Augustus Rookwood. We've met once before, of course."
The name clicked in her mind - Rookwood was one of the Death Eaters who had broken into the Department of Mysteries the previous year. He had dueled Kingsley Shacklebolt before Dumbledore had arrived to save them all.
"I believe you understand why you are here," he continued, strolling idly around the table. "I had quite the shock when the Dark Lord summoned me and explained your... situation. He's never seen anything quite like it. In his infinite wisdom, the Dark Lord saw fit to consult me on the matter. I have a rather...unique skill set, you see. Before the Dark Lord fell, I worked in the Department of Mysteries as an Unspeakable. Can you guess which room I worked in, Ginny?"
Ginny said nothing, glaring at him. Whatever he was leading towards, she wouldn't play along.
"That's right," Rookwood said with a smirk, as though her glare was answer enough. "The Death Room. And yet even there, in all its wonders, I've never seen anything like this before." He pulled a small glass vial out of his robe pocket, removed the stopper, and waved his wand. Wisps of white, cloudy material eased out of the vial and materialized into a memory, floating about a foot above Ginny.
She watched wordlessly as she saw herself through Voldemort's eyes, floating above the ground, across from Death itself. Rookwood watched with a reverent gaze, his pockmarked face shadowed oddly against the light of the memory. Ginny closed her eyes.
Don't make me live through this again.
"Ah, ah," said Rookwood, tapping her with his wand. "Eyes open. You don't want to miss the best part."
Ginny thought about keeping her eyes closed, refusing out of spite, but it was such a pointless thing to fight against. She was so tired. Wearily, she opened her eyes.
Memory-Ginny was screaming, thrashing in the air. The portal was closing, and the youngest of the three men was standing at the edge of it, watching her with tears in his eyes.
He really does look like Harry, Ginny thought. Could they be related? But this person must have lived centuries and centuries ago...
He tossed the gem through the portal, and Ginny was oddly fascinated to see it from an outside perspective. She watched in awe as the gem struck her past self in the chest and golden light filled the air in a thick column, shooting toward the ground and far up into the sky. She smiled in grim satisfaction as it blasted apart the Dark Mark that Voldemort had shot up into the air.
"Magnificent," Rookwood murmured beside her. "Absolutely stunning."
The light subsided and memory-Ginny crashed to the ground; her present self winced as she remembered the impact. She and Rookwood watched as Voldemort cast the Killing Curse toward her once, then again, and finally the Cruciatus. Ginny turned her face away from the memory, hating to see herself collapse in front of these men.
She heard Rookwood's footfalls as he stepped away, the memory over. "Absolutely stunning," he said again, more to himself than to her. "A gift from the Dark Lord to be given this assignment."
Ginny's blood chilled at his words. He had said she knew why she was here, but did she really? What did they intend for her?
Rookwood was in a corner of the room she couldn't see. Ginny squirmed. The anticipation of the unknown was making her heart race.
"I don't know anything," she said, her voice raspy from screaming. "I don't know how it happened."
"I know you don't," said Rookwood, sounding supremely unconcerned. "The Dark Lord was quite thorough in his search of your memories." Ginny flinched, his words instantly calling to mind the phantom of Voldemort's oily presence. So like and unlike the diary. Despite herself, she started shaking. She felt small, like she really might be eleven years old again.
Rookwood walked back into view, stopping near her waist. "So tell me, Ginny, what do we do when we don't know something?"
Ginny remained silent. Rookwood sighed.
"We learn about it. We test it. That's what the Department of Mysteries is all about, after all. Avada Kedavra."
Green light blasted from Rookwood's wand without warning. Ginny's mind went blank with panic, but before she could even try to get out of the way, golden light erupted from her body, encircling her in a crackling bubble of protection. The light from the Killing Curse faded harmlessly away, and after a moment, the golden orb subsided.
"Fascinating," murmured Rookwood. A floating parchment and quill came into view next to him, taking notes. "So the effect is not specific to the Dark Lord. Just to be sure- Crucio."
Pain was everywhere, it was everything, she couldn't get it away from it, she was dying and living and dying again and-
And it stopped.
"Definitely not specific to the Dark Lord," Rookwood said. The quill scratched faintly on the parchment next to him. "Don't worry, girl, my goal is not to cause you pain. An unfortunate side effect, perhaps, but not the goal."
He pulled out a knife. Ginny started thrashing on the table. This could not be happening. The bindings tightened, forcing her arms and legs to lay flat.
"Be still, now, this will be over quickly," he said as he made to slice the knife across her throat. When the knife was barely above her neck, the shield of light activated, more forcefully this time. It knocked the knife out of Rookwood's hand as the light pushed outward. The knife clattered to the floor on the other side of the room.
Ginny's heart was racing so fast that she couldn't distinguish one beat from the next.
"Please stop," she whispered. Somebody help me.
Rookwood appeared not to hear her. "Accio knife." The knife flew back into his hand. "So an obviously fatal wound is blocked, but what about a less fatal one?" With no malice at all, Rookwood stabbed the knife straight into Ginny's thigh.
Ginny screamed, her vision going white from shock.
"Hmm. Interesting. Where is the line, I wonder?"
Ginny's breath came in ragged gasps, and she desperately wished she was floating, anywhere but here.
MAY 2nd, 1997
"Harry! Harry, wake up!"
Harry startled awake. Sunlight was creeping through the windows of the dormitory, sunlight which was partially blocked by Kathleen Barrows standing next to his bed, shaking his arm.
"Kathleen!" he said, sitting up in bed. "You can leave your room now? Does that mean the Imperius is-"
"Broken, yeah," she said. Her eyes looked clear, a far cry from last night. "Lupin is going to have me give a statement to McGonagall and that man from the Ministry, but I told him I wanted you, Ron, and Hermione to be there."
"Excellent," Harry said, pushing back the covers and standing up, ignoring the fact that Kathleen was seeing him in his pajamas. "I'm really glad you're alright."
Kathleen nodded. "I have... I have a lot to say, and I only want to say it once," she said, taking a deep, shuddering breath. "This is... a lot for me."
Harry's gaze softened. "Of course," he said. "I'll wake Ron."
Kathleen nodded again, clearly relieved he wasn't pressuring her. "I'll go get Hermione," she said before heading out down the stairs.
It took a couple of attempts to rouse Ron, but he was on his feet soon enough, sliding his Weasley sweater over his pajamas. They had had maybe four hours of sleep after an absolutely exhausting night, but it was all the rest they could afford. His dreams had been filled with Ginny's face, crying out in some dark dungeon somewhere. They didn't have any time to waste.
They met Hermione and Kathleen in the common room and then started walking along.
"Er, McGonagall moved her office," Kathleen said. "She's Headmistress now."
The pit in Harry's stomach that represented the loss of Dumbledore tightened.
"That makes sense," Hermione said quietly. "Especially with the Ministry here. She has to show a strong face."
"You think the Ministry would want to interfere here?" Harry asked.
"After what happened yesterday? Definitely," Hermione said. "McGonagall has to show them that Hogwarts can still take care of itself."
"Fat lot of good all those Ministry protections did for the grounds, anyway," said Ron. "Didn't matter when it really counted, did it?"
No, it didn't.
Soon enough, they had reached Dumbledore's- McGonagall's- office. Harry's heart felt like it was in his throat. How could he go back to this room when Dumbledore would not be there to greet him?
"Sugar Quill," said Kathleen, at which point the stone gargoyle dutifully hopped aside in order to allow them to ascend the stairs.
His first thought was that McGonagall looked small behind the desk, like the furniture was too big for her body. Kingsley and Lupin were seated across from her along with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, waiting for them. McGonagall waved her wand and four more chairs appeared. The adults stood up and moved their chairs at an angle to allow the group to sit in a semi-circle facing the desk. Harry noted that Kingsley was wearing his Auror badge, and that in lieu of plain parchment, he had a Ministry-embossed one floating next to him, a Quick-Quotes quill at the ready.
So this is official Ministry business, then. Not like last night.
Kathleen sat in the chair furthest from McGonagall, looking uncomfortable but determined. Harry sat next to her, with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley on his other side. Mrs. Weasley reached out to grasp his hand, her eyes tired and bloodshot.
"Thank you for being here, Harry, Hermione dear," she said in a tremulous voice. "This is... this is very hard for our family-" She started crying and Mr. Weasley put his hand on her shoulder. Kathleen looked supremely uncomfortable now.
Kingsley cleared his throat. "This interview is being conducted by Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt in the matter of the disappearance and suspected kidnapping of Ginevra Molly Weasley, a fifth year student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Let the official record show that Cordelia Eustace Barrows, mother and legal guardian of the witness Kathleen Elizabeth Barrows, has been notified of these proceedings. Miss Barrows has waived the right to have a parent or legal guardian present and has instead requested that fellow students Harry James Potter, Ronald Bilius Weasley, and Hermione Jean Granger act as witnesses to today's proceedings. Are there any objections?"
No one spoke.
"Alright, Miss Barrows, thank you for agreeing to speak with us on this matter," Kingsley said. "As I understand it, you have some information to report that may be relevant to Miss Weasley's disappearance, is that correct?"
Kathleen nodded.
"Please speak for the record."
"Yes, that's correct."
"Please tell us your account of yesterday's events."
Kathleen squirmed in her seat. "It's... complicated. It might be easier if I start at the beginning, and you stop me if you have questions along the way?"
Kingsley was quiet for a moment before nodding. "Alright then. Please start at the beginning."
Kathleen took a deep breath, her hands making tight fists in her lap. "About a week after I returned to school from winter holiday, Draco Malfoy approached me in the library."
"Let the record show that Draco Lucius Malfoy is a sixth year student at Hogwarts," Kingsley said, making Kathleen falter. Harry felt his hands tightening into fists just like hers. This was going to be a painful conversation if it had to follow the "official" guidelines.
"He approached me when I was alone, in one of the aisles, and cast the Imperius Curse on me," she said. The Quick-Quotes quill scribbled furiously next to Kingsley.
"And what did Mr. Malfoy command you to do, once under the Imperius?"
Another deep breath. "At first, nothing much. He took me to a room on the seventh floor that he called the Room of Hidden Things and said that was to be our meeting place."
"Let the record show that the Room of Hidden Things is also referred to as the Room of Requirement and the Come and Go Room in various documentation," Kingsley said.
"Is that really necessary?" Mrs. Weasley hissed. "Let the poor girl speak."
"Yes, Molly, it's necessary. Strike that last," he said, and the quill made two dramatic flourishes, crossing out the last bit of dialogue.
"So you were to have regular meetings with Mr. Malfoy?" Kingsley continued.
"Semi-regular, yes," Kathleen said. "He would always change the day and time."
"And what were these meetings to be about?"
Kathleen bit her lip, rocking just slightly in her seat. Acting on instinct, Harry put his hand on her knee, and Kathleen relaxed.
"He wanted me to observe Ginny Weasley, and report back to him on what I observed."
"Bloody stalker," Ron muttered.
"Strike that last," Kingsley said with an irritated look at Ron. "What kind of things did you observe?"
Kathleen shrugged, but with a prompting look from Kingsley, said, "Nothing in particular. Ginny is my best friend, we spend a lot of time together."
"And was Mr. Malfoy satisfied with those observations?"
What kind of question is that?
"I don't know," said Kathleen, "but he would... he didn't just accept me telling him. He used Legilimency." Her voice had dropped to a whisper. Harry squeezed her knee in an attempt to reassure her and to distract himself from the absolute raging fury that was stirring in his chest.
Kingsley's face took on a sympathetic expression. "I see. And am I to understand that due to being under the Imperius, you were unable to resist the Legilimency?"
"That's correct."
"What information did Mr. Malfoy seem to be looking for in particular?"
"He wanted to know what was important to her," Kathleen said. "What she enjoyed, what she valued. About her friends and family. About Harry."
"Did he seem interested in Harry?"
"Not in particular above anything else, no."
"Alright," Kingsley said with a frown, having clearly expected a different answer. "How long did this go on for?"
"A few weeks," Kathleen said. "Things changed before the Valentine's Day party."
Harry frowned. Was Malfoy a stalker? It seemed... odd. Off, somehow. The Malfoy he knew would never stoop so low.
"Tell us about this party," Kingsley said.
"Let the record show that this party was not a school-sanctioned event," said McGonagall. Kingsley glanced at her but let it slide.
"Let the record show that last statement as belonging to Headmistress Minerva McGonagall," Kingsley said.
Once Kathleen was sure they were done talking, she continued, "He wanted me to make sure that Ginny went to the party. Once I was there, he mentally commanded me to... make myself scarce so that he could talk to her."
The rumors that had flown like crazy after the party raced through Harry's mind, as well as his unfortunate reaction upon hearing them. Guilt twisted his stomach. Had Ginny been in trouble, even back then, and he had been too prideful to see it?
Before Kingsley could respond, Kathleen kept talking, as though a dam had been opened. "A bit later that night, he mentally told me that he had given Ginny some information, and that I was to encourage her to research it and to discourage her from reporting it to anyone else, but only to the point that it wouldn't raise Ginny's suspicions. If Ginny became suspicious, I was to let her do as she wanted."
The tension in the room grew. The Quick-Quotes quill scratched away.
"What information was this?" Kingsley asked.
"That Malfoy may or may not be a Death Eater, and that the Death Eaters were looking for a historic weapon for You-Know-Who."
"I'm sorry, may or may not be a Death Eater? Could you clarify that statement?"
Kathleen flushed a bit. "He said it in such a way that there was room for interpretation."
"What exactly did he-"
"What does it matter?" Harry interjected. "We know he's a Death Eater, he fled with them last night."
Kingsley grimaced. "Let the record show that last statement as belonging to Harry James Potter, referring to the murder of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, by-"
"Severus Snape, yes, we get it," Harry snapped.
"He gave Ginny a hypothetical," Kathleen said, speaking before Kingsley could open his mouth to reprimand Harry. "What he would do if he was a Death Eater."
"I see," said Kingsley. "And what did Ginny do with this information?"
"She wanted to tell Harry, but she was embarrassed about drinking and dancing with Malfoy, and... and I discouraged her from saying anything."
"It's not your fault," Ron said, surprising Harry. "You couldn't help it."
"Strike that last."
"What do you mean, strike that last? It's the truth!"
"And irrelevant to the facts of the case, Mr. Weasley," Kingsley said in a tone that brokered no further argument. "The record already reflects Miss Barrows' diminished mental capacity at the time."
Kathleen flinched at the words diminished mental capacity but continued on. "I fought against the Imperius, and I think Malfoy could sense it. He had me meet with him the next day and recast it, much stronger this time." She shuddered. "It was like being trapped behind a wall in my own mind. I couldn't get out."
Hermione covered her mouth with her hand.
"What was his command at this point?"
"To obey him without question, no protests or loopholes. Not to tell Ginny or Harry or anyone, that I could only talk about it with him, and... and..." Kathleen frowned. "I'm sorry, I'm feeling a little fuzzy. Could I please have some water?"
"Of course," Professor McGonagall said. "Aguamenti." She filled a glass on the desk and passed it along. Harry handed it to Kathleen, who took it with a shaking hand. Lupin leaned over to Kingsley and whispered something in his ear. The two men appeared to debate for a moment before Kingsley sat up straight again.
"Thank you for your excellent testimony so far, Miss Barrows," he said. "This information is very helpful to the Auror office. So Mr. Malfoy instructed you to obey him. What did he want you to do?"
Kathleen's brow was furrowed, and Harry noticed she had broken out into a light sweat. "He... he gave me a list of books," she said, but phrased it more like a question. "A list of books. Or was that later? We read so many books..."
Harry looked at Lupin in alarm. He was frowning intensely at Kathleen.
"They had detention together," she said, apropos of nothing. Her gaze looked less focused. "Ginny and Malfoy had detention together. Ginny didn't want to cut up toads, so Malfoy did it for her." She looked around and seemed to realize how bizarre her statement sounded. "Oh no, oh no, what's happening?" she said, burying her face in her hands.
"It's alright, Kathleen," Lupin said, standing up and walking toward her. "I've heard of this happening before, though it's uncommon. Tell me, when Mr. Malfoy would perform Legilimency on you, did he ever... linger? Interact with the memories beyond observing?"
Kathleen nodded vigorously, keeping her face covered. Lupin sighed, putting a hand on her shoulder.
"Let the record show that an uncommonly gifted or accomplished Legilimens can, with the right effort, work a type of memory magic on another person's memories without the use of a specific Memory Charm," Lupin said.
"How would a sixteen year old become an uncommonly gifted or accomplished Legilimens?" Mr. Weasley asked.
"Some of it is natural talent," Lupin said, "but most of it is practice. Hundreds upon hundreds of hours of practice. Depending on when Mr. Malfoy began learning Legilimency, it's possible that he could have developed the skill, particularly with the right motivation applied. Say, Lord Voldemort breathing down his neck."
A shudder went through the room.
"Remus, in your professional opinion, does that mean that the entirety of Miss Barrows' testimony is unreliable?" Kingsley asked in a deliberately calm voice.
"It... it is possible, yes," Lupin said uncomfortably. "It might be completely accurate, and it might be... missing some things, misinterpreting others..."
"No!" Kathleen shouted, knocking Lupin's hand off her shoulder. "Listen to me! Ginny flew to Godric's Hollow last night to stop You-Know-Who from getting the Deathstick. I told her I would tell the Order she left, but I- I- I was lying!" She started crying profusely.
Harry caught Hermione's eye. She looked shaken but puzzled; Harry could practically see the gears in her mind turning at these words.
"Godric's Hollow?" Harry said. "Why Godric's Hollow?"
"That's where the ritual had to be done," Kathleen sobbed.
"The ritual?" Kingsley asked, trying to regain some semblance of control over the room. "What ritual?"
"To get the Deathstick."
"Which is...?"
"An unbeatable wand, according to Malfoy," Harry supplied.
Everyone looked around the room. This was sounding more unbelievable by the minute, but no one wanted to say it.
"I think the Deathstick is real," Harry said, saving Kathleen the trouble of speaking further. "Ginny told me she overheard Malfoy and Blaise Zabini talking about it in the library. I told Dumbledore about it, and... he said, it's been handled."
No one seemed to know what to say to this pronouncement. "Did Dumbledore elaborate on that, Harry?" Lupin asked after a long moment.
"No," Harry said. "But if it wasn't real, Dumbledore would have said something."
"Why would she just decide to fly there by herself?" McGonagall asked. "Why wouldn't she tell someone?"
"She did tell someone," Ron said. "She told all of us, at one point or another. You, about Malfoy dancing with her and talking about a weapon-" he nodded at Hermione, "-you, about the Deathstick-" he nodded at Harry, "-and me, about needing to find Harry and Dumbledore yesterday. None of us listened to her, we all ignored it or acted like it was stupid. She told Kathleen the rest, and had no idea she was playing right into Malfoy's hands. Of course she went by herself, she didn't think she had anyone else left."
Hermione was crying now. Harry's face felt hot. How could they have screwed up so badly?
"I want my mum," Kathleen said quietly.
"Of course," said Professor McGonagall. "I'll fetch her." She hurried out of the room.
Mrs. Weasley stood up and came to squat in front of Kathleen.
"Kathleen dear, please know that we don't blame you at all," she said. "You're being so brave, telling us everything now. It's not your fault, sweetheart." Kathleen started sobbing again and threw her arms around Mrs. Weasley, who embraced her tightly.
"Of course it's not your fault," Mr. Weasley said, rising to his feet. "You did the best you could against really advanced magic, being worked by a Death Eater, no less. No one in your shoes could have done any better."
"Where is my daughter?" came an unfamiliar voice. "Let me see her."
A severe-looking woman swept into the room, her light brown hair swept up into an elegant twist. She looked exactly like what Harry imagined Kathleen would look like in twenty years or so. Her blue eyes were sharp and piercing as she looked around the room. She hurried to Kathleen's chair. Mrs. Weasley backed up to give her space as she pulled Kathleen into her arms.
"Mummy, I'm sorry," Kathleen cried. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."
"Shh, shh, it's alright," she said, stroking Kathleen's head. "I'm here now."
"Delia, if we could-"
"That's Mrs. Barrows to you, Auror Shacklebolt," she snapped with surprising venom before standing up. "My daughter is done answering your questions. She has been under an Unforgivable Curse, for months, and not a single staff member figured out there was anything wrong until the goddamn Headmaster was murdered on school grounds. This is a disgrace, though I shouldn't be surprised. Things apparently haven't changed."
"Delia, please," Lupin said. "I understand it's hard for you to be back here-"
"Do you? Do you, Remus, understand what I have risked, coming here today?"
"Delia, a girl is missing-"
"And I'm sorry for it, but my daughter won't be answering any more questions. She has been in danger, for months, and there is apparently no one here fit to protect her. I wish you the best of luck-" she nodded at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, "-but we are leaving. Right now."
"Mum, no-"
"Not another word. Come on, we're packing your things. Headmistress McGonagall, will you escort us please?"
Head bowed, Kathleen stood up, her mother's hand on her arm. "I'm sorry," she murmured to the room before turning to follow the two women out the door.
"What was that all about?" Harry asked once they had left. "What did she mean, what I have risked coming here today?"
Lupin heaved a great sigh. "Cordelia Barrows, née Mulciber, was two years below me in school. Her brother was in my year, and was good friends with such esteemed gentlemen as Charles Avery, Lucius Malfoy, Rabastan Lestrange, and Severus Snape. Her brother and father are Death Eaters, Harry."
Harry looked at Ron and Hermione, equal looks of shock on both of their faces.
"As I understand it," Lupin continued, "Delia ran away as soon as she turned seventeen, married a Muggle, and basically gave up magic for good."
"Ginny was always talking about that," Mrs. Weasley murmured. "About how strict Kathleen's mum was, how she almost didn't get to go to Hogwarts."
"I'm sure it cost Delia a great deal to allow her only child to spend ten months out of the year in the wizarding world, away from her watchful eye- particularly at Hogwarts, where she saw her brother's cruelty be allowed to flourish. You can imagine that the Mulcibers would not take kindly to Kathleen's existence if they were to find out, nor her Muggle father's."
Harry shuddered. "And so the risk she took-"
"Was being recognized here, yes. She has worked very hard to disappear. I would be amazed if she allows Kathleen back to Hogwarts next year."
No one said anything for a long moment.
"Well, Kingsley," said Mr. Weasley. "What do we do now?"
Kingsley looked down at his notes with a furrowed brow. "The memory magic complicates things quite a bit. I would have liked to have confirmed the events with a Ministry-authorized Legilimens, but that will require her mother's permission and I don't think we are likely to get it, particularly based on how Remus described Kathleen's reaction to the idea of Legilimency last night."
"So that's where it doesn't get us," said Mr. Weasley, the patience in his voice straining. "What do we do next?"
"To cover our bases, I'll send an agent to Godric's Hollow, see if they find anything unusual. And I'll obtain a warrant for Malfoy Manor to look for Draco Malfoy- that was on the Ministry's agenda anyway, given what happened with Dumbledore. It should be issued later today. What we find in those two places will tell us what we do next."
Mr. Weasley took a deep breath, rubbing his palms on his pants. "Okay. Okay."
MAY 2nd, 1997
Severus Snape sat in the small sitting room in his home at Spinner's End, his head in his hands and an undrunk glass of firewhisky on the small side table. He wasn't sure how long he had sat here. Too long, probably. Part of him knew he should sleep. Another part of him was unsure he would ever sleep again.
Albus Dumbledore's corpse falling off of the Astronomy Tower played over and over in his mind, the pallid green light illuminating his tired features.
It is a mercy, Severus.
It didn't feel like mercy. It felt like murder. Whatever Dumbledore said about damaged souls and mercy and the heart's true desire, Severus knew he would not forget watching the light leave Dumbledore's eyes, nor the feeling of sickening power leaving his wand as the spell was cast.
It was too much. Too much and not enough at the same time.
I prefer not to put all of my secrets in one basket, particularly not a basket that spends so much time dangling on the arm of Lord Voldemort.
There will come a time- after my death- do not argue, do not interrupt! There will come a time when Lord Voldemort will seem to fear for the life of his snake.
So the boy... the boy must die?
Severus picked up the glass of firewhisky and threw it. The glass shattered against the bookcase, amber liquid spilling over the spines of the books and dripping down the shelf.
It wasn't enough. Dumbledore hadn't told him enough, hadn't trusted him enough. It was like Severus was looking through a grimy window, only able to see bits and pieces of the greater picture.
What was he supposed to do now? It was all very well and good for Dumbledore to say there will come a time, but Severus was the one who had to actually be there when that time came, not to mention all the times in between. Perhaps it would have been fine to wait for the events to reveal themselves, if it were not for the girl.
Severus put his head in his hands again.
If Voldemort were to possess the Hallows, particularly at this stage, that would be disastrous for us all.
She would rather die than betray Harry, or her family... I am certain that Ginny Weasley will never aid Lord Voldemort again.
To focus on Draco Malfoy is to win a battle. To focus on Lord Voldemort is to win the war.
Again, all very well and good for Dumbledore to say when he did not have to be here, did not have to live in the after-effects of said battle.
From where Severus was sitting, Dumbledore had miscalculated. He had protected the Hallows as well as could be expected- no one, not even Albus Dumbledore, would have been able to predict what was tantamount to divine intervention on that account. But he had underestimated Draco's ability to manipulate and overestimated the capabilities of Nymphadora Tonks as a competent bodyguard.
If Lucius Malfoy had been out of the picture, things might have gone differently. Severus had built up a good amount of trust with Draco over the fall term, particularly as they had practiced Occlumency together. But perhaps that too had been a mistake- Draco had taken to Occlumency too well, well enough that once he decided he no longer needed Severus's counsel, Severus was no longer able to learn the details of Draco's plans unless Draco decided to tell him. He could have attacked more directly, forced his way in, but an intrusion of that magnitude would have been noticeable by the Dark Lord and very difficult to explain. Severus had been willing to risk it, willing to make something up, but Dumbledore had cautioned against it, preferring to trust in... what had he called it? Genuine human connection?
Severus let out a mirthless chuckle. Draco Malfoy was selfish, as all Slytherins were at their core. No amount of genuine human connection was going to stop him from saving his own skin, especially not when he had Lucius whispering promises of glory in his ear.
Draco was selfish and arrogant, arrogant to think that the Dark Lord would value Ginny Weasley's life any more than he had Lily's. Lucius could brag all he wanted about Draco's ingenious use of the Imperius Curse on Ginny's friend, but Severus knew that if Draco had suspected Ginny would die in the attempt, he would have struggled significantly more in executing his plans.
It would have been better for her to die in the attempt, though. Through some bizarre twist of fate, Ginny Weasley had acquired the one thing the Dark Lord desired above all others- apparent immortality. As soon as he had left Hogwarts, Severus had been summoned to the Dark Lord's home in Little Hangleton, where he and several other Death Eaters were briefed on the whole unbelievable affair. Rookwood, the slimy creep, had been given the assignment to try to remove this magical gem from Ginny's body. Despite Severus's attempts to have himself appointed instead, he had been shot down, Rookwood citing his experience in the Department of Mysteries as evidence enough of his expertise in the matter.
Dumbledore could not have anticipated this turn of events, but Severus had no doubt that he would have had ideas on what to do once he learned about it, if he were still alive. He recalled their conversation about Trelawney's last fateful prophecy, on Dumbledore's interest in the way the air had changed in the room. It mirrored the Death Eaters' descriptions of what had happened in Godric's Hollow. Could Dumbledore have suspected even then that something... unnatural, something otherworldly, might be involved?
"Why didn't you tell me what to do?" he whispered, anger hot in his face as he felt stubborn tears prick his eyes. He raised his voice, almost to a yell, and repeated, "Why didn't you tell me what to do?"
He could not leave Ginny in the Dark Lord's house, nor could he rescue her- she was not just another prisoner. She was more heavily guarded than even the Dark Lord himself, much more than Sybill Trelawney had been, and even that had been impossible for him to prevent.
We will have to hope that Ginny Weasley has more sense than Lily Potter ever did.
Draco's face, smug and conceited, appeared in his mind, and Severus let out an involuntary snarl of rage. Draco was supposed to succeed where Severus had failed, this was Lily all over again, why did this have to happen, why, why-
He needed to speak to Dumbledore. To yell at him or beg for help or even just be reassured, he didn't know, but he needed to speak to Dumbledore now. He stood up and began ripping books off his shelves, flipping through political commentaries and history books and articles about the twelve uses of Dragon's Blood, looking for a photo, any photo...
In the end, all he was able to find was a battered old Chocolate Frog card, where Dumbledore's portrait smiled serenely at him. Severus, exhausted now, looked bleakly around the chaos of the room, books scattered all over the floor, before collapsing back into his chair.
"Tell me what to do," he said to the Chocolate Frog card, his voice shaking. "Please, Albus. Tell me what to do."
MAY 2nd, 1997
Draco sat against the stone wall of the vault, resting his wrists on his knees. His father sat across from him, legs splayed out in front of him. It was odd to see him sitting like that when he was normally so proper, so self-contained.
"Why the bloody hell did you release the Imperius Curse?" Lucius asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. Draco realized he often unconsciously mimicked the gesture when he was irritated. "You could have had a spy at Hogwarts at your disposal."
"Isn't the Dark Lord going to take over Hogwarts soon?" Draco asked. "I thought that was the whole point of killing Dumbledore. Why would I want a spy at Hogwarts?"
"The Dark Lord killed Dumbledore because he was the only wizard alive powerful enough to oppose him," Lucius said, removing his hand from his face. "Gaining the school was a collateral victory."
"Still- no need for a spy."
Lucius sighed dramatically. "Still, it was wasteful and reckless to let her go like that. You can't tell me you intended for the Ministry to interview her."
"What does it matter that they interviewed her? I've already outed myself as a Death Eater, half the school saw me running away right next to Aunt Bella. I hid some of the girl's memories, twisted others. The Ministry won't find anything useful."
"Look at you. Don't let your success make you arrogant, Draco. You're still capable of making mistakes."
"Oh I'm very well aware of that fact, thank you Father."
Lucius curled his lip, unused to being sassed by his usually-obedient son. "I've told you, there's no way any of us could have predicted-"
"Can you just let me be angry about it, please? I will be in perfect form for dinner, I promise."
Lucius said nothing, though he looked at Draco like he had never seen him before. Draco turned his head away, done with the conversation.
He had slept for a bit, finally, after his mother had visited him this morning. Not well, not enough, but it was all he could manage. True to his word, he had released his hold on Kathleen before finally passing out. It had felt like releasing a tightly held fist after a long, long time, achey and pleasant all at once.
His mind was constantly filled with thoughts of Ginny, fruitless as those thoughts were. What kind of "testing" was she undergoing? Testing the gem? Surely the Dark Lord could find a way to remove it... but would that then mean that he would kill Ginny, her purpose served? It seemed likely, given how he had reacted in Godric's Hollow. If that was the case, it was better for Ginny to keep the gem inside her... assuming it wasn't dangerous. Draco didn't know what the hell it was, and it seemed the Dark Lord didn't either. What if it was toxic somehow, or exacted some toll for each time it saved Ginny's life?
He sighed. As had been the theme for the past year, he didn't have enough information. All he knew was that the literal hand of Death had reached into the world and fucked everything up. Would the Dark Lord have tried to kill Ginny if the gem hadn't made an appearance? Draco wasn't sure, and wasn't at all willing to bet on it at this point, but he somehow thought not. He had watched the memory enough times now- the Dark Lord had been ecstatic, gleeful, triumphant, up until the moment the gem had appeared. If that hadn't happened, things likely would have gone more according to plan.
What did it matter now though? Things hadn't gone according to plan. There was no use dwelling on some fantasy reality where they had. In this reality, the only one that mattered, Ginny was trapped in the Dark Lord's manor, under every protection known to wizard-kind. She might as well have been on the moon. He had entertained thoughts off and on all day of staging some daring rescue mission, but every time he imagined it, the memory of the Dark Lord's face as he had ripped into Draco's mind filled his vision. The coldness, the malice, the cruel delight was etched into his memory like an ugly scar that wouldn't heal. He could barely manage the thought of having dinner in the same room as the Dark Lord- trying to break Ginny out of what amounted to a maximum security prison right under the Dark Lord's nose felt like a glorified suicide mission.
Faint voices from the corridor outside echoed against the stones. Draco thought he could hear his mother's voice. Perhaps the Aurors were finally done with their search.
"They sure took their sweet time," Lucius muttered, apparently noticing the same thing. "If you hadn't had the sense to alert me first thing this morning about that damned Imperius, I might not have had time to make the house... presentable."
Draco struggled not to roll his eyes. "This'll be the third time in the last year that the Ministry has raided the manor- I assumed they'd found everything that's out in the open by now."
"They had, but seeing as I had no reason to suspect that they would ever return, I saw no reason not to make myself at home. We're lucky that your mother was able to stall them at the gates."
Long enough to hide anything suspicious. Long enough to hide any evidence of the two men's presence. As far as the Ministry was concerned, Narcissa Malfoy lived alone in a great empty house.
Footsteps echoed outside the arched door to Draco's right.
"Sanctimonia Vincet Semper," his mother whispered. The edges of the doorway glowed with old magic, and Draco knew his mother's hand was pressed to the door, which blended right into the wall, on the other side. After a moment, the door faded away, recognizing Narcissa's claim to the room as a Malfoy.
"They're gone," she said as Draco and Lucius rose to their feet. "They didn't find anything."
"Good," said Lucius, dusting off his pants. The vault stored all manner of Dark artifacts not fit for the public eye, but seeing as only someone of the Malfoy family could enter, it was quite dusty- Tilly had never set foot down here, nor had any of her ancestors.
"Thank you Mother," Draco said, stretching a bit. They really had been down there quite a long time.
"Of course, darling," she said. "You should go get ready for dinner now- we only have a couple hours, and we can't be late."
"Wouldn't want to be late to my own party," he said sardonically as he went up the stairs. He saw his parents exchange a look.
"I'll be good," he called over his shoulder. "I promise."
Up the stairs he went, crossing through most of the ground floor before reaching the main stairway. The sun was low in the sky, casting a beautiful orange glow over the gardens down below. Draco smiled grimly as he remembered his mother promising him a walk in the gardens last night- how different the day had turned out to be.
He trudged up the stairs to the third floor, his feet set on an automatic path for his room. More than anything, he needed a bath. A bath, and time to sort his brain out.
He eased the door to his room open and dully observed that Tilly had changed the sheets. Of course- his mother had likely had to show his empty, unused room to the Aurors as proof that he hadn't returned here last night.
It was a comfortable space, with a bank of tall windows on the far wall, broken only by his wardrobe directly across from his bed. Deep mahogany floors gave the room a stately appearance, while a plush cream carpet at the foot of the bed lended warmth to the space. There was a standing floor-length mirror in the corner closest to the adjoining bathroom, while the opposite wall was lined with bookshelves.
Draco sighed as he looked at his bed. The crisp white sheets looked inviting and lovely, but it would be hours yet before he could rest.
Isn't that a familiar thought? So much for being able to rest now that I'm home.
He stripped off his robes as he slid out of his shoes, kicking them off carelessly. Once they hit the floor, they disappeared, making their way down to Tilly in the scullery. Some Malfoy ancestor had charmed all the bedrooms this way in order to avoid accidentally passing clothes to the elves. His robe met the same fate, followed by his shirt, trousers, and boxers.
The scars on his torso caught his attention as he passed the mirror. He stopped to look at them, tracing the one that laid right over his heart. If Snape hadn't acted quickly, he certainly would have died. He realized now that he had never actually thanked him. Maybe now that they were away from Hogwarts, he could.
There would be time for that later, though. Tonight, Draco was going to have to Occlude as he never had before. Not only could he not show weariness or resentment to the Dark Lord or the other Death Eaters, he needed to be happy. A victor, as his mother had called him. He needed to be happy, and it needed to be believable.
He turned on the taps of the bath, taking a moment to relish the luxury here that wasn't readily available at Hogwarts. The tub was massive, big enough that he could float in it if he wanted, and had over a dozen different taps with soaps and potions for any grooming need he could think of. The water was always the right temperature, that perfect edge right before being too hot.
He let the tub fill up, turning on a couple of the taps to add scent to the water. His favorite was one he couldn't quite name, but it was crisp and clean with just a hint of pine, perhaps like mountain air. He slipped into the water with a sigh. His muscles sang in relief as the heat began to soak in. He had time before the party. He could luxuriate in this feeling while he locked himself away.
Once the tub was full, he turned off the taps and let himself float to the surface. He let himself savor the weightlessness here, the way his muscles ever so slowly loosened in response. He closed his eyes, took a deep, careful breath, and willed his mind to the sea.
He was floating here too, out in the water. The sea was calm, and the waves buffeted gently against him on their way to the shore. He willed his muscles to relax, starting at his head and moving slowly downward, spending extra time on his neck and shoulders, where he carried tension. He wasn't sure this would work, but he didn't see any reason why it wouldn't. What was the self except for a collection of memories and experiences, anyway?
Blaise's words came to mind. I know you. Both the face you show the world and the one you have when you think no one's looking.
The words had stayed with him since that night, not only because of Blaise's sentiment but because of the way he had phrased it. In a place like Hogwarts, it was safe to switch between these two parts of himself as he pleased. The same was true at home, more or less. But Draco the Death Eater could only have one face.
You have to stay here for now. It's not safe for you to come out. I'll come back for you in a few hours. Let the water protect you. Mother and Father will be safer if you stay here.
Slowly, he became aware of... himself? But it was like this version of himself was a little younger, a little smaller. It fit inside his nearly-adult body.
You can go. You'll be safe here. The water will protect you.
This younger self started to sink into the ocean. It was the most peculiar feeling, like he was falling and floating at the same time. He was sinking and watching himself sink, splitting apart inside his own mind.
He watched his younger self sink deeper and deeper. Right before the depths of the ocean swallowed him, his younger self whispered, Be careful.
Always.
It was done. Like an invisible wall in his mind, separating the two. Or maybe an invisible floor was more accurate. This hidden part - the one you have when you think no one's looking- was like the foundation, underpinning everything, but hidden beneath the waves. Anyone looking would only see a Death Eater floating on the sea.
Slowly, he pulled back to his body, back to his physical surroundings. He put his feet down, sitting up in the tub.
He felt... the same? And yet different. He knew, somehow, that he would be able to get through tonight. His nerves, his anger and fear and sadness, were packed away, so far from his conscious face that he knew they would be invisible to onlookers. He could feel them alone, in the dark, where it was safe. But for now, they didn't exist.
He drained the bath and reached for a towel, savoring its plush softness. He caught sight of his Dark Mark in the vanity mirror and, for the first time, he didn't flinch.
Hello again! Lots of notes this time.
First scene: Augustus Rookwood, one of Voldemort's Death Eaters, wakes Ginny up from her dream/vision about Alys. He is polite and professional, at odds with the scenario at hand. Ginny is in the same place Voldemort left her. Rookwood explains that he used to be an Unspeakable in the Death Room at the Department of Mysteries, and that Voldemort has tasked him with figuring out what's going on with the gem. He uses Avada Kedavra, Cruciatus, and a knife in order to do so. The same rules apply here- fatal attacks are blocked by a golden shield of light, while non-fatal pain or wounds are unaffected. Ginny despairs at the end, knowing she is trapped.
This scene draws inspiration from the television show Motherland: Fort Salem, particularly Season 2, Episode 7: Irrevocable. It's a great show about badass witches, you should check it out!
A few select quotes in Snape's scene are drawn from Chapter 33: The Prince's Tale from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.
A lot happened in this 24 hours for these characters! And we've still got the Death Eater party to go.