Eight: Lines in blood
As usual, Ginny claimed her usual place next to Astoria in Potions. Colin still looked a bit disappointed whenever she did that, but she was hardly going to abandon Astoria in one of the two classes they shared. She wished Astoria had taken up either Muggle Studies or Care for Magical Creatures, but she'd declared those two to be very unfashionable, unlike Runes, which she intended to take up to her N.E.W.T's, and Divination, which she had proclaimed to be absolutely hilarious.
Slughorn beamed at the two of them as they were preparing their equipment, giving Ginny two points for 'having such a gleaming cauldron' and Astoria two for 'such precision in arranging her tools'.
"Are those Slug Club bonus points?" Ginny asked her friend.
"I'm not complaining. We'll meet in the Room an hour in advance?"
"An hour? Just to try on a dress?" Ginny asked in disbelief.
"And to do your hair," Astoria added.
Ginny would have protested, but Slughorn chose that moment to launch into an explanation of the Strengthening Solution. Both of them wrote down his instructions and while Slughorn talked too fast to keep up, he interspersed his lecture with enough pointless anecdotes that allowed them to catch up as he droned on about crystallised pineapple, dinners with his good friend Barnabas Cuffe and a Muggle sport called golf he enjoyed playing with Rufus Scrimgeour, before he became Minister of course.
It was a relief, really, when they finally got to the brewing proper. You'd almost begin to miss Snape. Almost, but not quite. As Ginny powdered the griffin claw, imagining it was Nott's face this time around, she realised she actually understood what she was doing and why. If it stayed like this, she might actually grow to like Potions.
"So, Tori," she said. "Why do we need to do my hair for a simple dinner party."
"Because you'll look great," Astoria said, holding up the vial to the light to measure the quantity of Salamander blood.
"I thought such occasions served to let our hair down," Ginny remarked, swiping the powder together and fighting the urge to sneeze.
"Oh ha-ha. I'd really hoped the famed Weasley wit had been restricted to your… to Fred and George," Astoria amended. Ginny suspected she'd meant to say something else and appreciated the effort.
She and Ron hide behind one of the large tanks, barely daring to breathe as the Death Eaters sweep the room, the light at the tip of their wands casting long shadows. Ron's expression is one of utmost concentration as levitates the tank in the far corner towards them, floating high and noiselessly through the room.
The tall one, Ginny thinks it's Rabastan, only notices it when a dark shadow falls over him. His companion – Jugson? - only notices it when the tank comes crashing down on their heads. The glass shatters, liquid and brains alike pouring over them. One of the brain extends its tentacles and begins to attach itself to Rabastan's mask. Ginny looks away in disgust.
"Behold, the benefits of using your brain," Ron declares with a broad gesture of his arm..
"It's, 'using your head', Ron," Ginny reminds him. He sighs.
"I know Ginny, but as there were no tanks with heads around, I had to get creative," he says and laughs again even as she tries to remember what door they'd come through.
It was the last time she'd heard him laugh, she realised. For good measure, she grinds the griffin claw some more.
"I think it's already dead, Ginny," Astoria said as she gently pried the pestle from her hand and brushed the powder into the potion. "You alright?"
"Yeah. Just… just memories," she said and Astoria gave her a knowing look.
"Those can be tricky," she said as she stirred the potion, leaning back to keep the fumes out of her face. "Good memories, or bad ones?"
"A bit of both," she said, refraining from further explanation when Slughorn approached them.
"This looks promising, well done ladies," Slughorn remarked, leaning over and letting the fumes wash over him, giving a rather brilliant sheen to his forehead. "Smells like it should too. You're both coming tonight, yes?"
"Of course, Professor," Astoria said.
"Wouldn't want to miss it," Ginny chimed in.
"Excellent," Slughorn said. "Are you allergic to anything?"
"Boring dinner partners?" Astoria offered with a guileless smile that Ginny knew she must have spent practicing in front of a mirror for days, if not weeks.
"Then you need not worry, Miss Greengrass," Slughorn said, chuckling indulgently before he moved on to the next pair.
"What?" Astoria said as Ginny gave her an amused look.
"Keep that up, and you might become his new favourite," she teased.
"Hardly. I'll never reach your levels of fame, fortunately, and at the end of the day, that's all he cares for. But if I amuse him enough, he might put Zabini at the end of the table for me," she said as she moved the cauldron off the heat. "And now we're supposed to let it simmer for a few days, so I guess that means no Potions class for anyone until Wednesday."
"I'm pretty sure he'll just store them somewhere, Tori," Ginny said.
"In that case I hope he stores Harper's cauldron upside down," Astoria said, pointing at their housemate who had yet again brewed the perfect potion and had earned ten points in the process.
"I thought you ditched him because he was terrible at Potions?" Ginny asked.
"Right, I said that," Astoria said, biting her lip. "Guess our chemistry was just off," she declared, earning her a scoff from Ginny. "What? Oh. Oooooh. Chemistry. Potions. Ha," she snorted. "Guess we're both hopeless cases."
"Guess we are," Ginny agreed as they both left the classroom and headed for charms.
Even if Ginny wasn't feeling the dinner, the Room of Requirement certainly was. For the occasion, it had turned into a dressing room of Malfoyesque proportions. One wall was just one big mirror, a second was all coat racks and coat hangers, the third had three dressers and what could only be described as a pile of makeup, as well as the gramophone, this time playing a record by The Hobgoblins. And in the middle of it all stood Ginny in what was without a doubt the most expensive dress she'd ever worn, an emerald green cocktail dress with such a tight waistline that Ginny was surprised Astoria's parents had signed off on it. Her mum would have never allowed it, that much was for sure. She still remembered their discussions prior to the Yule ball in her third year.
Studying herself in the mirror, she angled her body so she could get a better look at its back. It was open. Very open. She turned back to the front and wondered if it didn't show too much there as well. A few scars had spread as far as the middle of her chest, just visible in the dress.
"You don't like it," Astoria declared, sitting in a chair on the side.
"No. Yes. It's beautiful, Tori, I mean it. But I'm just not sure if it's me," she admitted, feeling awful about it. Astoria had gone through all this trouble to lend her this beautiful, expensive dress and here she was, being ungrateful.
"Why wouldn't it be 'you'?" Astoria asked as she got up and walked to her.
"Because, well it's… Forget it, it's stupid. Let's go to the party," she said, but Astoria gently took her arm.
"We'd be half an hour early. Also, I still need to change," Astoria said with a gesture at an equally beautiful black dress that dangled from a coat hanger. "Really, what's the problem, Ginny?"
"It's just… this dress is…" Pretty. Unblemished. "Better suited to someone else. You should wear it instead."
"It looks gorgeous on you, Ginny. It brings out your hair and your eyes," Astoria said, pulling her closer to the mirror.
It just made her see her scars better. The large veinlike pattern covering the whole right half of her face, looping around her right eye and mouth, but otherwise they ran straight from her hairline to her neck until they disappeared down her dress, resurfacing on her bare right arm all the way to the back of her hand and on her lower leg down to the nail on her big toe. And then the dress still obscured half of it.
"And the scars. It brings out the scar" she muttered sadly.
"The scars don't matter," Astoria said.
"Don't they?" Ginny asked, trying not to scream at her friend but Merlin, it was difficult. "My whole right side is a patchwork. The little kids at King's Cross were scared of me. The big kids and the adults too. Half the school still won't look at me and it's been a week. And can you blame them? I look like Moody!"
"You don't look like Moody," Astoria shushed her.
Ginny rounded on her, the anger must have been clear in her eyes because Astoria involuntarily took a step back. But before Ginny could say anything, Astoria put her hand on Ginny's shoulder and squeezed it, the movement so like her mum that Ginny's tirade died on her lips.
"You don't look like Moody. You look like Ginny Weasley. My friend. Star Quidditch player. D.A. leader. One of the few brave enough to stand up against Voldemort. And anyone worth their salt can see that. Those scars are just on the surface, but what they represent, what they say about you, that goes all the way down to the core. And that deserves to be seen," Astoria said. "So I'd say it's the perfect dress for you, really."
Ginny looked at her reflection again, not even bothering to angle her face. To her, the scars looked as horrible as ever. She wasn't entirely sure she fully believed Astoria either. At the end of the day it was easy for her to wax poetically and support her friend. Ginny didn't doubt Astoria had meant every word, truly meant it, but at the end of the day, she wasn't the one with scars. Ginny was. But she wanted to believe her, at least. It made it more bearable. And the dress was beautiful.
Harry pulls up next to her as they are running through the Hall of Prophecies. Behind them, the turmoil of a hundred prophecies unleashed reverberates, snippets of screams and spellfire cutting through it occasionally.
They round a corner and come to a skidding halt as they almost barge into a very surprised looking Death Eater. He raises his wand, but Ginny's faster and knees him in the groin. As he doubles over, she shoots a stunner into him.
"Nice work, Gin. I'm glad you're here," Harry says as they take off again.
She wished Harry could have seen her in this dress.
"Alright, I'm wearing it," she announced, a set in her jaw.
Astoria gave her a searching look, but whatever she wanted to see, she clearly found.
"Yes, I think you are."
They were the last to arrive and it was all Astoria's fault. Her dress, a beautiful black A-Line, hadn't taken much time to put on, and the updos she insisted they both got had been fixed after about ten minutes of spellwork Ginny had never heard of. But then Astoria had spent twenty minutes agonising about her jewellery, before eventually settling on her usual silver bracelets with swirling runes that she still refused to translate for Ginny, as well as a silver sautoir with a three-pointed star pendant. At least she'd managed to talk Astoria out of her heels, which would have been both wildly excessive and slowed them down even more. And just when Ginny had been sure they'd been finally done, Astoria had insisted that not only Ginny took a picture of her - Mother would love it - but also that she took a picture of Ginny. Ginny suspected a more defiant look had never been captured by Astoria's camera
But rather than being upset, Slughorn just beamed at them as they rounded the corner, having slowed down for the last part so they wouldn't arrive winded.
"Miss Weasley, Miss Greengrass, you both look wonderful, really. See, this is what I was hoping for with my invitation," he said as they stepped inside his office, where the other five students were already gathered around the table.
Slughorn had not spared any trouble for the occasion. Candles floated around the room, lending an intimate atmosphere to the gathering. The large round table at the centre was already well-supplied with appetisers, butterbeer and quite a few drinks she wasn't entirely sure the other teachers would approve of being served to students.
The first thing she noticed was that Slughorn's old house was well-represented. In addition to Astoria, there was Zabini, as well as two seventh-year Slytherin girls whose name she couldn't remember for the life of it. At least Harper's Potions brilliance hadn't earned him an invitation yet. The only other Gryffindor in attendance was - she had to resist the urge to groan out loud - Cormac McLaggen, who looked to be rather appreciative of Astoria's outfit. Seventh-year Ravenclaw Eddie Carmichael was also there, but not a single Hufflepuff. Ginny vaguely remembered Carmichael as that one Ravenclaw who had tried to fence some kind of brain tonic to distressed O.W.L. students, before Hermione had put a stop to it with her usual decisiveness.
"Hermione, can you take a look at Ginny? Dolohov hit her with a curse," Harry says as he lowers her onto one of the benches.
Hermione is next to her in a second, crouching down and muttering under her breath as she casts a few spells and takes her pulse. Ginny's breathing grows less laboured, but that's about it.
"Did you hear what incantation he used?" she asks and Ginny can see the worry written across her face.
"No," she coughs. A few levels down, Harry sits next to Ron who has a mean-looking cut running across his face.
"Hmm, I don't recognise it either. Maybe if Umbridge had been less useless," Hermione muttered.
"Am I going to die?" Ginny asks, feeling like she is freezing and burning up at the same time.
"Don't be ridiculous," Hermione says with such conviction that Ginny can't do anything but believe her. She mutters another spell and the worst of the tremors fade.
Ginny and Astoria ended up to the left of Slughorn, she directly next to him and Astoria at her side. He must have saved those spots for the two of them. She couldn't help but smile victoriously at Zabini, who was seated quite a bit further away. Unfortunately, McLaggen was seated on his right and looked ready to engage her and Astoria in a discussion that would no doubt focus on Quidditch, Cormac McLaggen and how good Cormac McLaggen was at Quidditch.
A bottle of butterbeer and two carafes, one with red wine and one with white wine, floated towards her and hung expectantly in the air. Ginny pointed at the butterbeer, which poured itself into her glass. Next came several bowls of appetisers.
"So, Miss Weasley, Miss Greengrass, as you missed the first occasion, I think it's only proper if we do a quick roundtable," Slughorn said. Already chewing on a piece of bread, she just nodded in response.
As it turned out, everyone there was special one way or the other, as Slughorn subtly, or not so subtly, pointed out. McLaggen's uncle was someone important in the Ministry, Zabini's mother was very beautiful, the twins were identified as Hestia and Flora Carrow, though Ginny didn't quite get what was so important about them. Eddie Carmichael, finally, apparently was a brilliant student, brain tonic or not, and in the process of being headhunted by the Unspeakables.
It didn't get much better after that, though the food at least did. Rich dishes usually reserved for special occasions followed each other in quick succession, ranging from a lobster Ginny had no idea how to eat – she ended up just copying what Astoria did – to some kind of magical creature she'd thought extinct. At least it provided a distraction from Slughorn's inane questioning that seemed designed to portray everyone in the best light. At least there was a brief moment of entertainment when a slightly inebriated McLaggen revealed that Zabini's mother was very good at marrying people who just so happened to die quickly thereafter. Slughorn quickly changed the topic but in a way that you'd hardly notice. After that, the carafes no longer floated past McLaggen, just the pitcher with water.
All throughout it, Ginny tried to nod and laugh at all the right moments. Astoria was much better at it of course; she batted her eyelashes at all the right times and Slughorn was basically eating out of her hand by the end of the evening. Still, Ginny felt she'd acquitted herself well for a blood traitor who was consistently ignored by half of the guests – Zabini and the Carrows- and who consistently tried to ignore McLaggen. At least Carmichael was moderately entertaining, he reminded her of her brother Bill in a way, only a bit more normal. Perhaps that was the Ravenclaw factor at work.
Slughorn had also risen in her estimation. He was an influence peddler without a doubt, but the way he smoothed over any potential awkwardness, even between her and Zabini, was an art in its own. As was his gift for dancing around what had had happened last June. It made for an almost normal evening. If this was high society, she thought she could get used to it.
She and Astoria were the last to leave, and after having thanked Slughorn profusely once more for the invitation, they left. Once they were sure they were out of earshot, they both burst out laughing.
"Merlin, that was beautiful. Did you see Zabini's face after McLaggen's jibe?" Astoria giggled. "I thought he was going to have an apoplexy right then and there."
"My favourite moment was when McLaggen dunked his elbow in the mayonnaise bowl," Ginny added, wiping tears from her eyes. "Okay, I will admit this was more fun than I'd expected. Though I might need a class on how to eat lobster first."
"You did look a bit uncomfortable," Astoria said. "I hope I wasn't eating too fast for you to mimic my movements?"
"You noticed that?"
"Ginny, you cast furtive glances at my hands every five seconds. Of course I noticed. I don't think I've ever eaten lobster quite this slowly, but I didn't want to risk whatever disaster might ensue if you missed a step. Eating lobster is almost as dangerous as brewing a potion," she said, struggling to keep a straight face.
"Thanks Tori," Ginny said.
"Anytime. Anyway, I'm off to bed, I'm spent. Smiling all the time is exhausting," she admitted.
"I'll give you the dress back tomorrow," Ginny promised.
"That's alright, I don't need it anytime soon anyway. Goodnight Ginny."
"Goodnight Tori," Ginny said and they both went their way, Astoria almost floating over the ground.
Her head was still swimming with memories of an evening unlike any other as her feet led her through the hallways of Hogwarts with the familiarity of more than four years. Tonight had been fun. Simple fun, without concern for the war or the dead. Even her scars had felt almost invisible.
Until shadows detached themselves from the walls and became people.
Harry takes the orb and none of the horrible scenarios she has considered manifest themselves. Instead, it's worse.
"Thank you, Potter. Now, if you'd be so kind as to hand it over?" a voice says. A voice she's had nightmares about almost as much as she's had about Tom. Lucius Malfoy, the man personally responsible for the horror that was her first year.
She turns around and slowly the shadows become people, all in black cloaks and with faces obscured by white masks crafted to inspire fear. They do their job well, all thirteen of them. Yet her eyes inevitably find their way back to their spokesperson.
"If you do, no one needs to get hurt. If you don't, well, let's not even consider that particular piece unpleasantry, shall we?" Malfoy suggests, his voice smooth.
She wants to hex him, every bone in her body is calling out to her to do it. He took her first year from her and replaced it with a jagged memory that still cuts into her mind whenever she gives it even the smallest of openings. She wishes she could claim it is deference to Harry that stays her hand, but it is something uglier. Fear.
A scream was already forming in her throat, her palms sweaty and her heart accelerating, but then she recognised Harper and Nott. Junior, not Senior. Zabini appeared from a side corridor as well, twirling his wand in his hand, a grease stain from the dinner still on the hem of his robe. Malice was written across their faces. She was outnumbered three to one and they were planning to hurt her, and still she was grateful, grateful that they weren't the ghosts from her nightmares. Grateful that they weren't called Dolohov, Malfoy or Lestrange.
"Fancy seeing you here," she said, taking a few steps back, anything to create distance as she weighed her options. There was no Harry to give orders anymore. Could she scream? Yes. Would anyone but these three hear it? Doubtful.
"I told you this wasn't over yet, Weasley," Zabini said, taking his place next to Harper and Nott. "We'll make you regret what you did."
"Because of you, my father is in Azkaban," Nott said.
"I'm quite sure that was mostly Dumbledore's work. Harry helped too I guess," she said. If Harry could break Nott Senior's nose, she was sure she could do the same to Junior.
"It's your fault !" he screamed, taking a step closer. "I'm all alone in the manor and my father's tormented by dementors!" She almost felt sorry for him. "Because you didn't have the decency to die, you filthy blood traitor. But soon my father will be free, and you'll be begging for your life again. When The Dark Lord takes Hogwarts, your time will come." Almost, but not quite.
They really thought she was scared. Nott didn't even have his wand out, too busy ranting, fully convinced she'd just stand there frozen with fear as they took turns monologuing. Had no one bothered to tell them what had happened at the Department of Mysteries? Good for her at least.
She whipped out her wand hurled a stunner at Zabini, too surprised to conjure a shield. He tumbled backwards as the other two just gaped at her. Nott finally drew his wand.
"You were saying, Nott?" she asked innocently, twirling her wand between her fingers.
"You'll pay for that, Weasley," Nott snarled, eyes narrowing.
"Yeah, you've been saying that a lot," she said, following it up with another volley of spells.
The two Slytherins ducked and returned fire. Ginny didn't bother identifying the spells. She ducked to the side and as she rose from her crouch launched into a spell chain.
"Stupefy. Reducto. Protego." The last one was only just in time to block Nott's diffindo.
The walls lit up with flashes as they traded spells. It made such a ruckus it was hard to believe no one would hear it. But no one came running around the corner, or broke up the fight. They just kept jinxing, hexing and cursing. A purple curse that hummed as it sailed past her head. Harper stumbled as her return Impedimenta hit him in the chest, but before she could follow up, Nott's stunner forced her to duck. A conjured snake slithered towards her and briefly, she wished she was still a Parselmouth. She conjured a bird that swooped down and carried the hissing serpent off. Harper ducked as it flew past, giving her another opening.
"Flipendo!" she screamed, putting all her frustration of the past week in a single spell.
Harper got his shield up, but the jinx slammed through it and carried him across the hallway in a crumpled heap. She turned towards Nott, expecting to find to hesitation. Except he was smiling, as was the curse coming her way.
A diffindo cut open her left cheek. Blood trickled down. She brushed it aside before it could land on Astoria's dress, then numbly stared at her smeared hand.
Her brother Ron is choking on blood, scratching at his neck as he sinks to his knees. Hermione is casting one spell after another, but Ron just turns bluer and bluer.
"While I don't want to rush you, Potter, I don't think he has much time left," Malfoy drawls.
The knockback jinx takes him full in the chest, blowing him down the set of stairs. Hermione just stands there, wand pointed at Malfoy as the other two Death Eaters look on in surprise. Ron is breathing normally again.
"Was that the countercurse you meant?" Hermione asks.
Malfoy pulls off his mask and tosses it aside. His nose is broken, blood dripping down his face.
"I think we have reached the limit of negotiations for now. Kill them," he commands.
'Kill him,' she could hear Tom whispering in her ear, hissing sounds intermingling with promises to destroy her enemies if only she would let him back in. They tried to hurt her. They deserved to die. And he could show her how.
"See, that's better. Now your face is almost symmetrical again," Nott sneered.
He launched another curse that she batted aside, taking out one torch. The shadows grew deeper.
"You're a good for nothing blood traitor, Weasley. The Girl Who Survived, ha!" he said, throwing another spell her way. It narrowly missed her and had her stumbling back. It was almost impossible to make out what Nott was saying as Tom's demands grew louder and louder. And part of her just wanted to give in.
"You just got lucky, Weasley and now you think you're all that. But I'll put you back in your place." His next hex exploded against her shield, a thousand fiery sparks lighting up the hallway.
"And when the Dark Lord comes to the castle, we'll make sure Dolohov lends us a hand."
And suddenly Nott looked a lot like Dolohov.
'That's right,' Tom whispered.
"Pleaga!" she yelled, weaving a figure eight in the air with her wand.
Something rippled through the air. A wave too large to dodge. Nott shielded, his eyes for the first time showing something more than disdain. It didn't matter. The wave just crashed through it and over him, his whole body shimmering as if he was underwater. Nott himself looked as if he was drowning, his face frozen in agony. Then the spell swept past him and Nott just stood there, swaying with a thousand little bleeding cuts covering his face and hands. His wand fell from his hand, landing with a clatter on the floor. Then he collapsed.
Ginny was panting, exhausted. She didn't know where the incantation had come from. All she knew was that a part of her was smiling contently. The Tom part. What had she done?
"One moment Lucius," Rookwood interrupts, sounding far too calm and reasonable for a man who spent the last fifteen years or so in Azkaban. "The girl shows promise," he remarks as he pulls Malfoy back up and then takes off his mask, revealing a pockmarked face and a scraggly beard.
"Hermione Granger, was it?" he asks, sounding so polite. "I've heard you're clever. Clever people don't need to die here, tonight. If you just give us the prophecy, I can show you knowledge you can only dream of. I can help you look into the dark heart of magic and its old eyes of wisdom," he proselytises and just like that, Ginny can see what form Azkaban's madness has taken in Rookwood. A fire burns behind his eyes, not of determination but madness, an all-consuming fire that devours. Hermione can see it too and just scoffs.
"How disappointing," Rookwood pouts. "My earlier objections are withdrawn, Lucius. Pleaga," he says, still in that tone as if he were talking about the weather. His wand forms a figure eight in the air and something terrible ripples towards Hermione.
She had used a Death Eater's curse on a student. She could have killed him. She may have killed him. She sprinted towards Nott and pressed her ear against his chest. It was still moving, his breathing a bit laboured and his heartbeat weaker than it probably should be, but at least it was still there.
That was of course when Snape turned around the corner.
"In my defence, it was three on one," Ginny blurted out.
And then she started laughing. She didn't know why, but she couldn't stop, not even when her laughs turned into tears and she had sunken to the knees, gripping herself tightly.
Snape surveyed the scene and then pulled out his wand. For an instant, Ginny thought he was going to hex her. Instead, he just conjured a beautiful silver doe and instructed it to find Madam Pomfrey. That done, he pulled her along, without saying a word but his eyes promising pain and detention beyond compare. And as she was dragged away from the scene, she suddenly realised her right arm hadn't shook a single time during the fight.