AUGUST 1st, 1997
"Come on, I think we ought to keep moving," said Hermione.
Harry, hidden under the new Invisibility Cloak Hermione had purchased for them, followed along behind her and Ron, back up the side street and onto the main road again, where a group of men on the opposite side was singing and weaving across the pavement.
"Just as a matter of interest, why Tottenham Court Road?" Ron asked Hermione.
"I've no idea, it just popped into my head, but I'm sure we're safer out in the Muggle world, it's not where they'll expect us to be."
"True," said Ron, looking around, "but don't you feel a bit– exposed?"
"Where else is there?" asked Hermione, cringing as the men on the other side of the road started wolf-whistling at her. "We can hardly book rooms at the Leaky Cauldron, can we? And Grimmauld Place is out if Snape can get in there… I suppose we could try my parents' house, though I think there's a chance they might check there… Oh, I wish they'd shut up!"
"All right, darling?" the drunkest of the men on the other pavement was yelling. "Fancy a drink? Ditch ginger and come and have a pint!"
"Let's sit down somewhere," Hermione said hastily as Ron opened his mouth to shout back across the road. "Look, this will do, in here!"
It was a small and shabby all-night cafe. A light layer of grease lay on all the Formica-topped tables, but it was at least empty. Harry slipped into a booth first and Ron sat next to him opposite Hermione, who had her back to the entrance and did not like it: She glanced over her shoulder so frequently she appeared to have a twitch. Harry did not like being stationary; walking had given the illusion that they had a goal. Beneath the Cloak– which, he thought angrily, was quite a poor substitute for his own– he could feel the last vestiges of Polyjuice leaving him, his hands returning to their usual length and shape. The fictional Weasley cousin Barny was no more. He pulled his glasses out of his pocket and put them on again.
After a minute or two, Ron said, "You know, we're not far from the Leaky Cauldron here, it's only in Charing Cross–"
"Ron, we can't!" said Hermione at once.
"Not to stay there, but to find out what's going on!"
"We know what's going on! Voldemort's taken over the Ministry, what else do we need to know?"
"Okay, okay, it was just an idea!"
They relapsed into a prickly silence. The gum-chewing waitress shuffled over and Hermione ordered two cappuccinos: As Harry was invisible, it would have looked odd to order him one. Three burly workmen entered the cafe and squeezed into the next booth. Hermione dropped her voice to a whisper.
"I say we find a quiet place to Disapparate and head for the countryside. Once we're there, we could send a message to the Order."
"Can you do that talking Patronus thing, then?" asked Ron.
"I've been practicing and I think so," said Hermione.
"Well, as long as it doesn't get them into trouble, though they might've been arrested already. God, that's revolting," Ron added after one sip of the foamy, grayish coffee. The waitress had heard; she shot Ron a nasty look as she shuffled off to take the new customers' orders. The largest of the workmen, who was blond and quite huge, now that Harry came to look at him, waved her away. She stared, affronted.
"Let's get going, then, I don't want to drink this muck," said Ron. "Hermione, have you got any Muggle money to pay for this?"
"Yes, I took out all my Building Society savings before I came to the Burrow. I'll bet all the change is at the bottom," sighed Hermione, reaching for her beaded bag.
The three workmen made identical movements, and Harry mirrored them without conscious thought: They drew their wands. Ron, a few seconds late in realizing what was going on, lunged across the table, pushing Hermione sideways onto her bench. The force of the Death Eaters' spells shattered the tiled wall where Ron's head had just been, as Harry, still invisible, yelled, "Stupefy!"
The great blond Death Eater was hit in the face by a jet of red light: He slumped sideways, unconscious. The smaller of his companions, unable to see who had cast the spell, fired another at Ron: Shining black ropes flew from his wand-tip and bound Ron head to foot– the waitress screamed and ran for the door– Harry sent another Stunning Spell at the Death Eater with the twisted face who had tied up Ron, but the spell missed, rebounded on the window, and hit the waitress, who collapsed in front of the door.
"Expulso!" bellowed the Death Eater, and the table behind which Harry was standing blew up: The force of the explosion knocked him back and the Cloak slipped off of him.
"Harry, now!" Hermione screamed, reaching a hand out toward him. She was crouching next to Ron, who was struggling with his bindings– her other hand was on Ron's arm, and Harry knew immediately what she intended. He dove towards her, dodging an errant burst of light from the Death Eater, and his hand seized hers. In an instant, he felt the twisting pressure of Sidealong Apparition. The world slipped away and rematerialized– they were no longer in London, but instead, as Hermione had suggested, some scrap of remote countryside.
Harry did not have time to take in more than that, for Hermione had started screaming. He spun towards her, wand gripped tightly in his hand, and inexplicably found himself face to face with Gregory Goyle, dressed in workman's clothes and bleeding profusely from his shoulder. Hermione had disarmed him and had her wand pointed straight at him; he took a stumbling step backwards, clutching his wounded shoulder.
"Goyle?" Ron demanded, thunderstruck. "You're a bloody Death Eater?" He struggled against his bindings, trying to grab his own wand.
"Please don't kill me, please don't kill me," Goyle moaned. He was breathing hard and clearly trying not to cry– whether from pain or fear, Harry wasn't sure.
He looked at Ron and Hermione, back to Goyle, and back to them again. He knew they were thinking the same thing he was– he did not have any specific desire to kill Goyle, particularly not when he looked so pitiable, but they couldn't just turn him loose either.
"Give us a good reason not to," Harry said, keeping his wand trained on Goyle. "You were going to kill us– why shouldn't we kill you?"
"Please, please, I'll tell you whatever you want, Potter, don't kill me, please–"
"How did you find us?" Harry interrupted, finding he didn't have the stomach to hear Goyle's incessant pleading.
"One of you said the Dark Lord's name," Goyle moaned before dropping to his knees. "It's Taboo now."
"Taboo?" Hermione asked. "What does that mean?"
"It means you can't say it, Mudblood–"
"Oi!" Ron said, finally pulling free of the ropes and pointing his own wand at Goyle. He stepped toward him menacingly. "We're the ones with wands, remember? Watch your filthy mouth."
Goyle put his hands up and closed his eyes. "Please don't kill me, please don't kill me-"
"Answer Hermione's question for real," Harry said. "What is the Taboo?"
"Some Ministry magic, I don't know. If you say the Dark Lord's name, the spell alerts the Ministry."
"Like some kind of Trace?" Hermione asked, horror in her voice.
"Yeah I guess," Goyle said. He tried to shrug and hissed in pain. His shirt was quite bloody.
"What else can you tell us?" Harry asked.
"You're a dead man walking, Potter," Goyle said. "They're all looking for you– every single one of 'em, and now that the Ministry's ours–"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah– tell us something we don't know, idiot," Ron snapped, taking another step closer and pointing his wand in Goyle's face.
"Please, please! I'll tell you about your sister!"
Ron blanched and stepped even closer to Goyle. "You've seen Ginny?" he said, his mouth twisted in a snarl.
Goyle nodded vigorously.
"How do we know you aren't lying?" Harry demanded.
"Bloody hell, Potter, please–"
"Would you give us your memory of her?" Hermione interrupted. "In exchange for your life."
"How do I know you aren't lying?" he said, making Ron push his wand closer to his face.
"I don't think you're exactly in a position to make demands," Harry said.
"No," Hermione agreed, "but memory extraction is a hell of a lot easier if the target is willing– the memory could get damaged if he tries to hold something back, even unintentionally. Goyle, I give you my word that if you give me this memory and it is what you say it is, we will allow you to live. We will leave you here, and we'll go, and you won't follow us, but you'll live. Deal?"
"Deal, Mu– Granger," Goyle panted.
"Keep your wands on him," Hermione said to Ron and Harry, who didn't need telling twice. She walked up to Goyle, her hand shaking a bit, and quietly mouthed a spell. He closed his eyes, and Harry watched, heart pounding, as a wisp of what he recognized as memory wriggled out of Goyle's temple. Hermione waved her wand in a sort of spiral motion and the wisp enlarged, enough that they could see a still of what was inside, almost like looking at a photograph.
Harry's heart seized, and Ron let out a strangled cry at the sight. They were looking at some kind of fancy sitting room, with a bay window in the back and a cushioned window seat in its alcove. There was a figure, dressed in fine emerald robes, sitting in it, her head leaning against the window pane. She was facing away from them, but it was unmistakably Ginny.
"Alright," Hermione said. "Harry, get me a bottle out of my bag please. Just use a Summoning Charm, it'll be easier."
Harry kept his wand trained on Goyle as he walked up to Hermione and opened the clasp on her bag. "Accio bottle." A small glass vial came racing up out of the bag's opening and Harry caught it effortlessly.
"Thank you," Hermione said, and, with a wave of her own wand, sent the memory into the bottle and the bottle back into the bag.
"Alright," Harry said, eager to leave, his mind's eye swimming with Ginny's image. "My turn to choose a place, yeah?"
"Agreed," Ron said, his eyes never leaving Goyle's face.
"Can you get your wand out of my face, Weasley? I did what you asked. And I need my wand back."
"I have half a mind to keep it," Hermione said viciously. "That wasn't part of our deal, as I recall."
"You filthy–"
"Don't finish that sentence," Ron snarled.
"You gave me your word, come on–"
"Yeah, and here's what I think of that," Ron said. He grabbed Goyle's wand out of Hermione's free hand and threw it as hard as he could out into the darkness. "Have fun finding it."
"You fucking–"
"Get moving, Goyle," Harry said. "Or better yet– Stupefy!"
Goyle did not even try to dodge out of the way. He collapsed in a heap on the ground.
"He'll find his way," Ron said when Hermione looked uncertainly at his shoulder. "He bled a lot, but he'll be fine. And if he isn't, well that's what he gets for hanging onto us, isn't it? We didn't kill him."
"Oh, let's just get out of here," Hermione moaned. "I don't like this at all."
Harry extended his hands to them, and together, they Disapparated, following his lead.
He had chosen Grimmauld Place– Snape be damned, it was the best option as far as Harry could tell. No one else would be able to get inside. They twisted through that odd, compressing darkness once again, leaving Goyle behind.
Seconds later Harry's lungs expanded gratefully and he opened his eyes: They were now standing in the middle of a familiar small and shabby square. Tall, dilapidated houses looked down on them from every side. Number twelve was visible to them, for they had been told of its existence by Dumbledore, its Secret-Keeper, and they rushed toward it, checking every few yards that they were not being followed or observed. They raced up the stone steps, and Harry tapped the front door once with his wand. They heard a series of metallic clicks and the clatter of a chain, then the door swung open with a creak and they hurried over the threshold.
As Harry closed the door behind them, the old-fashioned gas lamps sprang into life, casting flickering light along the length of the hallway. It looked just as Harry remembered it: eerie, cob-webbed, the outlines of the house-elf heads on the wall throwing odd shadows up the staircase. Long dark curtains concealed the portrait of Sirius's mother. The only thing that was out of place was the troll's leg umbrella stand, which was lying on its side as if Tonks had just knocked it over again.
"I think somebody's been in here," Hermione whispered, pointing toward it.
"That could've happened as the Order left," Ron murmured back.
"So where are these jinxes they put up against Snape?" Harry asked.
"Maybe they're only activated if he shows up?" suggested Ron.
Yet they remained close together on the doormat, backs against the door, scared to move further into the house.
"Well, we can't stay here forever," said Harry, and he took a step forward.
"Severus Snape?"
Mad-Eye Moody's voice whispered out of the darkness, making all three of them jump back in fright. "We're not Snape!" croaked Harry, before something whooshed over him like cold air and his tongue curled backward on itself, making it impossible to speak. Before he had time to feel inside his mouth, however, his tongue had unraveled again.
The other two seemed to have experienced the same unpleasant sensation. Ron was making retching noises; Hermione stammered, "That m-must have b-been the T-Tongue Tying Curse Mad-Eye set up for Snape!"
Gingerly Harry took another step forward. Something shifted in the shadows at the end of the hall, and before any of them could say another word, a figure had risen up out of the carpet, tall, dust-colored, and terrible; Hermione screamed and so did Mrs. Black, her curtains flying open; the gray figure was gliding toward them, faster and faster, its waist-length hair and beard streaming behind it, its face sunken, fleshless, with empty eye sockets: Horribly familiar, dreadfully altered, it raised a wasted arm, pointing at Harry.
"No!" Harry shouted, and though he had raised his wand no spell occurred to him. "No! It wasn't us! We didn't kill you–"
On the word kill, the figure exploded in a great cloud of dust: Coughing, his eyes watering, Harry looked around to see Hermione crouched on the floor by the door with her arms over her head, and Ron, who was shaking from head to foot, patting her clumsily on the shoulder and saying, "It's all r-right… It's g-gone…" Dust swirled around Harry like mist, catching the blue gaslight, as Mrs. Black continued to scream.
"Mudbloods, filth, stains of dishonor, taint of shame on the house of my fathers–"
"SHUT UP!" Harry bellowed, directing his wand at her, and with a bang and a burst of red sparks, the curtains swung shut again, silencing her.
"That… that was…" Hermione whimpered, as Ron helped her to her feet.
"Yeah," said Harry, "but it wasn't really him, was it? Just something to scare Snape."
Had it worked, Harry wondered, or had Snape already blasted the horror-figure aside as casually as he had killed the real Dumbledore? Nerves still tingling, he led the other two up the hall, half-expecting some new terror to reveal itself, but nothing moved except for a mouse skittering along the skirting board.
"Before we go any farther, I think we'd better check," whispered Hermione, and she raised her wand and said, "Homenum Revelio."
Nothing happened.
"Well, you've just had a big shock," said Ron kindly. "What was that supposed to do?"
"It did what I meant it to do!" said Hermione rather crossly. "That was a spell to reveal human presence, and there's nobody here except us!"
"And old Dusty," said Ron, glancing at the patch of carpet from which the corpse-figure had risen.
"Let's go up," said Hermione with a frightened look at the same spot, and she led the way up the creaking stairs to the drawing room on the first floor. Hermione waved her wand to ignite the old gas lamps, then, shivering slightly in the drafty room, she perched on the sofa, her arms wrapped tightly around her.
"Goyle, of all people," Ron muttered as he moved to look out the window, moving the curtains aside a crack. "Malfoy I could maybe believe, even back at school. But Goyle?"
"You-Know-Who must be desperate," Harry said dryly, hating that he had to resort to avoiding Voldemort's name. "I'm sure he won't be happy with Goyle when he makes it back."
"Should we have questioned him more, do you think?" Hermione asked. "We could have, I suppose, but I was in such a panic to get out of there–"
"No, you were right," Ron said. "If they can add some crazy magic like the Taboo barely thirty minutes after taking over the Ministry, who knows what else they can do. Staying out in the open with him was a bad idea, and we couldn't take him with us, and we couldn't…"
Kill him. They couldn't kill him, not in cold blood like that. They were not murderers, at least not yet.
"We got that memory of Ginny, but how are we going to watch it?" Harry asked. "If there was ever a Pensieve here, I'm sure it's long gone by now, thanks to Mundungus."
"I have one," Hermione said, making Ron's mouth drop. "Well, not a full one, but a smaller version. We can't store memories in it, it can only hold one at a time, but it'll work for what we need. It cost me a fortune, but I thought we might need it for your memories of Dumbledore and You-Know-Who, Harry– they're worth all of us watching."
"You are bloody brilliant, Hermione," Harry said as she opened her bag, reached in with both hands, and pulled out a very small Pensieve. She gave the disc a little spin as she lifted it up, and it floated in the air in front of them.
"Accio memory bottle," she said, and the small glass vial shot out of her bag and into her hand. They all stared at it for a moment.
"What do you think we're going to see?" Hermione asked in a quiet voice. "I'm almost afraid to watch it."
"The truth, finally," Harry said. "Or at least hopefully– Goyle just said he saw Ginny, he didn't say what happened. For all we know, this is the extent of the memory."
"I don't think so," Hermione said. "It's a fairly long memory, you can tell by the viscosity of the material–probably over an hour."
"Over an hour?" Ron asked, looking around the room. "Are we alright diving into this for over an hour?"
"We're as safe here as anywhere else," Hermione said, "or maybe a little safer. Still though–" She stood up, edging around the Pensieve, and began casting a variety of protective enchantments on the room. "There. If something can get through all of that, we're in bigger trouble anyway."
Ron nodded. "So we'll go in, figure out what the hell happened to Ginny, and then make a plan from there, yeah?"
"Agreed," Harry and Hermione said. Hermione unstoppered the glass vial, took a deep breath, and dumped it into the Pensieve.
"Ready?" she asked. Harry and Ron nodded, and, as one, the three of them dipped their heads into the Pensieve's surface.
The memory materialized around them, and they found themselves at Goyle's side, walking down a long hallway. A house elf was leading them, and they weren't alone– Crabbe, Nott, Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, and Daphne Greengrass were there as well.
"Where are we, do you think?" Hermione asked, looking around.
"Take one fucking guess," Ron said, pointing at a portrait on the wall. A pale-faced, blonde, sneering man stared down at the group of Slytherins as they passed.
"Malfoy Manor," Harry said through gritted teeth, his hands clenched into fists. How had the Ministry missed this? They had been right the whole time– Ginny was at Malfoy Manor.
He looked down at the elf. This one was a female, and if he looked at her long enough, he could see echoes of Dobby's facial features in hers– his sister, maybe? Dobby had never mentioned anything, but then again, Dobby didn't talk much about his time with the Malfoys… This elf at least didn't look abused. She led the group cheerfully down the hallway and bowed to them once they reached a specific door.
Zabini didn't wait to knock on the door. He threw the door open, revealing the sitting room the trio had seen a glimpse of earlier. "Draco! Happy birthday."
Malfoy was sitting on a couch in the room, and he smiled broadly as his friends made their way into the space and wished him well for his birthday. But Harry couldn't care about any of that– Ginny was there too, in the window seat, looking outside and ignoring the newcomers.
As one, Harry, Ron, and Hermione hurried into the room and practically ran to the window seat.
"Oh, Ginny," Hermione said, covering her mouth with her hand. "She's so thin, look."
Ginny did look thin. She was wearing beautiful silken robes, but Harry could see that she had lost a significant amount of weight. Worse than that, though, was the expression on her face– she stared out of the window onto pristinely manicured grounds, her eyes blank and unseeing.
Ron reached out to try to touch her, but of course his hand went right through her. His hand tightened to a fist.
"We're going to have to break into Malfoy Manor," he said, his jaw tight.
"We need to get information first though," Harry said. "This was all the way back in June, if this is for Malfoy's birthday. He was always getting a stupid amount of sweets and presents delivered to the Great Hall near the end of term, remember? Anything could have happened between now and then."
"I suppose I didn't specify all of Goyle's memories of Ginny," Hermione said, quietly furious to recognize the oversight. "Of course he only gave us one– who knows how many other times he's seen her?"
Harry did not want to walk away from Ginny, who remained quietly despondent in the window, but the group of Slytherins did not appear interested in interacting with her, and he wasn't going to learn anything by just staring at her.
"Let's listen in, yeah? We can rewatch it if we need to, but they're ignoring her for now," he said.
Reluctantly, the three of them moved closer to the Slytherins, who were laughing as they recounted the aftermath of Dumbledore's murder to Malfoy.
"-you should have seen Hagrid crying, fucking idiot," Goyle said with a laugh.
"We should have killed him," Ron spat.
They listened in furious silence as the group discussed the Death Eaters, with Nott boasting about taking the Dark Mark in a couple of months–around now, if this memory was back in June.
"Wouldn't surprise me at this point if they all did," Harry said, his eyes on Malfoy, who was reclined in an armchair like a prince. "Follow the leader."
The amount of hatred he felt for Malfoy was dizzying. He had always hated him, but it had been for petty, stupid reasons– not like now. Snape was Dumbledore's murderer, and Harry would never be able to hate anyone more than he hated Snape, save perhaps Voldemort himself, but Malfoy gave him a run for his money. He had led Ginny along for months, right into the Death Eaters' hands, right to Malfoy Manor apparently… but why? Hopefully this memory of Goyle's would provide some sort of answers.
As though he had heard Harry's thoughts, Zabini said, "Are we going to address the lion in the room?"
The group stopped talking, eyes flicking to Malfoy, who smirked.
"Ah yes. My favorite birthday present. Ginny, come here."
"What's wrong with his voice?" Hermione asked, horrified. Malfoy's voice had turned gravelly and deep–not altogether human. Harry had never heard anything like it before.
He didn't have time to ponder it though, for Ginny had stood up and was walking toward the group. All eyes were on her as she stopped at the back of the couch behind Crabbe and Goyle. Her eyes were fixed straight ahead, not focused on anything in particular.
"Don't be shy, come closer."
Ginny crossed around the couch and walked right up to Malfoy, whose eyes shone with wicked delight. She didn't look at him.
"How are you doing that?" demanded Nott, voicing Harry's thought.
"I'm glad you asked," Malfoy said, his voice dripping with satisfaction. He sounded just like he had all those months ago on the Hogwarts Express, bragging about his work for the Death Eaters. "It's a brand new invention, only one of its kind in the world for the time being. Show them what Macnair gave you, love."
Harry could tell right away that Ginny did not want to– her posture stiffened and she took an exaggerated breath as she rolled up her left sleeve.
"What the fuck?" Ron demanded as Daphne gasped. From wrist to elbow, Ginny's left arm was covered in an inky black tattoo– leaves and vines wrapped over themselves in a pattern almost like rope.
Hermione moved closer to look at it. "A magical tattoo maybe?"
"It's so ugly," Pansy Parkinson said with a sneer, making Malfoy glare at her.
"I happen to think it's stunning," he said coldly. "Not least because of what it can do. Show them your wrist."
Ginny closed her eyes for a brief moment but did as Malfoy said. She held up her arm, and Harry's blood turned to ice in his veins. There, on her wrist right atop her pulse point, were the initials DM inked into her skin.
The Slytherin boys all burst out laughing and Ginny flushed. Harry moved toward Malfoy, not caring for a moment that the memory wasn't solid, and his hand went right through Malfoy's face.
"Damn, you really are the Dark Lord's favorite," Goyle said.
"It's like I was saying on the Hogwarts Express last year," he said, oblivious to Harry's efforts to punch him. "Loyal service and devotion will get you far."
"This is sick," Hermione murmured, her eyes unable to leave the tattoo.
"So how does it work then?" Zabini asked. "It's like the Imperius?"
"Yes and no," Malfoy said. "The commands are spoken, not mental, but that's because they have absolutely nothing to do with the mind."
This pronouncement did not mean anything in particular to Harry, but it apparently did to Hermione, who covered her mouth with her hands.
"Oh?" Zabini asked, arching an eyebrow.
"Ginny's perfectly lucid. Aren't you?"
"Yes."
"Can we pause this shit?" Ron said, storming toward Ginny to inspect the tattoo itself.
"I don't think so," Hermione said through her hands. "We just need to listen, and we can go back to watch it again if we miss something."
"Watch it again? I can barely watch it the first bloody time–" Ron said, but Harry shushed him. They couldn't afford to miss any information, no matter how heinous the information was.
"And she is absolutely bound to obey me. Aren't you?"
Ginny closed her eyes for real this time. "Yes."
"Don't disappear now. Open your eyes. We're celebrating my birthday right now. You ruined my birthday dinner last night, the least you could do is be present for this."
Ginny's eyes snapped open and she fixed Malfoy with the fiercest glare she could muster.
"My, my," Zabini said. "If looks could kill."
Malfoy laughed. "I would have been dead… how long has it been now? Two days? Two and a half?"
"She was somewhere else before here," Hermione said quickly. "If that's the case, with Malfoy's birthday being in June."
Harry's stomach twisted at that thought, but he made himself push it to the side– he could react after, after he had seen the full memory.
The house elf they had seen earlier Apparated into the room with an absolutely massive cake hovering over her head. Harry thought absurdly of Dobby levitating Aunt Petunia's prized dessert over his own head all those years ago on Privet Drive– a lifetime ago, now.
"Tilly has made Master Draco a birthday cake to share with his friends," she said, levitating the cake toward the coffee table in the middle of the seating area. She snapped her fingers and a stack of plates and cutlery appeared next to the cake. "Let Tilly know if you be needing anything else." With a crack, she Disapparated.
Malfoy waved his wand and plates and forks began floating around while a knife cut into the cake. Ginny's eyes, Harry noticed, were on the knife.
"Come on, Ginny, fight it," Harry pleaded, even though he knew she couldn't hear him, even though he knew that this had happened months ago now. Ginny looked desperately sad and much too thin, but she still had fight in her, he could see it.
"My father says she's immortal," Nott said, his eyes on Ginny. Harry, Ron, and Hermione's heads all swiveled to look in Nott's direction.
"She is," Malfoy agreed, making Harry's eyes widen. "Blessed by Death itself."
"Are you sure we can't pause?" Ron said in a strangled voice, but it was Hermione's turn to shush him. Harry could practically see the gears in her mind turning, her eyes locked on Malfoy's face.
"How?" asked Crabbe.
"One of life's great mysteries, I suppose," Malfoy deadpanned. He waved his wand and the last plate floating in the air shattered, making the whole group jump. "Oh no," he said, looking up at Ginny, who was still standing next to his chair. "Guess we'll have to share." He vanished the plate shards with another wave of his wand.
Ginny ignored him completely, looking out over the room as though he hadn't spoken. Malfoy did not appear to like this– his smirk fell a bit, his eyes on her face.
"Well don't just stand there," he said, a hint of playful malice in his voice. "Sit down."
She glanced around her, but she saw the same thing Harry did– all of the seats were taken.
"Oops, how silly of me," Malfoy said flatly, and in one fluid motion he reached up, grabbed Ginny by the waist, and pulled her onto his lap. She let out a startled gasp but made no move to pull away.
"Did I say we should have killed Goyle?" Ron said. "I've changed my mind– thank you Goyle, for showing us this memory, so I know exactly how badly to beat the shit out of Malfoy."
"Well, I see you got to have your cake and eat it too," Zabini said drily, making Malfoy smirk.
"Yes, and it's delicious," he said, eyes raking over Ginny's form.
"Cheers, Draco. Happy birthday," Zabini said, and the group chorused their own "happy birthdays" before picking up their plates of cake.
Malfoy adjusted his seat so that Ginny was sitting sideways across his lap. He reached up for his own plate of cake, though he did not take a bite.
"Do you want some cake?" he asked Ginny, his eyes on her face.
"No."
Malfoy frowned in an exaggerated way. "But it's my birthday. I want you to eat some cake."
"It was your birthday yesterday," Ginny said in a dull voice. She wasn't looking at anything in particular, but she had to be aware of the room's eyes on her. Everyone was staring.
"And it's my birthday celebration today. Do try to keep up."
"Come on Draco, you're holding out on us," Nott said before Ginny could respond. "You can't just drop that she's immortal and then try to change the subject to cake."
"I believe you were the one who dropped that she's immortal, actually," Malfoy said before taking a bite of cake. "But yes. What do you want to know?"
"Everything," Nott demanded with a scoff. "This is absolutely insane."
"You don't say," Harry muttered. Immortal… he couldn't even begin to wrap his head around that. Did Dumbledore know?
"Long story short," Malfoy said, and Harry shook his head to force himself to pay attention, "part of my mission at school was to make sure Ginny helped the Dark Lord obtain some particularly powerful magical objects– I'm guessing your fathers have filled you in on that, it was public news amongst the Death Eaters. And while she was at it, Death decided to sweeten the deal."
Hermione was silently mouthing something, and Harry knew she was wishing she had her parchment in front of her.
"The Hallows, you figure?" Ron asked. "It's gotta be."
"What do you mean, Death decided to sweeten the deal?" Zabini asked.
"Exactly that. A being, colloquially known as Death, gifted the Dark Lord items of immeasurable power, and made our darling pureblood witch immortal to boot."
"Okay, pause," Hermione demanded.
"You said there's no way to pause!" Ron said.
"What does he mean, a being colloquially known as Death?" she said.
"Maybe we weren't taking the story literally enough," Ron said.
"But that's ridiculous, Ron–"
"Shhh!" Harry hissed.
"Why her?" Pansy asked, loathing written all over her face as she looked at Malfoy's hand on Ginny's waist.
Malfoy took another bite of cake and swallowed before answering. "Well, the short answer is that it was foretold. A young witch, pure of blood and pure of heart, travels down a lonely, winding road at twilight. The Dark Lord decided that she would be the one to do it, and promised her to me if I completed the job." He adjusted his seat slightly, his grip on Ginny's waist visibly tightening.
"A lonely, winding road at twilight," Harry said. "Beedle's story started the same way, didn't it, Hermione?"
Hermione nodded, her eyes on Malfoy. "This can't be possible. He has to be lying, trying to impress the others."
"Listen now, analyze later," Ron said.
"Then she received her gift," Malfoy continued, "and that… upped the stakes a bit. I'm sure your father told you what Ginny means to the movement, Nott."
"The pure bloodlines can never die," Nott said with a nod.
"Exactly," Malfoy said. He dug his fork into the cake before looking at Ginny. "Eat what I feed you." He brought the fork to her lips and she ate the cake. The chocolate frosting was thick; it smeared all over her lips as Malfoy withdrew the fork. His eyes locked on hers, he reached up and wiped the frosting with his thumb before sticking it in her mouth. Her cheeks flushed scarlet as she sat there for a moment, frozen, and then, mortifyingly, licked the frosting off, her eyes on Malfoy's face.
White-hot anger surged in Harry's stomach, but he held himself back from lunging forward– his hand swinging through Malfoy's incorporeal body wouldn't be satisfying in the least.
"Merlin, Draco, that's vulgar," Daphne said– one of the first comments she had made since the memory started.
"How do I get one of them?" Crabbe asked, greed in his voice, making Hermione gag.
Malfoy took his finger out of Ginny's mouth and looked at Crabbe. "Well, you'd have to have the Dark Mark first. The tattoo is tied to the Mark."
Harry glanced toward Malfoy's left arm, where he knew the Dark Mark lay.
"I thought you said this was the only one of its kind," Zabini said.
"For now. This is the Dark Lord's plan for all the blood traitors."
"What the fuck?" Ron thundered.
"To be whores?" Pansy asked, derision in her voice.
"That's rich, coming from you," Malfoy said, making Pansy gasp in outrage. "And no, she's not a whore. She's to be my wife."
Ginny went rigid in Malfoy's lap, her spine straightening like she had been struck by lightning.
"Oh, Ginny," Hermione said softly.
Malfoy's words echoed over and over in Harry's head. She's to be my wife…
Malfoy noticed Ginny's reaction immediately. "Oh did I not say that before?" he said to her, mock concern in his voice. "I thought it was obvious– the Dark Lord called ours a fairy tale romance, after all. What's a romance without a happily ever after?"
"More talk of fairy tales," Hermione murmured, her brow furrowed.
Ginny said nothing, but she gripped the edge of the armchair to steady herself. Her breathing was shallow.
"You're a real arsehole, you know that?" Nott said, his hand on Pansy's back, who looked near tears at this point. "Have your fun, but remember who's been there for you since the beginning."
"Can you honestly say that if you had met me in another reality where I was poor and nameless, you would have even looked twice in my direction?" Malfoy snapped, his eyes flying to Pansy. "Or did you set your sights on the richest, most pedigreed boy in your year, sure you could land a ring by the time you graduated?"
"Mate, you're being cruel," Zabini said.
"What was it you said earlier, love?" Malfoy said, looking to Ginny for just a second. "Oh yeah– it's the goddamn truth. Well, don't worry, we might still end up related– Ginny has a million brothers, so–"
Hermione and Harry looked at Ron, who looked equal parts furious and shaken, but their attention was quickly drawn back to Malfoy. Ginny's hand had flown up toward his face and stopped maybe half an inch away from his cheek. She was breathing hard, holding eye contact with him.
"She isn't able to fight back," Hermione said in a tremulous voice. "She tried to hit him, do you see? And the magic stopped her."
Malfoy did not take kindly to nearly being hit. "That's not very nice," he whispered to her, grabbing her wrist and pulling it back down to her lap. "Don't you want Pansy for a sister-in-law? I know I was giving her a hard time just now, but she's not so bad. Maybe one day you could even be friends."
"Fat chance," said Pansy.
"No," Ginny mumbled, still breathing hard. Malfoy still had a grip on her wrist.
He sighed dramatically. "Your favorite word. Like a toddler. Temper tantrums and all."
"I fucking wonder why no is her favorite word," Harry seethed, his anger feeling like a living, breathing thing inside of him, screaming to get out.
Malfoy turned back to Pansy. "I'm sorry for calling you a whore, and I should have more clearly broken things off once I knew that I wouldn't be available for you. But don't lie to yourself about what your intentions were– you didn't care about me any more than I cared about you."
"Look on the bright side, Pans," Zabini said, stretching dramatically on the chaise. "Now you can go after Montague– much hunkier than Draco, and more charming. Settle down with a nice, proper pureblood and you can avoid all this blood traitor nonsense."
"You disagree with the Dark Lord's vision?" Malfoy asked, and as if on cue, Crabbe and Goyle's beady eyes swung to Zabini. Ginny shuddered in Malfoy's lap and, Harry noted with disgust, he absently rubbed her wrist in apparent comfort.
"Not at all," Zabini said. "Rehabilitating them is better than destroying their lines altogether. But if my only option was a Weasley brother… well let's just say I'd be in a hurry to get hitched to someone else, make myself unavailable."
Ginny swayed slightly in Malfoy's lap, and Malfoy grew rigid.
"Tilly," he said in a sharp voice, all laughter gone. "Draught of Peace. Now."
"Draught of Peace? For what?" Nott said, but Malfoy wasn't listening. He adjusted Ginny in his lap so that she was more clearly facing him and cupped her face in his hands, blocking her peripheral vision.
"Look at me," he said, his eyes locked on her face. "Stay right here with me. Nothing matters outside of this moment. You are not in danger. Nothing dangerous is happening to you. Don't push me away. Stay right here with me."
"What's happening to her?" Ron demanded, looking at Hermione as if she might have some answer, but she shook her head, her own breathing growing shallow.
"My head hurts," Ginny whispered in a faraway voice.
"I know, darling, Tilly will be right here with medicine– Tilly, hurry the fuck up!"
Tilly Apparated in immediately, a potions vial in her hand. Malfoy snatched the vial and tipped it into Ginny's mouth. Ginny took a great shuddering gasp once she drank it, her whole body shaking, and she whimpered as Malfoy pulled her closer to him, tucking her into his chest.
"That's an unusual reaction to that potion," Hermione said, observing Ginny's body as she shook in Malfoy's arms. "It's not usually so extreme."
"Shh, you're alright," Malfoy whispered in a soothing voice, his hand stroking Ginny's back. His expression was soft as he looked at her, which turned Harry's stomach.
"What the fuck was that?" Nott asked.
"Remember how I said she ruined my birthday dinner?" Malfoy said dryly. "Let's just say her immortal powers don't always differentiate between physical and psychological distress. We avoided a blow up just now."
"A blow up?" Daphne asked.
"Yep," Malfoy said. "Golden light shooting everywhere, things flying around the room, lots of screaming– it's a whole thing."
Malfoy adjusted his seat once again, leaning back in his chair and pulling Ginny with him like she was a small child. Her face was buried in his chest, not looking at the group. "Alright, let's give Ginny a break. Talk about something else."
"I don't know how much more of this I can take," Ron said, looking at Malfoy with disgust. "How much longer?"
"I'm not sure," Hermione said, "but we've got to be getting close to done by now–"
"We have to stay for the whole thing," Harry said. "For Ginny. She didn't get to just step out of this situation. The least we can do is stand here and watch it."
Ron and Hermione fell silent, mollified.
The conversation turned to Daphne's upcoming seventeenth birthday party. Harry, despite his earlier words, began to wonder whether they had heard all the important information they were going to hear, when Malfoy said, "Ginny's birthday is in August. Maybe we'll do something then."
Ten days from now. Ginny's sixteenth birthday was ten days from now. Would they be celebrating, as Malfoy said? Celebrating at Malfoy Manor? Could Harry save her then?
Ginny had stiffened a bit when Malfoy announced her birthday, but otherwise she showed no reaction to the conversation at all, about Daphne's party or when it turned to talk of the upcoming Quidditch season. She kept her face tucked into Malfoy's chest, her legs curled up in the armchair like she was trying to squeeze into a ball. Harry's heart ached as he moved to the other side of the chair and knelt down next to the arm so that he could see Ginny's face.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered, reaching out for her and letting his hand hover above her own. "I'll find you, I swear. I'll get you out. Stay strong, Ginny, please. Hold on."
Of course, Ginny couldn't hear him. She stared blankly at nothing, trapped in Malfoy's arms.
The party, such as it was, appeared to be wrapping up. "Just so we're clear before you go," Malfoy said, "Ginny is to remain an absolute secret for the time being– the Dark Lord will kill anyone who violates that. When the Ministry falls, she'll make her grand debut as our champion for pureblood rights, but before then, no one can know she is here. She is more important to the Dark Lord than all of our fathers combined– second maybe only to Potter. Do you understand?"
"Champion for pureblood rights," Hermione repeated, looking nauseous. The group of Slytherins murmured their assent as they stood.
"Alright," Malfoy said. "Ginny, are you feeling well enough to stand?"
"Yes."
"Okay, then you can get up." Malfoy let go of her waist and Ginny pushed herself off of him. Remarkably, she didn't wobble even a little bit.
Daphne looked her up and down, an unreadable expression on her face. "Your robes are lovely, Ginny."
"Brand new this morning," Malfoy said. "Custom, of course. Say thank you."
"Thank you," Ginny said in a monotone.
Daphne looked uneasy but nodded at her.
"Well this was fun," Malfoy said in a flat voice as he ushered people toward the door. Ginny remained standing by the armchair. "I'm sure I'll be seeing you all again soon."
"Draco," Zabini said. He was the last one to leave the room. "Can I talk to you for a second?"
Goyle was moving down the hallway, away from Ginny, and Harry could feel the pull of the memory taking them out of the room.
"Come on, memory's over," he said, and the three of them rose up out of the Pensieve, gasping for air.
"Bloody fucking hell–" Ron started, but Hermione immediately shushed him, dashing back to the couch for her bag.
"Nobody talk," she said. "I need to write all of this down, and then we can compare thoughts after. I don't want to have to watch it again, I can't forget anything."
Harry's head was so full that he didn't protest. He dropped down onto the couch next to Hermione, his mind swimming with Ginny's blankly staring face. Ron, on the other hand, didn't appear capable of sitting down– he stayed silent, but he paced in rapid circles, mouthing silently to himself and gesticulating every once in a while. Hermione had summoned her parchment along with a quill and inkwell and was writing as rapidly as Harry had ever seen her.
After what seemed like an eternity, she put the quill down and took a deep breath. "Okay. Okay. Wow. Okay." She had written almost half a page's worth of notes. "So… I guess just like with our train conversation. Let's start with what we know, and then go to what we can reasonably infer."
"Malfoy's a rapist," Ron spat. Hermione flinched.
"I think that goes under reasonably infer," she said, making Ron bristle.
"Reasonably infer? Hermione, did you see the way he was touching her? Did you hear what he was saying to her?"
"Yes, and I think you're right, for what it's worth, but we have to keep our emotions separate for a second. We learned a whole hell of a lot in that conversation– Goyle gave us the jackpot. We just have to parse it out."
"Alright, Hermione, you start us off," Harry said, keeping his voice deliberately calm. "What do we know for sure?"
Hermione looked down at her notes. "This memory took place some time in the first half of June. Malfoy said she had been with him for two and a half days, which means she had to be somewhere else from the beginning of May until roughly the beginning of June. Wherever that is, it isn't somewhere that the others knew anything about, since they didn't know anything about Ginny, so it wasn't like she was staying with the Crabbes or something."
"A reasonable inference," Harry said blithely, making Hermione glance up at him and frown.
"Sometimes reasonable inferences are inextricably linked to facts," she said primly before continuing. "Macnair did some type of magical experimentation with the Dark Mark and the Imperius Curse. Normally the Imperius makes you incredibly suggestable, puts you into a kind of trance state, but this was different. Ginny was completely herself mentally, but she had to obey Malfoy's commands anyway."
"Only when he changed his voice," Harry noted. "That must be part of the spell somehow."
Hermione nodded. "And it didn't seem like something she could override, even if she tried. This is mostly an inference, but she tried to hit Malfoy and her hand stopped involuntarily right before making impact, I saw it–like she slammed into an invisible wall. It's not a matter of her having the willpower to ignore the command, she was physically incapable of doing it."
"He probably commanded her not to hit him," Ron said in disgust. "He said no was her favorite word. I fucking wonder what she was saying no to."
Harry's chest felt so tight that he thought he might explode. "What else, Hermione?" he said in a tight voice.
"They say she's immortal," Hermione said, biting her lip. "That… oh Merlin, this is mad, absolutely mad. That Death gave incredibly powerful magical objects- inferring he means the Hallows– to You-Know-Who, and then made Ginny immortal."
"And gave her some kind of other power, it seems like," Harry said. "The blow up Malfoy was talking about."
"I'm glad it didn't happen, but I almost wish we had seen it," Hermione said. "We'd have a better sense of what's true and what's Malfoy boasting."
"It has to be true, Hermione," Harry said. "Think about it– forget what's possible and impossible for a minute, and just think about it. Trelawney went missing, and Vol–fuck, You-Know-Who has been going on and on about a prophecy. We thought there must have been a second one once I had that vision, remember? And Malfoy talked about a prophecy. What did he say?"
"A young witch, pure of blood and pure of heart," Ron quoted. "He said You-Know-Who chose Ginny. Maybe Dumbledore knew that somehow? So he had Tonks watch out for her, because he suspected that You-Know-Who would target her somehow."
"But Malfoy targeted Kathleen instead, and Tonks missed it because she wasn't watching Kathleen," Harry said.
Hermione nodded, rapidly scribbling as they talked, drawing lines between old notes and new ones.
"Immortal, though… really immortal," she said. "That's what You-Know-Who has been chasing all this time, for decades now. Why on earth would he give that power to Ginny instead?"
"He didn't give it to her," Harry said. "Death did–or whatever the hell it actually is, don't look at me like that, Hermione. This being, whatever we want to call it. And what did Malfoy say? Death decided to sweeten the deal? Sounds like it was unexpected."
"That had to have pissed You-Know-Who off," Ron said. "All that work, for decades, and then Ginny gets it without evening asking for it."
"But he can't kill her like he must have wanted to," Harry said slowly. "If she's really immortal, he can't kill her."
"And it's not like he's just going to let her go," Hermione said with a nod. "So he had to put her somewhere, and I guess Malfoy Manor is that somewhere."
"It's more than that," Ron said. "You know what Ginny means to the movement, Nott. You-Know-Who is using her for something."
"The pure bloodlines can never die," Hermione repeated, frowning. "Propaganda, maybe?"
"Maybe," Harry said. "Malfoy did say that once the Ministry fell, Ginny was going to be… how did he say it? The champion for pureblood rights?"
Ron grimaced; he looked nauseous. "And apparently lead the charge in all the so-called blood traitors getting those disgusting tattoos. My whole family is in danger from those– we have to tell them."
As though on cue, a silver Patronus soared through the window and landed upon the floor in front of them, where it solidified into the weasel that spoke with the voice of Ron's father. "Family safe, do not reply, we are being watched."
"Fuck!" Ron yelled, standing up and punching the wall in one fluid motion, hard enough to make a hole.
"Ron, your hand!" Hermione cried, jumping to her feet. His hand was bleeding, and he was breathing hard.
"They're all going to be tortured," Ron moaned, begrudgingly letting Hermione tend to his hand.
"Your dad wouldn't have been able to send a Patronus if they had been arrested or kidnapped by Death Eaters," Hermione said, her eyes on his bleeding knuckles. "They're in danger, absolutely, but it sounds like they are safe for the night."
"How the hell are we going to get a message to them?" Ron said. "They need to go into hiding, all of them."
"I don't… I don't know. We'll have to think of something."
"And I think we might have to go to Malfoy Manor," Harry said. "Malfoy said they might celebrate Ginny's birthday– that's in ten days."
"The place'll be crawling with Death Eaters, though," Hermione said, biting her lip. "I want to get Ginny out of there as badly as you do, but just storming in there is a bad idea, if we even can– Malfoy Manor is ancient, and loaded with protective enchantments from what the Order said. If Mad-Eye wouldn't try to break in without Ministry backing, how the hell are we going to do it?"
"Maybe we don't break in," Harry said. "People will be going in and out, if it's a party. Maybe we try going in disguise– do you have any Polyjuice in that bag?"
Hermione shook her head, and Harry grimaced. "And I guess we can't brew it in ten days," Harry muttered. "I would say we use the Cloak, but I didn't realize how much better than average mine is– this one isn't going to cut it, no offense."
"None taken," Hermione said faintly. "No shop-made cloak is going to match up to Death's."
"Oh, now you say it's Death," Ron muttered, nursing his injured hand.
Harry opened his mouth to respond, but he gasped in pain as his scar burned, so blindingly intense that his vision went white.
"Harry, what's wrong?" Hermione asked urgently. "Are you seeing something?"
"I–" But he couldn't finish his sentence. A vision of an absolutely furious Lord Voldemort filled his mind.
Voldemort was sitting on the same throne Harry had seen before, up on a dais in a ballroom, and, shockingly, Ginny was kneeling next to him. Harry could instantly tell she was at a healthier weight, but what really shocked him was her appearance. She was dressed for a ball, with an actual tiara glinting on her head, the diamonds and emeralds reflecting the light from the chandelier above them.
"Where is the boy?" Voldemort demanded in an icy voice, and the large group of elegantly-dressed people on the floor moved out of the way, revealing the two adult Death Eaters who had chased Harry, Ron, and Hermione in London.
"We followed him to London, my lord," the blonde one said. "Him and his two friends. But they got away. Young Goyle is missing–"
"So you returned here, interrupting my victory party, only to tell me that the boy has escaped?"
"I'm… I'm sorry, my lord–"
"Crucio!"
The blonde Death Eater screamed, collapsing to the ground, and Harry could see Ginny flinch.
Run, Ginny!
"Get out, all of you!" Voldemort yelled, rising to his feet before firing off a Crucio at the other Death Eater. "Except for you two."
Ginny didn't need telling twice. She rose to her feet, her frame dwarfed somewhat by her large skirt, and raced down the dais steps. People were swarming the exit, running as fast as they could, except for one familiar blonde head, pushing his way in the opposite direction.
Harry stayed close to Ginny, willing her to run faster, and soon, Malfoy arrived at her side.
"Come on," he said in a low voice as he grabbed her arm. "We need to go, now."
She nodded at him and allowed him to pull her through the crowd, pushing others out of the way. She lifted up her skirt in order to keep up with Malfoy's longer strides. Harry tried to follow as they left the room, but this wasn't a memory– it was happening in real time, and tied to Voldemort.
"Please, my lord, have mercy–"
"Crucio!"
It went on for a moment longer, before Harry came back to himself, gasping for air. Hermione and Ron had surrounded him, worried expressions on their faces.
"What did you see?" Ron asked. "Was it the Burrow?"
"No, but I saw Ginny," he said. "She's alright," he added quickly at their looks of alarm. "Vold– damn it- You-Know-Who is furious that we escaped. Malfoy got Ginny out of the way."
Ron raised his eyebrows in disbelief.
"She looked… different than how I expected," Harry said, still panting. "Here– Hermione, can I give you this memory and you two watch it in the Pensieve? If we've got it we might as well use it."
Hermione nodded, and with a wave of her wand extracted Goyle's memory out of the Pensieve, put it back in its vial, and held her wand to Harry's temple. It tickled a little as she extracted the tiny wisp of memory. It had only lasted a minute or so– it would take them no time at all to watch.
They ducked their heads in, and soon removed them again.
"Well, at least she's not in a dungeon somewhere I guess," Ron muttered, but Hermione was frowning.
"We're still missing something," she said. "Malfoy said that she was more important to You-Know-Who than all of their fathers put together, second only to Harry. You-Know-Who's entire agenda is to have power over people– he wants people to see him as the greatest Dark wizard in the world, beyond anyone else… Why would he put Ginny in a crown up on that dais, right next to him, even if she was kneeling on the ground? No one else was up there, not even Malfoy. He's not just using her for propaganda about purebloods– realistically, anybody could do that, it's just a figurehead position. There's something else, something specific to her."
"Related to what Malfoy was saying about her powers, maybe?" Harry asked. "Or somehow connected to this second prophecy? We still haven't heard its contents, Malfoy only said one line from it. When You-Know-Who called for Ollivander and Borgin, he was talking about being Master of Death and mastering the Hallows– maybe Ginny is more strongly connected to that somehow?"
Hermione bit her lip. "Maybe. Damn it all, now I wish we had made Goyle go with us. We never could have let him go again, unless I did a damn good Memory Charm on him, but I'm sure he's seen Ginny more than that one time, especially since he apparently became a Death Eater sometime after this memory. He probably knows more than he showed us."
"Or not," Ron said. "It is Goyle, after all."
Harry smirked, and even Hermione smiled a little.
"Fair point," Harry said. "Well, it doesn't really matter in the end, does it? We know Ginny's at Malfoy Manor, and that we have to save her– doesn't really matter why she's there."
"Don't bite my head off please, but," Hermione said hesitantly, "that didn't look like Malfoy Manor to me."
"What do you mean?" Harry demanded, making Hermione wince. "It's a ballroom, and we saw Ginny at Malfoy Manor–"
"Yes, two months ago," Hermione said. "It might be Malfoy Manor, but the architecture in there didn't look the same at all, didn't you notice?"
Harry covered his face with his hands. "No, Hermione, I didn't notice the architecture," he said in a monotone. "I was a little preoccupied with my scar trying to burn its way out of my skull, and Lord- UGH- Tom Riddle screaming Unforgivable Curses left, right, and center."
"I just don't want us to make the wrong call, Harry," Hermione pleaded. "The Death Eaters have the full might of the Ministry behind them now. If we pick the wrong building to break into, knowing that Death Eaters are going to be there, it's very likely we could get captured. And then not only will we not be able to rescue Ginny, we won't be able to rescue anyone else either."
Harry's jaw was tight. Hermione was right, but that didn't mean he had to like it.
"Alright," Ron said with an exaggerated breath. "We're not dead, Ginny's not dead, my family's not dead– even Goyle's not dead, probably. I think that's as far as we're going to get tonight. What do you say we try to sleep and regroup in the morning?"
"Fine," Harry said.
They made their beds out of sleeping bags in the room they were in, none of them wanting to be too far apart from each other. Harry laid awake long after Ron and Hermione fell asleep. He held the ruined Snitch in his hands, turning it over and over, tracing the melted edges of it, wishing more than anything that he had gotten to the Resurrection Stone in time. The image of Ginny in an emerald green ballgown fleeing the strange room, Malfoy's hand on her arm, filled his mind as he finally drifted off.