SEPTEMBER 20th, 1997

"But… sir, I don't understand. The prophecy—"

"Only mattered because Voldemort chose to act on it, Harry," Dumbledore said sternly. "Divination is an imprecise art because of the human capacity to exercise free will. It shows us what may come to pass, not what must."

Harry frowned, still trying to understand. "So the prophecy about Ginny… only mattered because she acted on it?"

Dumbledore grew pensive, stroking his beard. "Yes, I would say so… although, as I think you've seen by now, the world is far more complex than any of us imagined it to be."

To Harry's left, the white expanse of this strange version of King's Cross Station darkened, and a million tiny stars winked to life, like Harry could walk forward and suddenly be in outer space. Gaseous, colorful nebulae painted the blackness in purples and blues and greens, swirling clouds of matter waiting to birth whole star systems into existence.

"Our world, Harry, is one of many," Dumbledore said softly, his eyes drifting toward the stars. "Ginny Weasley learned that months ago in Godric's Hollow, and I daresay that that discovery has shaped current events in ways none of us could have predicted."

"Meaning Ginny's light, right? The gem that Voldemort was after?"

Dumbledore nodded. "It was through his efforts to dominate her power that he discovered his own Horcruxes to be missing or endangered; if he had not learned that today, I am certain today's battle would not have taken place."

Dumbledore bowed his head, and Harry's stomach twisted— people were still fighting.

"Sir, I have to go back," he said desperately, taking a step toward his oldest mentor. "Even if Ginny can somehow use her power… she needs my help. There's still one Horcrux left, I have to finish the job—"

"And your soul will not rest until you do," Dumbledore finished with a nod. "I understand. But I must make sure you know, Harry, that you do have a choice— your actions today ensured that you do. If you choose to allow Ginny Weasley, and the others back at Hogwarts, to finish the road for you, you can… take a train, one might say. You can journey onward— to a new destination. No one would blame you for that— your sacrifices have been enormous."

"But I can choose to go back?"

"Yes. Your body still lives, and your soul… is on a little detour at the moment, but could turn around, if you wish it."

Harry glanced behind him toward the horrid fetus-like creature that was Lord Voldemort. "What about his soul?"

"He is on a little detour too. He'll be going back to his body soon, having had a preview of what awaits him here."

"There's no choice for him, sir? Like there is for me?"

Dumbledore looked at him kindly. "There could be, if he was willing to make it."

"But he won't."

"But he won't," Dumbledore agreed. "And so you must choose, for yourself. Will you go on, or go back?"

Harry took a deep breath. "I have to go back."

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling. "Then don't let me keep you. But before you go… there's a couple of people who I think might like to say hello, just for a moment."

The vast expanse of space faded away, leaving the same empty whiteness that was all around him, and when he turned to look, his mother, his father, and Sirius were standing a few feet away, smiling at him.

"Mum?" he whispered, taking a small step forward. "Dad? Are you… real?"

Lily Potter held out her arms, and her son ran to embrace her for the first time that he could remember. She was solid, not at all ghostly like she had been in the graveyard, and smelled faintly of cinnamon. Harry buried his face in her shoulder, crying, and soon he felt James' and Sirius' embrace around them, holding them together.

"There isn't much time," Lily whispered, stroking the back of his head just like she might a small child. "But we knew we had to see you if we could— just one time, just one moment."

"We're so proud of you, Harry," James said, holding him close. "We love you so much. We're with you always, my son— take this moment with you, when you leave."

"And know that we'll be waiting, when it's time for you to come back here," Sirius added, a smile on his face.

"I— I want to stay with you," Harry stuttered, not sure he was breathing— how could this even be real? "But… I have to go back. My friends… they need me."

Lily pulled back enough that she could look Harry in the eye; green eyes just like his own held his gaze, and she smiled at him as she cupped his cheek. "We know. One of your friends is about to have quite the adventure."

"You can help her end things, Harry," Sirius urged. "Help her set things right."

"I will," Harry said firmly, nodding his head. "I will."

"But Harry…"

"Lily, we have to go," James said in warning.

Lily bit her lip. "Just remember that she can't fight a war on two sides."

Harry's brow furrowed. "What? What does that—"

But he didn't get to finish his question, for the bright whiteness of the train station grew impossibly brighter, and he felt his loved ones' arms disappear, and with a start, he realized he was back in his body.

"Severus. Check the body."

Harry held as still as he could, silently thanking whoever might be listening that Voldemort had chosen Snape— Snape, of all people— to check him.

Thinking of Snape made him think of his mother, and the cryptic words she had offered right before his vision of what he assumed was the afterlife ended. She can't fight a war on two sides. What did that mean?

"Dead," Snape declared, and Harry dared to breathe a quiet sigh of relief.

Ginny screamed as soon as the pronouncement was made, and Hagrid let out a horrible wail, and then the cacaphony of Death Eaters' cheers started amidst their master's apparent triumph. Harry ached to tell them, ached to show them somehow that he was alright, that it wasn't over… but if he stood up now, there was nothing to stop a dozen Avada Kedavra's from coming straight toward him, and he knew without a doubt that he would not survive the curse for a third time in his life.

"What shall we do now, my lord?"

"Reclaim Hogwarts, of course. They will stop fighting once they see the boy's body. Their symbol has been broken. I still need to secure my treasure, and once that is done, and any straggling rebels are dealt with… then we can go home."

Harry's eyes were closed, but he heard the swish of Voldemort's robes on the ground as he walked, headed in Ginny's direction. Harry's jaw tightened— he could not hear what Voldemort was saying, but the sight of Ginny when he had entered the clearing had been enough to turn his stomach. He held his breath, trying to stay as still as possible, horribly aware of how many people were around.

"Why are you doing this?" Ginny demanded, making Harry's jaw grow tighter still. "You already won. You already got everything you wanted. Why are you trying to hurt me?"

He couldn't open his eyes, because someone could see, but what was happening to Ginny? He needed to help her, that was what he had told his parents—

"We'll have the half-giant carry the body. We march on Hogwarts together."

Harry tensed as his body levitated up, and he made himself relax, made himself hold his body limp like a corpse as he was deposited into a sobbing Hagrid's arms. If only he could reassure him somehow, but Harry knew deep in his heart that Hagrid would not be able to conceal his reaction, conceal his relief at the fact that Harry was alive after all. It would have to wait.

But wait for what?

His mother's words echoed in his mind once again. The fight wasn't over— he knew that for sure. But it was in Ginny's hands now. What would she do with it?

The group started walking forward, and Harry held himself still, resolving to wait for the proper moment— whatever that would be— to reveal himself.


SEPTEMBER 20th, 1997

Draco watched, half-awestruck, half-horrified, as the bodies rose in unison, a tiny pinprick of golden light buried in each of their chests. Uneasy murmurs went through the crowd of Death Eaters behind Voldemort; some of them visibly took a step back, teetering on the edge of running away. Birds swarmed in the distance, though they were flying ever-closer.

"Master—" Bellatrix started, but before she could finish speaking, Ginny's outstretched arms flung forward, and Voldemort let out a startled yelp as he went careening towards her, his arms pinwheeling at his sides.

That brought out a startled gasp from the crowd, who were definitely backing up now. Draco tightened his grip on his wand, preparing for… well, anything. This was unprecedented— an unprecedented use of Ginny's power, and unprecedented for Lord Voldemort to be tossed through the air like a rag doll.

It was like the light was pulling him inside, pulling him inside the orb that surrounded Ginny. Her arms were still reaching forward, like she was grasping for him, but Lord Voldemort did not want to be held. His face ashen, he twisted in Ginny's grip, and as he did so, his form became shadowy and incorporeal before disappearing entirely.

"Where did he go?"

"He's abandoned us!"

"Run for your lives!"

"Silence, you fools!" Bellatrix bellowed, turning around to face her now-fleeing compatriots, but once again, she found herself interrupted.

Potter sprung to life in Hagrid's arms; the half-giant let out a startled cry as Potter jumped to the ground and, as though he had been waiting for it, Snape sprung into action.

"Avada Kedavra."

Draco's Aunt Bella collapsed to the ground, dead, a startled expression frozen on her face. A horrible scream rent the air, and Draco's blood chilled as he realized that wherever Voldemort was, he had not left the battlefield.

And a battlefield it was becoming. Ginny's army walked forward as one; they ignored the Order of the Phoenix, ignored the Hogwarts staff, ignored Potter and all of the others. Their focus was solely on the Death Eaters.

They aren't Inferi, Draco realized, his eyes on the tiny bits of light inside of their chests. Inferi were mindless puppets, enchanted by Dark magic. These… things, whatever they were, were showing judgment. He watched as one pushed right past a stunned Longbottom, ignoring him entirely in favor of a group of Snatchers who were running as fast as they could.

"I can't Apparate!" one yelled. "It's not working!"

"That's because you can't Apparate on Hogwarts grounds, you moron," Granger whispered from beside Draco, startling him enough to bring him back to the moment at hand.

"Harry," Weasley murmured, pointing at Potter, who was approaching them quickly. "Harry, are you… are you…?"

"Dead?" Potter said with an easy smile, coming to a stop in front of them. "No. You were right— somehow, I made it out one more time."

That was all Weasley and Granger needed to hear. They threw their arms around Potter so tightly Draco was amazed he could breathe, and Potter actually laughed as he returned their embrace. The black spot in his chest, Draco observed, was gone.

"Trying to give Ginny a run for her money?" Draco said with a smirk. "Dying and coming back to life?"

Potter smiled at him— an unnerving sight. "I think she still has me beat in that department."

"Let's keep it that way," Weasley said, pulling away from the hug, his eyes on the battle. "I thought the fighting was over, but I guess we're on for round two."

"We should—"

"No, don't you see?" Draco interrupted, taking a step closer to them. "She's piloting them. Look at the light."

They frowned at him. "What light?"

"The… the light! The light in their chests. It's small, but it's definitely there. Can you… can you not see it?"

"All I see are a bunch of reanimated corpses wandering around, chasing Death Eaters," Weasley said.

Draco swore. "So does that mean you didn't see Ginny—"

"Oh we saw all that," Granger interrupted, her eyes wide. "Every last second of it."

Draco turned, his heart seizing as he realized he had taken his eyes off of Ginny, and for a horrible moment couldn't find her.

"Where is—"

"Look up," Potter said, his eyes also growing wide. Draco followed his gaze and saw that Ginny had levitated up out of the courtyard and was continuing to slowly ascend up into the air.

"What is she doing?" Weasley asked.

In spite of everything, Draco smiled. "Taking the fight to where she feels most comfortable— up in the sky."

I believe in you, he sent across the bridge, even though the connection felt wavy and distorted. I love you. Come back to me soon.

He frowned as he lingered on the connection. There was something… off about it, something he couldn't quite name. It felt a little like the forest near the standing stones had… like they weren't alone. He could feel even as he reached for his door handle that if he were to step onto the bridge now, its shape would be distorted— maybe wouldn't even hold his weight.

For the moment, at least, he would have to trust in Ginny's ability to take care of herself. Where she was going, he could not follow.

"Come on," he said, refocusing on Potter, Weasley, and Granger. "We should get people inside— they don't need to fight. She's doing this so that no one else has to die. She can't bring back the dead, not really, but she can save the living."

The three of them exchanged uneasy glances before nodding.

"Since when did you get to understand my sister so well?" Weasley asked as the four of them hurried toward McGonagall and Shacklebolt.

"I had a busy summer."


SEPTEMBER 20th, 1997

It was like she didn't have a body. No, that wasn't it. It was like she had many bodies. She was in everything and everywhere, all at once— every breath of air, every beating heart, every blade of grass stretching towards the sky… Ginny Weasley knew them all. She was them all.

She had fallen into the lifeblood of the universe, and she was flowing through every living thing, a kaleidoscope of experiences that transcended her human capacity to comprehend. The very scale of it took her breath away.

She flexed her fingers, trying to focus, trying to hone her awareness. She could revel in this magic later, if there was time. For now, she had a job to do.

Voldemort had slipped out of her grasp down on the ground, but he could not escape the battlefield— it had taken only a moment's thought, only a passing whim as she rose, for a barrier to construct itself around the grounds. He would have to face her, sooner or later— his wounded pride would demand it if nothing else. She smiled as she recalled the furious terror on his face as the Elder Wand had flown out of his hand and into hers— the reverse of the glee he had displayed months ago when he had taken the wand from her. He would be regrouping now, if she had to guess— trying to figure out the best way to combat her without a wand.

She could go looking for him, if she needed to. She knew, somehow, that with a simple wave of her hand, she could reshape the entire landscape down below. She imagined the Forbidden Forest disappearing in a great wave of destruction, imagined the Black Lake drying up to nothing, imagined the very earth beneath them fashioning traps of stone for Lord Voldemort.

It was possible. But it would not be necessary. She could rip the whole world apart if she wanted to, in pursuit of her goal, but her goal was not the only thing that mattered.

She shifted her consciousness, shifted it down toward the ground, where Death Eaters were fighting to remain free. Thinking that she had created Inferi, one of them had conjured a raging fire to attack her newfound army. Distant screams echoed across the battlefield— whose, she couldn't tell. She focused, and the fire buffetted around her resurrected soldiers; they walked straight through, as though the flames were a light breeze on a balmy autumn evening. These people's souls had left this plane, but that didn't mean she wanted their bodies to be destroyed. She couldn't let—

Ginny frowned. There was a tug, a tug of… something, against her consciousness. Something exigent, some force insistent on her notice.

Where is he? a raspy voice demanded. Kill him! Kill him!

She shook her head, brushing off the unfamiliar sensation. It was pulling on her, pulling like a child on her robe sleeve, buzzing around like an annoying fly. But it was far away from here… not on this plane, she knew deep in her gut. It was a distraction— she should ignore it.

Would her family understand why she had done what she had done with the bodies? Would Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Remus Lupin? Draco would understand, she knew— she would have to trust in him to get the others to safety. It would be better if no one had to die, but for those already dead… hopefully they would forgive her, in the afterlife. Forgive her for using them, forgive her for not saving them in time…

But there were others she could still save. Theodore Nott's terror pulled at her attention down on the ground. He was on his knees, his heart beating so fast that Ginny could barely distinguish one pulse from the next, as the body of an Auror approached him.

"Please, I'm sorry, I surrender, I surrender!"

At Ginny's will, the Auror stopped and held out his hand.

Come on, give him your wand…

Draco was quicker with a well-timed Incarcerous. Ginny watched through the Auror's eyes as Draco snatched Nott's wand, nodded uncertainly at the Auror, and then pulled Nott to his feet, dragging him toward the edge of the courtyard.

It would be better for them not to die. Better for the Death Eaters, even the most heinous of them, to face trial—

An explosion of power, so loud it reverberated through her bones, smashed into Ginny, pushing her backward slightly through the air. The light around her stuttered for a second, and she shook her head, trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

"You thought you were special because you could fly?" a furious Lord Voldemort demanded. "Because you could animate the dead? You are nothing!"

He was floating across from her, floating in his own sphere of black, lightning-tinged energy. Ginny knew immediately that it was a poor imitation of her own power— conjured through some form of Dark magic, probably. But it wasn't the same, even if it looked similar.

Kill him! the voice demanded again, echoing in her mind as it pushed against her. Was there more than one? It sounded like it… What was this?

"Pay attention, Ginny— wouldn't want to think you were ignoring me."

Another blast of Voldemort's power barreled toward her, and Ginny blocked it, echoes of kill him! reverberating through her mind.


SEPTEMBER 20th, 1997

"Thank you, thank you, thank you—"

"Shut up, Nott. I didn't save you."

Draco pulled his former housemate out of the way of the proceeding army, back toward the courtyard where the Order of the Phoenix had made their new base.

"It was going to kill me…"

"No it wasn't."

The battlefield was chaos, but, if Draco looked closely, no one was dying. Ginny's army was chasing down the Death Eaters and Snatchers, walking straight through fire to get to their targets, but once they caught them… they just held them. No gnawing of flesh, no ripping people limb from limb… nothing like an Inferius. When he had made eye contact with that Auror… it had been like looking at Ginny, just for a moment. He was more sure than ever— she was piloting them, trying to save lives.

Even, apparently, Death Eater lives.

Draco pushed Nott toward the middle of the courtyard. "Sit down there and don't cause trouble."

"We're taking prisoners now, eh?" Blaise asked, strolling forward.

"You can be head jailer if you like."

"I always wanted to be a jailer, how did you know? Now my CV will get me that Azkaban job for certain—"

Draco flinched at the mention of the wizard prison— something he did not want to think about right now. This battle might be his last free moment for the rest of his life…

"She's not killing them," he announced to the crowd, making himself focus on the present. "We can take them prisoner. Let them… let them stand trial…"

Like he would no doubt be doing very soon.

"You're sure?" Potter asked, taking a couple of steps closer to him. "If that's the case, we can help."

"Positive. But we need to be careful—"

"Must you go?" Mother asked, hurrying forward. "I was all for fighting when it was inevitable, but if there's a way for you to stay safe—"

"I have to go, Mother."

Mother squared her shoulders. "Then I shall assist you."

"You don't have to—"

"Don't talk back to your mother."

Draco blanched, and Potter actually had the gall to laugh.

"Thanks, Mrs. Malfoy. We appreciate the help."

Mother nodded, and Draco pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Okay, so then—"

"I want to help!" Kathleen called, crossing the courtyard. "What can I do?"

"Me too," Lovegood added, coming to stand next to Potter. "Me and Neville both. What's next, Draco?"

Draco raised his eyebrows, thrown off by being addressed by his first name. "Okay, we can't all go—"

"There's a lot of enemy combatants out there, isn't there?" Granger replied. "The more of us there are taking prisoners, the faster it'll go."

"But if too many of us are out there, we become a very appealing target," Draco argued. "We need to stay far enough back that we're not getting thrown into battle ourselves."

"Should be simple enough," Weasley said from beside Granger. "Seeing as they're still running away. We just stay back and grab the stragglers."

A giant's roar echoed, making everyone jump.

"And we stay out of the way of the giants," Weasley added with a shrug.

"And the Acromantulas," Kathleen shuddered. "I had no idea the forest had so many."

"I saw their nests once," Weasley said, growing pale. "We haven't seen the last of them."

"Alright, alright, we're wasting time," Draco snapped. "Someone should stay here with Blaise to keep an eye on whoever we bring back. We'll take their wands, but don't trust anyone as far as you can throw them."

"I think I'm sufficiently qualified for that task, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco turned to see Snape approaching him, his right robe sleeve wet with blood. They held eye contact for a long moment, Draco's brow furrowed.

"So you were a double agent after all," Draco said flatly. "All this time. That's why… why you were so angry with me…"

"We can discuss the matter later. For now— you have work to do."

Draco bit his lip before nodding.

"I didn't think you had it in you, Mr. Malfoy," Snape continued. "I'm pleased to see I was wrong. If we both make it through this… we will have much to talk about."

"One of many conversations you'll be having," Potter added with a significant look, and Snape actually looked a bit pale.

"Yes, I suppose so. Now get out of here— this war won't be won by a one-woman army."

There was that tugging again—insistent, irritating like a swarm of gnats. Draco shook his head, trying to ignore it. A side effect of Ginny's magic, maybe? It was certainly making their connection strain…

Snape turned his back on them, and Draco hurried forward toward the edge of the courtyard, his wand gripped tightly in his hand.

"Malfoy!"

Potter fell into stride with him, running next to him.

"What?"

"Long story, but when I… died… when the soul piece in me died… I saw my mum. And… and when I said I had to come back to help Ginny, she told me she can't fight a war on two sides. Do you have any idea what that means?"

Draco frowned. "No. Unless she meant fighting down here on the ground and fighting Voldemort up in the air. It's a lot of things for her to focus on at once."

"Then let's take care of the ground," Potter said firmly.

Hang in there, Ginny. You can do this.

But he wasn't sure if his words reached her.


SEPTEMBER 20th, 1997

Let us through! Kill him! Finish it!

Ginny gritted her teeth as she sent another blast of energy careening towards Voldemort, who narrowly dodged it.

Don't you think that's what I'm trying to do? she snapped, blocking Voldemort's next attack with the sphere of light she was floating in.

Ginny Weasley.

Alys?

That was Alys, reaching out to her for the very first time.

It is almost over, Ginny Weasley. You can kill him. Let me help you.

How? Ginny asked as she focused her energy between her hands, creating a ball of lightning.

Open the gate.

What gate?

The gate between worlds, of course, Alys snapped, sounding impatient. Ginny felt her take a deep breath before she continued. If you open the gate, we can help you. All things are possible for you as long as you wield this power to fulfill what you initially sought.

"If you think you can destroy the greatest sorcerer to ever live, Ginny, you are mistaken!"

There was a flash, and then she wasn't seeing the sky anymore. She was in the Chamber of Secrets, holding the diary. Its leather cover was smooth and familiar under her grip.

Water dripped, echoing on the cold stone floor. The scent of damp mildew filled her nose, mixed with the musky smell Ginny knew belonged to the basilisk. She looked down at her hands… so small now…

Ginny Weasley! Pay attention!

She was eleven years old. She had murdered the school roosters, at Tom's command. She had used their blood to write threatening messages on the walls, sending the whole castle into a panic. She had opened the Chamber so, so many times… No one had died, not yet… But it was only a matter of time.

Or maybe Ginny was the one who was going to die. Right here, right now, on this cold stone floor…

Wake up! It is an illusion, you stupid girl! He is right in front of you!

Open the gate! Let us out!

The diary floated out of her hands, glowing with a pale, unearthly light. Ginny stood, frozen, as it landed on the ground a few feet away from her and flipped open. Tom Riddle rose out of it, fully formed… and very much alive.

Ginny gasped— her voice so much smaller in this tiny body— and she took an involuntary step backward, her footstep splashing in the puddle behind her.

Tom smiled at her. "It's alright, Ginny. You and I are old friends, remember?"

He walked toward her, and she wanted to run, but she couldn't, she couldn't—

"Why would you run? You've helped me a great deal, Ginny— that's what friends are for, aren't they? You've taken care of me, all these long months… I think it's time I returned the favor."

Ginny Weasley!

Kill him! Kill him!

"Go away," she said in a small, shaky voice. "You're not real."

He smirked at her. "Are you sure? How could I be your friend if I wasn't real? Here, why don't we test it out?"

He had closed the distance between them. He towered over her this way, and he reached down to grab her hand, holding her palm against his.

"See?" he said, his smirk widening. "I am very real."

She tried to take a step back, but her fear was so overwhelming, she was drowning in it—

"Shh, you don't need to go anywhere. I'm going to take such good care of you now— just like you did for me, remember?"

You wretched girl!

"Y-you're going to hurt me."

"Not at all. It won't hurt even a little bit— you're just going to go inside that book over there, and then you can rest."

"It will kill me."

"No, I don't think it will— someone weaker than you, yes. Someone less important than you, yes. But you're special, Ginny. I know your family doesn't see it— shame on them. But that's why I'm your closest friend, isn't it? Isn't that what you told me, so long ago? That you were closer to me than you were to anyone else? I see you, Ginny— in a way no one else does. So I need you to trust me now."

He took a step backward, pulling her with him.

"What's inside the book?" she asked, eyeing it warily. "Why won't it kill me?"

"You could think of it like… a treasure vault. A magical place— it can look like anything, be anything. You'll be safe inside it— you'll never have to worry about anything, ever again. Won't that be nice? I can take care of you, and nothing bad will ever happen to you again, my precious thing."

Nothing bad. Bad things had happened to her before. She was so tired of bad things happening.

"Yes, I know you know what true pain is, Ginny," Tom crooned. "But it's over now. I showed you that before, remember? No pain, ever again."

Like in his study. He had taken away her pain, taken away the memories of Rookwood…

"That's right. No more Rookwood. Now if you just touch the book—"

That wasn't strictly true. Rookwood was still alive, as far as she knew. He had been there, in the clearing. Had he survived the battle?

"Fine, I'll kill him for you if that's what it takes," Tom snapped, momentarily losing his patience.

But Ginny wasn't paying attention to him. Her consciousness drifted, drifted out from this moment, looking for Rookwood. There he was, down on the ground, attacking Draco…

Attacking Draco!

"Ginny—" Tom warned.

Ginny Weasley! Alys demanded.

Elentiya! Let us out!

Ginny screamed, and the illusion shattered.


SEPTEMBER 20th, 1997

Draco and Rookwood circled each other, wands drawn. It had been stupid of him, after all of his lecturing the others, to run off on his own, but the sight of Rookwood blasting his way through the battlefield had been too tempting. After all this time… maybe Ginny's tormenter would finally get a taste of suffering.

"When the Dark Lord promised your death to me, boy, I had assumed it would have to be quick," Rookwood sneered before casting the Cruciatus, which Draco narrowly dodged. "But look at the luxuries opportunity provides. I can take my time with you now. And if Daddy Dearest should run to the rescue, well, then all the better."

"Avada Ke—"

"Expulso!"

Draco fell back onto the ground, the impact slamming through his sit-bones as his palms skidded against the rough earth. He hadn't cast the Killing Curse all day, not once since Jane… but he was going to Azkaban anyway. He could at least make sure Rookwood died before the battle was over. That would hopefully make Azkaban worth it.

"Crucio!"

Draco screamed, writhing on the ground, his vision blurry as Rookwood advanced, and he lifted his wand, ready to block, but he knew that the next curse wouldn't be something he could escape, would be something only two people had ever survived—

"Malfoy! We have to help him!"

That was Potter, off in the distance. Potter, coming to play the hero, as always. Maybe that would be a good thing—

Ginny's scream rent through the air, making Rookwood pause to look up at the sky. Every one of her soldiers threw their heads back and screamed with her, a deafening cacophony that had Draco covering his ears. What was wrong? Was she hurt? How could he help—

The stars in the sky grew brighter, brighter and brighter as Ginny continued to scream, so bright that for one horrible, awe-inspiring moment, the whole sky was white, and then there was an earth-shaking boom.

It happened so fast Draco almost couldn't make sense of it. The sky flashed white, and then subsided back to normal all at once, except there was a dragon falling out of the sky, a dragon made of starlight and nebulae and the blackness of space, and the dragon was flying, not falling, it was flying toward him, straight for him, its impossibly large jaws gaping—

Rookwood didn't even have time to scream. The dragon landed behind him, the impact of its weight shaking the ground, and it bit down on Rookwood head-first, its jaws clamping shut around his waist. People behind Draco screamed as the dragon shook its head and then pulled back, ripping Rookwood's body in half. Blood spattered all over Draco, who gasped in shock and fought down a gag as he saw a bit of Rookwood's spine dangling out of the dragon's mouth. The dragon spit out Rookwood's upper half, and oh Merlin, he was still alive, he was still alive

The dragon stepped on him, crushing him. Bones snapped, a series of horrible popping sounds that Draco knew could not be survived. Draco let out a shaky breath, his arms quavering underneath him as he tried to sit up.

The dragon looked toward him. It didn't even look corporeal, although obviously it had to be. Its body was made of darkness itself, though impossibly bright clouds of stardust— purple and blue and green and pink, a thousand different hues— swirled within it, flecked with millions of tiny pinpricks of starlight.

The dragon opened its mouth just a little bit, blood dripping from its fangs, steam rising from its nostrils. It was smiling at him, holding eye contact with him.

"Ginny?" he breathed.

The dragon leaned its head forward, bumping him in what he assumed was affection before rising up to its full height, letting out a terrible roar, and flying off towards the last remaining giant on the field.

"Malfoy! Malfoy, are you okay?"

That was Granger, yelling for him, and soon, he was surrounded, surrounded by Granger and Weasley and Potter and Lovegood and Kathleen.

"She saved me," he panted, trying to catch his breath, his body coursing with adrenaline. "She saved me."

"She pulled a bloody constellation out of the sky, is what she did," Weasley said, his eyes as wide as saucers as the dragon whipped the giant with its tail in the distance.

"Not just any constellation," Lovegood added, pointing at the sky. "The Draco constellation. Look!"

They all did, and sure enough, there was an empty space in the night sky where the Draco constellation normally stood.

Draco smiled in wonder. It was Ginny— he knew it. "She's piloting it, just like the others."

"You're saying Ginny… did that?" Kathleen said in a shaky voice, looking over toward Rookwood's mutilated corpse.

Draco looked over at it, his jaw growing tight. "He deserved it."

"Uh. Malfoy. What is that?"

"It's a dragon, obviously—"

"No. What is that?" Potter interrupted, pointing at a different point in the sky.

Draco's eyes widened. Far above them, behind Ginny, a large swirling mass of blue-green energy was beginning to form, larger than any Draco had seen before. It parted, opening a portal— it was the same thing Draco had watched happen in his father's memory of Godric's Hollow, it was opening onto the same place.

That tugging feeling was getting so strong… hard to ignore…

He prayed Ginny knew what she was doing.

"Malfoy? What is it?"

"The grand finale," he said grimly.


SEPTEMBER 20th, 1997

Ginny came back to awareness all at once, and as the dragon closed its jaws around Rookwood, she released the ball of lightning she had been forming, pushing it straight at Voldemort, who had moved closer to her during her stupor. It hit him straight-on— he screamed, curling in on himself in the air, and when he looked up at Ginny, his eyes were red with rage.

How do I kill him? she wondered as he flew away from her again, watching as his energy pulsed and writhed. Even with all this power, he's still a formidable enemy… I almost lost myself just now.

Let me help you, Ginny Weasley, Alys urged. Open the gate.

Alys? How can you help me?

You have seen what exists beyond this world. Release them. Command them. Use their power to amplify your own.

Ginny frowned, thinking back to her previous encounters with otherworldly creatures. The sprites had been kind and playful, though they seemed to lack much power of their own. The wolf-beast on the other hand had certainly had power… She recalled Voldemort screaming as he fell, impaled on shards of black ice… That would be good right about now…

Yes, you are right— use their power to fight for you. To fight with you. Open the gate.

But there had also been that other being… the shadow. Her mind flashed on the way it had looked at her, on its tone as it spoke to her, and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end.

Something about it wasn't right, just like when Tom had enchanted her into believing she was a princess. She couldn't put her finger on what, exactly, but something about it… She couldn't trust it. But neither could she continue on like this…

An idea struck her then, Ignotus Peverell's face swimming in her mind. He and his brothers and Alys all lived in this other plane… and they had all once been human.

You said the place where I've met you is like a central point, right? All worlds connect there?

Yes, Alys said impatiently.

And now that I've been able to use the light… I can control the magic?

Obviously— that is the Mother's gift.

Ginny took a deep breath. Voldemort had noticed the dragon she had summoned, which was currently slaying a giant down on the ground. He wasn't watching her— he was distracted. That was good.

Then I will open a portal, she said, and she could feel Alys's elation even from here. But only those who were once human can cross.

Alys's elation faded immediately, but Ginny didn't have time to ponder it. As soon as she thought of opening a portal, a rift in the sky formed above her, swirling with the same blue-green light she had come to associate with the strange twilit world Alys dwelled in. She lifted her arms above her head and then pulled them wide, and the portal ripped open, bigger than any she had ever seen before. All across it, little beams of golden light arced, making a giant net.

As soon as the portal ripped open, the tugging Ginny had been fighting against became impossibly strong. The voices demanding Voldemort's death became legion in her mind, and she fought the urge to cover her ears.

Ginny Weasley, what have you done!

Voldemort's eyes were wide as he beheld the portal. He watched it for a moment, then looked back at Ginny and smiled wickedly.

"You're finally ready to give me what I've been asking for, little saint. That's good— though I think we could have skipped some of the theatrics."

He flew upward, toward the portal, and Ginny held still, trying to trust her instincts, trying not to panic.

"I can sense your power!" Voldemort called into the portal. "I can help you— we can work together. This land is—"

A ghostly form of an old man came through the portal, and Voldemort visibly recoiled.

"No!" he yelled. "I am not doing this again! Get away! Expulso!"

The man stayed still, but he was soon joined by another ghostly figure, and then another, and then another. They effortlessly floated through the barrier Ginny had created, crowding together, but there was pressure on the other side of it too, pressure from things that wanted through, things that had never been human—

Ginny held her arms out to her sides, grimacing, feeling like she was trying to hold back a tidal wave. She couldn't do this, she was breaking apart—

"Ginny."

She looked up, panting, and saw a ghostly woman approaching her. She was young, maybe a few years older than Ginny was, and was smiling at her… smiling at her with kind eyes…

"Mrs. Potter?" Ginny asked, wonderstruck.

Lily Potter nodded.

"What are you doing here?"

Lily looked back at the barrier, where more and more souls were pouring through. "You made it so that we can cross— at least for now. Anyone with a vested interest in seeing Lord Voldemort defeated is answering your call."

"These are all people he murdered?" Horror laced her voice.

"Directly or indirectly, yes."

The pressure from behind the portal was so strong.

"I'm not sure I can do this," she whispered, her arms buckling for a moment. "It's too much. There's too many…"

Too many things to fight. Too much to try to do at once, she was alone, she was just one person—

"We're here to help you, Ginny," Lily Potter said kindly, floating towards her. "Keep that barrier up, and let us help you. Let your friends down below help you."

Ginny glanced down toward the ground. Impossibly far away. But there were Fred and George, tying up an unconscious Death Eater… There were Lupin and Tonks, grinning from ear to ear as they embraced… there was Kathleen, and Mrs. Barrows, and Luna, all working together…

She wasn't alone. She never had been.

"We can do it together," Lily said, and Ginny nodded.

She looked toward Voldemort, who was firing curse after curse at the growing crowd of spectral figures, but she could see that his reaction time was slowing down. He was unnerved, and he was fighting without a wand. He could not keep this up indefinitely, and he knew it. He locked eyes with her, and she saw real fear in them for the very first time.

"How do I end it?" Ginny asked, her arms aching.

"You tell me," Lily replied. "What do you see?"

Ginny watched as Lord Voldemort fought against a sea of ghosts. The figures' bodies glowed with a faint bluish-white light, haunting and opalescent against the black night sky. Voldemort was like a black spot in the middle of them, his own aura writhing and pulsing in his barely-concealed terror.

A black spot. Just like inside the Horcruxes. It was his soul, fighting for survival.

"Can they… can they bring him closer to me? I'm not sure I can move. This pressure—"

Lily nodded. "Whatever you wish. Don't lose your hold on the barrier."

"Mrs. Potter, what's trying to get through? What's on the other side?"

Lily grimaced. "Nothing that belongs here. Keep your focus, now— we're right here with you."

You're six years old, and your mum and dad just bought you your first ever broomstick. You're ecstatic and can't wait to fly it. Bill takes you outside and watches you fly. You laugh and laugh because you feel completely free.

Draco's voice. It was warbly and distant, but unmistakably there, shouting across the bridge… maybe shouting from the ground too.

The army of souls had grabbed hold of Voldemort's arms and were gliding towards her. He struggled, his eyes wide, but he couldn't break their hold.

"No! Let go of me!"

You're eight years old, and you're going to your first professional Quidditch match. Gwenog Jones executes a perfect Dopplebeater Defense against the Chudley Cannons, allowing their Seeker to catch the Snitch. You're jumping up and down, so excited, and giggle to yourself about Ron complaining about the Cannons' loss.

Draco was here with her. She wasn't alone.

"I will make you regret this! I am the greatest sorcerer in the world! All of you are dead because of me!"

He was only a few feet away from her now, and somehow she wasn't afraid, even though he looked just as he had in the Chamber of Secrets.

You're eleven years old, and a great tawny owl arrives at the kitchen window. It's holding your Hogwarts letter. Finally, it's here, at last. Just like all your brothers before you— you get to go away to school and learn to be a real witch. You imagine all the adventures you'll have, all the friends you'll make, and you can't wait for it to be September.

From the very beginning, he had tried to take from her. Tried to destroy her. He had ruined so, so many people's lives…

You're fourteen years old, and you've just been made temporary Seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Now you can be taken seriously as a player— no more being in your brothers' shadows. Your crowning achievement is beating Cho Chang to the Snitch and winning the Quidditch Cup for Gryffindor.

… and yet, as she watched him struggle, as she watched him snarl and rage and thrash, she could only feel pity for him.

The barrier held strong behind her.

You're fifteen years old, and you're in the orchard behind your house, playing Quidditch with Ron, Hermione, and Harry. You're practicing for tryouts. Harry's going to be captain, and he wants to hold tryouts for all positions, so you're helping Ron practice. You're going to be a Chaser this year, the position you really want. You throw the Quaffle, Ron blocks it, and Harry catches it down below you. He smiles at you, and you're happy. Part of the group at last. You soar up to the sky once he tosses the Quaffle to you, and you're above the whole world. Nothing can touch you now— you're invincible.

He was very close to her now— so close she could reach out and touch him.

"You're no murderer, Ginny— I know your heart, deep, deep down," he called, having to yell to make himself heard over the wind around them. "I forgive you— we can start over. There is no need for all of this."

You're fifteen years old, and you're on a hill, swinging from a great oak tree, overlooking an endless forest. Time stands still— there is no fear of the past, no dread of the future. There's only here and now, right in this moment. You're flying, and I'm right behind you, there to catch you if you should fall. You're free in this moment, and that's all that matters. I'm right there behind you.

He forgave her, he said. But he saw no reason to seek her forgiveness. Her mind flashed on memory after memory from the last year. Flying to Godric's Hollow. Waking up strapped to a table in a windowless room. Screaming in pain as a dark curse branded her skin. Sitting in a dark theater hundreds of years in the future, the threat of Draught of Living Death hanging over her head like a dangling sword. A dark, featureless space… a treasure vault. A prison without end.

Never again. It would end now.

"Goodbye, Tom."

Ginny reached her hands forward, watching as they glowed golden and became incorporeal, and then she shoved them straight into his chest, reaching for the soul housed inside it.

He screamed louder than Ginny had ever heard anyone scream, and she gritted her teeth, reaching inside. The pressure from the barrier was so heavy against her back, and Tom Riddle's soul recoiled from her reach, curling up inside his chest like a wounded animal.

It hurt so much. Was she screaming too? She thought she might be…

You're sixteen years old, and when you look inside yourself, you see a door. It's made of cherrywood, with iron hinges and a round, old-fashioned doorknob. The top of the door is rounded too— it belongs in a cozy house, warm and comfortable and safe.

She reached for the shard of blackness, her back aching.

You open the door, and there's a bridge on the other side. It stretches so far across you can't see the other end, but you don't need to, because I'm there waiting for you.

Draco was waiting for her.

We go down the stairs, down to the beach. It's a sunny day, and a light breeze tickles your face. The sand is warm and soft under your feet, and I take your hand, pulling you toward the water.

Toward the sea. Draco was like the sea.

We dive in, and the water is so deliciously warm, and if we swim out, we can see coral. Look at how the light shines on it, how vibrant the colors are. There's a whole world down there, waiting for us to explore.

A whole world. A whole world waiting for her. Life was waiting for her.

We come up for air, laughing, and as you look to the horizon, to that impossibly far away point where the sky meets the sea, you know that you're going to be happy for a long… long… time…

She was going to be happy. He was with her. He was waiting for her.

Come back to me, Ginny.

Ginny grabbed hold of Tom Riddle's soul at last, and yanked.


SEPTEMBER 20th, 1997

The tugging had gotten impossibly strong, so strong he could barely stand upright. The battle had ground to a standstill; everyone was riveted on the portal, on the mass of what Draco instinctively knew were souls pouring out of it.

The wind had picked up, buffeting them down on the ground. He lifted one arm over his brow, blocking dust that had gotten kicked up.

Come on, Ginny, you can do this…

But she was afraid. He could feel it from here. Afraid of Voldemort, and of something else, something he couldn't quite name… Was she feeling the same tugging he was, the same pressure? It was unbearable just standing here— he couldn't imagine trying to fight like this.

He had to help her. So he did the only thing he could think of. He shouted the same phrase he had used so many times before, when he had needed Ginny to remember herself, when she had gotten lost in power greater than any human was meant to have.

He could feel Potter and the others staring at him as he shouted, but he couldn't care about them. Ginny was his only focus. He stumbled forward, towards her, and he felt rather than saw people moving out of his way.

Let us out! the voices bellowed, making Draco's ears ring. Let us through, human woman!

Leave her alone, he intoned, gritting his teeth. "You're eleven years old…"

The pressure really was unbearable— like a million hands grabbing at him, pulling at him…

Ginny couldn't fight like this.

Clenching his jaw still further, he pushed back against the force, which seemed to come aware of him for the first time. His stomach tightened, but he didn't have time to be afraid. Ginny and Voldemort were screaming, and it was so close to ending, he could sense it, he was sure of it—

"You're sixteen years old, and when you look inside yourself, you see a door. It's made of cherrywood, with iron hinges and a round, old-fashioned doorknob. The top of the door is rounded too— it belongs in a cozy house, warm and comfortable and safe," he shouted, barely able to make himself heard over the wind. "You open the door, and there's a bridge on the other side. It stretches so far across you can't see the other end, but you don't need to, because I'm there waiting for you. We go down the stairs, down to the beach. It's a sunny day, and a light breeze tickles your face. The sand is warm and soft under your feet, and I take your hand, pulling you toward the water. We dive in, and the water is so deliciously warm, and if we swim out, we can see coral. Look at how the light shines on it, how vibrant the colors are. There's a whole world down there, waiting for us to explore."

"Malfoy—" Potter started.

"Don't interrupt!" Granger hissed, and a small, distant part of Draco had room to be amused that, for once in his life, he was grateful for Hermione Granger.

"We come up for air, laughing, and as you look to the horizon, to that impossibly far away point where the sky meets the sea, you know that you're going to be happy for a long… long… time…"

He could barely catch his breath… barely stay focused… what was this force? So heavy…

Come back to me, Ginny…

He knew it the moment it happened. The cacophonous screaming had stopped, all at once, and Voldemort's body fell, limp, out of the sky. The dragon roared and started flying toward Ginny, but even as it rose into the air, it faded from view. The sky was lightening too— it was over.

Ginny's light gradually subsided around her as the mass of souls went back the way they had came, and once they were gone the portal crackled before snapping shut. Instantly, Ginny fell, plummeting toward the ground.

"Ginny!" Potter yelled, running forward, and Draco had the vague sense of the others following behind him.

"Arresto Momentum!" he yelled, pointing his wand in the air, and Ginny's descent slowed, but he couldn't run to her… the pressure was still there… it wasn't going away, it was getting worse

If we can't have her light, we'll take you instead, a nasty voice whispered, and Draco grimaced as he dropped to his knees. No one was paying him any attention. Potter caught an unconscious Ginny as she got close to the ground, surrounded by family and friends, and Draco watched as he said something, something Draco couldn't make out…

She was with Potter. That was a good thing. He would take care of her— make sure she was alright. That was all he could really ask for…

All he really deserved.

Bye, Weasley, he whispered, and then all went dark.


SEPTEMBER 20th, 1997

Ginny's brow furrowed as she woke up, blinking.

"She's okay!" Harry called out, making her jump. "She's waking up!"

"Harry?" she murmured, trying to come back to awareness. "What happened?"

"You did it," Harry said, beaming. "It's over."

Ginny broke out into a huge smile, relief like she had never imagined flooding her body, and soon everyone was hugging her in Harry's arms— Ron and Hermione and Mum and Dad and Kathleen and Luna and Percy and Neville and Professor McGonagall and—

She jumped, a memory floating back to her, from right before she lost consciousness…

Bye, Weasley…

"Where's Draco?"

Harry looked around. "I'm not sure, he was right behind us. Malfoy?"

Everyone started to look around, and as people moved, Ginny's eyes landed on a body… a body surrounded by a weeping Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy.

"No!" Ginny lunged out of Harry's arms, pushing him away, and she ran toward Draco, ran as fast as her legs would carry her. He wasn't glowing, why wasn't he glowing—

"My son!" Narcissa wailed. "My son!"

She had dragged him into her lap, stroking his forehead. Lucius knelt beside her, trying to hold her, but Narcissa would not be held.

Ginny skidded to her knees beside him, heart racing. "Is he… is he…"

She couldn't make herself say it. He wasn't, he wasn't, not after everything—

"H-he's still breathing," Narcissa stuttered. "But he won't wake, no matter what we do. Ennervate! Ennervate!"

She was right. He did not wake.

Ginny frowned as she reached out to grab his hand. It was clammy and cold. "Come on, wake up," she whispered. She had the vague sense of a crowd forming around them, but she couldn't look at them; her eyes were riveted on Draco's face.

"He's still alive, but I can't see his light," she murmured, fighting the panicked beating of her own heart. "How does that make sense?"

"Light?" Lucius demanded. "What do you mean?"

"He usually glows a bright white, brighter than anybody… his soul—" Ginny's eyes widened as she interrupted herself. "His soul isn't in his body."

"But that means you can find it, right?" Narcissa said, grasping onto Ginny's arm. "If it's his soul that's the problem."

"I—"

"Please, please," Narcissa begged. "I'll do anything, please save my son…"

"Narcissa is right," Lucius said gravely, looking up at her. "Your souls are tied. If he… if he lives, you should be able to find him."

Ginny took a deep breath, her hands shaking. "I can… I can try." She closed her eyes, reaching for the cherrywood door, just like Draco had told her moments ago…

She opened the door, and stepped out onto the bridge.

"Draco? Draco! Where are you?"

There was no answer.

She raced across the bridge, her arms pumping at her sides, her heart pounding in her chest. The Malfoys had to be right… hadn't Draco said the same thing, back when they had first made this connection? He had said that witches and wizards used to use this spell in dangerous times, to find their spouse if they were ever separated… But could those people have anticipated their spouse losing their soul?

She couldn't think about that right now. If she started jumping to conclusions, she would fall apart, and Draco needed her now, he was lost somewhere, waiting for her—

She reached the black door, its ornate golden carvings glinting in the sunlight. She yanked on the door handle, but it wouldn't open, no matter how hard she pulled.

She paused, catching her breath. That wasn't so unusual— Draco had told her that would be the case, that neither of them could forcibly open the other's door. But he had to be able to hear her, somehow…

She put her palms against the door, feeling the grains of the wood, and inhaled the scent of the sea.

"Show me where you are," she whispered. "Show me where to find you."

A flash of a foreign, twilit sky, streaked with aurora, crossed her vision.

Ginny gasped, opening her eyes. "He's on the other side."

"The other side? The other side of what?" Lucius demanded.

"Through the portal," Ginny whispered, and Lucius's eyes widened.

"Then you must open another one," Narcissa said in a deliberately calm voice. "So that he can come back."

Ginny bit her lip, her eyes wet with tears. "I'm not sure I can… if Voldemort is dead, that means my light is gone…"

She reached inside, and found that, contrary to what she expected, the light of the gem was still inside her, but it was behind the same unbreakable wall it had been all this time. She pounded against it, trying to break through, but it held firm.

"Please, you have to try," Narcissa begged, and Ginny gritted her teeth with the effort.

"It won't," she bit out. "I'm trying, but…"

"He did everything in his power to save you!" Lucius exclaimed, and Ginny was shocked to see tears streaming down his face. "You have to save him, you have to."

Please, Great Queen, I need your help one more time… let me open another portal…

The memory of the pressure, of the weight of thousands of inhuman hands clawing at her, flashed across her mind.

"I'm going to find a way to save him," she said, convincing herself along with them, "but I can't open a portal— even if I can somehow use the light again, we risk letting things through that none of us stand a chance of defeating."

Luna came to kneel down next to her, her usually serene face lined with sadness. "He helped us— all of us. Now we have to help him."

It struck her in that moment that she had missed Luna so, so much, so much that her heart ached with it. "How?" she whispered, her voice quavering as she looked up at Luna.

"I'm not sure. It seems impossible, but then, so did me seeing you again. If anyone could figure it out, it's you."

Ginny bit her lip. "I appreciate your confidence, Luna, but—"

"It's not confidence, it's common sense," Blaise interrupted, stepping forward. "You know more about this multiple worlds stuff than anybody. Come on, think— in everything you've learned, in everything you've seen, is there anything that can help him? Some way to access the other side without ripping a hole in the sky?"

Echoes of chants, centuries-old, sounded in Ginny's mind… memories of women dancing amongst standing stones, under the moonlight…

They had been in a thin place. A place where the veil between the worlds was thin. She looked out across the Hogwarts grounds, noticing the waves of energy in the air. Surely a place where the dead had risen again, a place where departed souls had again walked earth-side, counted as a thin place?

Alys's group hadn't physically crossed any barriers, and Ginny hadn't been able to see properly at the time, but Nicholas Malfoy's words echoed in her mind.

World-walker.

She took a deep breath. "I need thirteen people."

"Count me in," Luna said, rising to her feet.

"And me," Blaise said, coming to stand beside her.

Ginny rose to her feet. "I'll need you to make a circle."

"We'll all help," Harry said, taking a step forward. "Luna's right— Malfoy saved all of us, at one point or another. We don't have to like him, but we owe it to him to help him."

Ginny nodded at him in gratitude as more and more people volunteered.

Soon, she had them all positioned— Luna, Blaise, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Lucius, Narcissa, Mum, Dad, Bill, Fleur, Neville, and Kathleen all stood in a ring around Draco's body, spaced equally apart… just like standing stones. She wasn't sure this was going to work… but she didn't know what else to try.

"It's very important that you all stay still, no matter what happens, and that no one crosses past you into the circle," she said, standing by Draco. "You're acting as a barrier but also as a container. If you move… it could disrupt things, and I don't know what that would mean but it wouldn't be good. Do you understand?"

The group murmured their assent. Others were standing around on the outside of the ring, watching with wide eyes.

Ginny took a deep breath, looking down at Draco. She had to find him. She had to.

She laid down next to him, her eyes on the clear afternoon sky, and focused.

"We stand in this place beyond place, this time beyond time, and we remember the wisdom of the ancient ones. We ask for your blessing, Great Queen, as I walk between the worlds, seeking that which has been lost. As it was, as it is, as it ever shall be."

Nothing visibly changed, but the waves in the air around Ginny began to glow. She focused, and was surprised but delighted to find a cord of white light stretching out from her chest, up into the air— a cord that she knew, deep in her gut, would lead her to Draco.

She turned her head to look at him. His face was expressionless, his lips just barely parted as though he were asleep.

"I'm coming," she whispered, and then closed her eyes.