PhoenixSong.net :: A Harry/Ginny Fanfic and Fanart Archive

Author: rich.sanidad

Story: One Blink

Part: 08 - One Down

Rating: Teens

Setting: Pre-DH

Status: Completed

Warning: Violence, extreme language

Reviews: 5

Words: 4,628

Updated: August 5, 2009, 4:25pm

Printer Friendly Format

Chapter Navigation:

As the warm sun shone down upon him, Ron could not help but notice that the weather was being remarkably cooperative. The Quidditch match had been going for several hours now, and he always played his best in fair weather – not that this match was going to need his best. Thanks to some new ideas of his that the coaching staff had implemented, the Cannons’ Chasers were soundly routing the competition. Even if the Tutshill Tornadoes’ Seeker happened to beat theirs to the Snitch, which was not very likely, it would not be enough to make up the five hundred point deficit between the two teams.

As his Chasers began yet another attack at the goals at the other end of the pitch, Ron leaned back in his broom, his hands interlocked behind his head. He closed his eyes, letting the warmth of the afternoon wash over him. If there was something that could make this moment more perfect, he could not think of what it would be.

He was shaken from his woolgathering by the feeling of a raindrop splashing on his right cheek. He quickly opened his eyes and looked up at the sky. The endless blue he surveyed was a surprise, yet also a comfort that he still had a solid grip on his sanity. Where did that droplet come from?

Ron looked back down from the sky in time to notice that a Tutshill Chaser had broken loose from the others and was rapidly bearing down on him, Quaffle in hand. The redhead quickly sat up into the proper Keeper stance and focussed on his adversary. It was the blonde bloke, Hannigan. His favourite move was to feint to his left, and then throw for the hoop on the right. It had already failed twice this match. Would he try it again? It was doubtful. No player worth his salt would use a failed strategy repeatedly and expect the result to change.

As a result, Ron found himself leaning slightly to the Chaser’s right as he waited for Hannigan to make his move. Despite his mental preparation, Ron was quite surprised when he saw the Chaser initiate a motion to throw for the hoop on his left, and then pull back and launch the Quaffle at the hoop to the right. Thanks to his amazing reflexes, Ron quickly performed a Starfish and Stick, barely brushing the Quaffle with the fingertip of his left hand. The deflected red ball brushed the outside of its intended target, but did not go through the hoop. One of the Cannons’ Chasers promptly scooped the Quaffle into his arms and started another campaign on the opposing Keeper.

Ron pulled himself back up onto his broom. That was a close one. He had better concentrate on the task at hand and ignore any phantom weather phenomenon that he did or did not feel. Just as he finished adjusting his gloves, he felt the unusual sensation again. He brought his fingertips to his cheek and was shocked to find that his hand was wet. What the bloody hell was going on? He checked the other end of the pitch to ensure that he was in no danger of having to defend his goals in the immediate future. Satisfied, he looked up and again found a vast ocean of blue sky. He shook his head, and as he did so he felt a small splash of water on the side of his face. And another. And another. Was he going mad?

Ron instinctively rubbed his face with his hand and was quite surprised to find that it was wet. He blinked a few times as he stared at his hand. Was he awake? Or, was this a dream? The Quidditch match had seemed so real. But... if the match was real, why was he staring at the pillow on his bunk, inside of the tent he had been sharing with Harry and Hermione? He looked upwards and was greeted by the sight of Harry standing over him, holding a sword whose hilt was encrusted with rubies – not that Ron noticed the rubies.

“WAAAAUGH!” The lanky redhead quickly rolled to the other side of the bed to put some distance between himself and the dangerous looking blade. Unfortunately, there was no other side of the bed.

“Ron!” said Harry as he dropped the sword and made his way to where his friend had fallen. “Are you all right?”

The redheaded young man took a few moments to catch his breath before responding. “Of course I’m not bloody all right! What the hell were you doing with that sword?”

“And why are you all wet?” asked Hermione unexpectedly.

The two boys turned in unison at their friend’s question.

“Erm... sorry, but I sort of had a... an adventure while you two were asleep,” said Harry sheepishly.

“Are you all right?” asked Hermione.

“Yes, I’m fine... thanks. More than fine, actually... I think... I think this is the Sword of Gryffindor.”

Hermione’s eyes widened at the unexpected statement. Harry turned to look at Ron. It was obvious that for once, he was not upset about being awakened from his favourite dream.

Fifteen minutes later, the three of them were seated around the dinner table with the sword lying flat in the middle of it. Ron and Hermione had sat silently as Harry described the unusual sequence of events that had resulted in the magical relic coming into his possession. He was now leaning on his elbows with his hands lightly clasped together in front of him. A towel hung around his neck, but his hair was still damp and sticking out in all directions. The other two were leaning back in their chairs, pondering what they had just learned. Ron was looking up at the ceiling of the tent while Hermione’s eyes were focussed on the sword.

“Why didn’t you wake us?” she said with some annoyance in her tone, breaking the silence.

“I was going to – really!” Harry sat up and leaned back into his chair. “But, just as I was about to do it, the doe made a move towards the forest. I didn’t want to lose it and I knew that if I took the time to wake you up...”

Harry looked at her imploringly as his hands came apart and turned palms up as a gesture of resignation. She nodded as if she understood the dilemma, although a small frown remained on her face. Harry released a small breath that he did not realise he had been holding. He had envisioned several scenarios while contemplating their possible reactions during his return hike to camp. The lack of anger and suspicion in their voices – for now, at least – was a relief to him.

“But didn’t you say that the doe disappeared after it led you to the sword?” said Hermione. “You could have returned to camp then. Surely, the sword was not going anywhere.”

“I... I didn’t think of that. Sorry.” Harry paused, as he relived the moment when he first came upon the shallow pool in which the sword rested. “I just... I wanted... I saw the sword lying at the bottom of the pool. And all I could think of was...”

“... destroying the locket,” said Ron.

Harry turned his head and looked uncertainly at his friend, but the look in the other boy’s face reassured him. It was the same look Ron gave him all those years ago before sacrificing himself on McGonagall’s giant chess set. The look that had given him the self-assurance to face what he knew he had to do.

When Harry turned to look at Hermione, he was surprised to see that she looked rather forlorn.

“Hermione?”

Her eyes briefly left the sword to make contact with his, and then returned to the glistening object. He could tell she wanted to say something, but was either having trouble finding the right words, or did not want to say them at all.

“What if... what if it’s not the real one?” she said softly.

Ron looked at her in confusion and Harry explained. “I know what she’s thinking. Before I... you know... we overheard those goblins telling Dean and Mr. Tonks and that other fellow about the fake sword in Gringotts. This could just be another one.”

“If it doesn’t work, then we just put the locket away again until we can find the real sword,” said Ron bluntly. “Why all the fuss?”

But Hermione did not reply. She slouched forward tiredly and turned slightly to the side, avoiding eye contact with both of the boys.

“It’s me...” said Harry quietly.

Hermione’s head hung lower.

“You’re worried about exposing me to the locket again.”

“I’m sorry,” said Hermione, her eyes still cast downward.

“Don’t be,” said Harry dejectedly, yet sincerely.

“But you’re not wearing the locket anymore,” said Ron. “What’s the harm?”

“Didn’t we all agree that we underestimated its power?” replied Harry. Hermione perked up at this.

“You agreed with me?” she said tentatively.

“Yeah,” said Harry. “Didn’t Ron tell you?”

His two friends shared a look that thoroughly confused him. He would have to ask one of them about it later.

“Be honest, Harry,” said Hermione as she turned back to him, her voice gaining strength. “Will you be all right if we take the Horcrux out of the bag?”

Harry looked at her, then up at Ron, and then down at the sword. This was the moment he had been dreading since retrieving it. If he was even the least bit unsure, he needed to tell them right now. He looked at each of them again evenly, while his mind replayed the words he had read over and over again from Ginny’s note.

“Yes. I’ll be fine. I can do this.”

His voice had not faltered, and this fact was not lost upon his friends. Hermione still looked to Ron for confirmation, but a short nod from him had her rising from her chair and moving to the beaded bag stowed beneath her bunk. She returned shortly with a small leather pouch.

“It’s in here,” she said.

Harry nodded once, stood up, and picked up the sword. It felt lighter than when he had handled it in the Chamber of Secrets, and yet his arms were less steady this time. When Hermione removed the locket from the pouch, he drew a shallow breath and instinctively gripped the hilt tighter.

“All right there, mate?”

He needed that. Harry exhaled slowly. “Yeah... yeah... thanks, Ron.”

Hermione laid the Horcrux in the middle of the table, where the sword had lain just a few moments before, and stepped back, keeping her eyes on Harry. Her wand was in her hand and she was whispering to herself, probably recalling spells that could be useful if things got out of hand. Ron had his wand out as well, but his eyes were on the locket.

“What’s your plan?” Ron said to Harry. “Are you going to just take a swing at it?”

Harry shook his head. “I’m going to open it first.”

“But we never worked out how to do that,” said Hermione.

Harry’s mouth formed into a tight line. His shoulders drooped as if someone had placed an enormous weight on them. “I know how to open it,” he admitted.

“What?”

“How?”

Harry grimaced as he screwed up his eyes briefly. “It happened while I was... not me. You have to command it to open in Parseltongue.”

“You never told us that,” said Hermione sadly.

Harry looked away from her. “I’ve been trying not to think about it too much.” When he looked back, he saw only compassion in his best friend’s face, and he felt his spirits lift just a bit.

He held the sword up with both hands and inched forward. “Open,” he commanded it, although his words only sounded like hissing to his friends.

The locket snapped open, revealing a living eye behind each glass. Tom Riddle’s eyes. Harry tightened his jaw at the familiar sight as he lifted the sword higher to strike. Suddenly, a grey mist started emanating from both halves of the locket.

“Harry...” said Hermione uncertainly.

“What’s going on?” said Ron, his voice rising in pitch and tension.

“I-I... I don’t know,” said Harry. “This has never happened before.”

The mist began to swirl. After several tense moments, it coalesced into a familiar shape. Harry felt as if all his breath had been sucked out of him.

“Ginny...” His voice was barely above a whisper.

Ron had to tear his gaze away from the ghostly figure floating above the table to look at his friend. Harry was mesmerized. “Harry! HARRY! It’s not really her,” said Ron forcefully.

“Harry... listen to him...” said Hermione, trying to maintain steady control of her voice.

The smoky doppelganger turned its glowing red eyes to the raven-haired Gryffindor. “Harry...” said its silky voice. “It’s so good to see you again...”

“Stop it! You’re not my sister!” cried Ron. “Stupefy!”

The spell passed harmlessly through the beautiful spectre and caused the tent to shake when it impacted the wall.

“Ron! That won’t work,” shouted Hermione. “We need to focus on Harry. We can’t let him fall under its spell again!”

“You can’t destroy me, dear boy. I know you don’t want to,” said the seductive voice once again.

“I... I have to.”

“But you can’t. You’re not strong enough. We both know that. I remember how easily you did everything that I asked you to do...”

Harry shook his head briskly, as if shaking something off of it. “No,” he said firmly before glaring at the apparition. “I didn’t do everything.”

He took another step forward, but it merely smiled wickedly at him. “You need me, Harry. If you get rid of me, you will be alone. Ginny won’t wait for you, no matter how much you fantasise about it.”

Harry’s head tipped down a bit as he levelled a steady gaze at the false Ginny. A wolfish smile appeared on his lips.

“Harry?” Hermione’s voice was rising in pitch. She was valiantly trying not to panic. Ron had changed the aim of his wand and was now pointing it at his friend.

Harry lunged and swung the sword with all of his might, the arc of the swing going through the spectre’s neck. Hermione and Ron each stepped back in surprise as the scowling apparition made a hissing noise at Harry.

“It’s over,” said Harry, breathing heavily. “You won’t beat me.”

Without firing a retort, the grey figure lost its shape and became a swirling mist again. The trio stared at it open-mouthed, each one rooted in place by curiosity. When it finally stopped, it had taken on a new form – two forms, to be exact. Harry completely stopped breathing; he did not begin again until the figure on the left spoke.

“You disappoint us, son,” it said, its cold red eyes staring at him from behind familiar spectacles.

Harry remained speechless.

“Cedric Diggory... Sirius... Dumbledore...” said the other figure hauntingly.

“M-Mum?”

“Must more people continue to die for you?” The first figure was beginning to sneer as it spoke.

“Please... I tried... I...”

“Harry, don’t listen to them!” Ron’s voice sounded so far away.

“Did my sacrifice bear so little fruit?” Despite the fluidity of the mist that gave the grey Lily her substance, there was no mistaking her beauty. The hard frown on her face only made her seem more alive.

Harry could feel his eyes getting wet, but he did not move. He could barely stand, much less allow himself the luxury of taking one hand off the sword to wipe his eyes.

“No son of mine would be so weak,” said the imitation of James with a snarl, drawing Harry’s attention back to itself.

“I-I’m not weak.” Harry’s voice lacked almost all of its usual energy; his protest did not sound convincing to his own ears.

“Admit it...” began the ghostly image of Lily Potter.

“... you need us.”

“Haven’t you always wished that we would come back to you?”

“They’re not really your parents, Harry! Don’t let them win!” That voice sounded like Hermione, thought Harry fleetingly.

“We can provide the guidance you always wanted...”

“... just let us back into your heart.”

“The sword, Harry! Use it on the locket!”

Was that Ron? When did he get here? thought Harry.

“Put the sword down, son...”

“... and put the locket back on.”

“NO! Fight it, Harry! Don’t let it win!”

There was that voice again. Maybe Hermione really is here, he thought to himself. Didn’t I ditch them a few weeks ago? And now they’re here... trying to take him away from his parents.

“You know what you have to do, son.”

“It’s time to finish what you started.”

Harry turned away from the ghostly figures and looked impassively at Ron.

“Bloody hell! Not again!” shouted the frantic redhead. “Why can’t he beat it this time?”

“I don’t know! It must have said something wrong the first time.”

“So what did it say?”

“I don’t know! I’m trying to remember...”

Harry took a small step towards Ron.

“Hermione, hurry!”

“You’re not helping!”

“His eyes are starting to glow red!”

Harry began to raise the sword higher.

“I can’t think... I need more time...”

“Are you the brightest bloody witch in our year or not?”

“Wait! I’ve got it! It said something about Ginny!” shouted Hermione.

“What? Why would that shake him out of it?”

Harry took another step closer to Ron.

“Never mind – Harry... they’re not really your parents!” Ron took a small step backwards. “They... they want to take you away from Ginny!”

“Ginny?”

“You know... about this high, red hair, brilliant Bat-Bogey Hex?”

“Ginny...”

“Don’t do this, mate.” Ron’s voice began sounding more normal. “It’s not what she would want.”

“Finish them, son...”

“... and we can be a family again.”

Harry hesitated. His brow alternately furrowed and relaxed as different emotions played themselves out on his face.

Sensing the loss of any advantage they had just gained, Ron called out desperately, “Your parents would never ask you to do this!”

Harry stopped contorting his face and lifted his chin to meet his best friend’s gaze.

“You know this. Deep down you know your parents would never ask you to do this – especially not to your friends.”

Harry stood frozen.

“We know what’s best for you, Harry.” The two figures spread out their arms, as if inviting him into an embrace.

He looked at Ron and nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“What? Harry, don’t – ”

With a swiftness that surprised everyone in the tent, Harry turned and swung the sword forcefully, making a loud clanging sound when it made contact with the locket. There was a loud crack that forced the trio off their feet. Everyone sat where they landed as they surveyed the place where the locket’s spirit had been floating just moments before. Finally, Ron stood up and made his way to the now broken table.

“Is... is it gone?” asked Hermione.

“Yeah...” said Ron. His voice sounded unusually forlorn.

“Are we missing something? What’s wrong?”

“Where are we going to eat?”

Ginny tried to keep her face stoic as the carriage rumbled away from Hogsmeade Station. Memories and images from the last two weeks swirled in her mind. If she did not know better, she would have thought she was just waking up from the most surreal dream... Was it only a week ago that she was watching Harry sleep in his bunk, thankful that they had somehow survived the skirmish at Godric’s Hollow? Did she really just spend the last two days reviewing duelling tactics with her Mum? She shook her head slowly at the silent questions.

“You all right?”

The young redhead looked up at her lone companion in the carriage. “Sorry?”

“You were shaking your head just now.”

“Oh... right...” She could feel herself flush at being caught like that. “I’m fine...” She caught herself before she could roll her eyes at herself. “I’m just... trying to prepare for the upcoming term.”

Neville frowned as he nodded. “We’ll stick together – just like before.”

Ginny considered and then shook her head again as she replied. “No... We have to do better than that.”

The older Gryffindor grimaced. He finally looked at the spot on the carriage that should have been occupied by their favourite Ravenclaw. Neither of them had had the courage to acknowledge their fears until now, but it was time to face the truth. Luna was missing. They had spent the majority of the journey interviewing other students and the evidence was undeniable. No one had seen her since the train ride at the beginning of Christmas hols.

He turned back to Ginny, and the look in the younger girl’s eyes told him all he needed to know. There were only two of them left, but they would not be cowed. He copied her silence as he tried to prepare himself for the trials of the weeks ahead, but his newfound determination held steady only until the carriage pulled to a stop at the front gates. Both of them were surprised to see that the acting headmaster was there to greet them, with Amycus and Alecto Carrow, the would-be Dark Arts and Muggle Studies professors, respectively, skulking behind him like jackals. As they descended from the carriage, they tried to ignore the Death Eaters and head straight into the castle, but the former head of Slytherin had other plans.

“Weasley.” Snape’s voice was quiet and deadly.

Ginny turned more quickly than she would have liked. The unhidden glee in Alecto’s face made her sick to her stomach, and she had to stifle her curiosity to look in Amycus’s eyes.

“Headmaster.” She barely concealed the hatred that was threatening to release her temper. But she and Neville were outnumbered and outclassed. From the corner of her eye, she could see him fingering his wand, and she gave him a small shake of her head, hoping he would get the message right away.

“I do not recall requesting your presence, Longbottom.” Snape’s voice was louder this time, dripping with the contempt they had heard so often when he was their Potions instructor.

Neville hesitated. When he made eye contact with Ginny, he was surprised to see her nod her head, indicating that he should do as he was instructed. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion; Luna’s absence weighed heavily in his mind. He couldn’t just leave her, but he obviously couldn’t stay either.

“Go on, boy,” said the Dark Arts professor, his voice sounding more like a growl than human speech. “You would do well to obey orders from the headmaster, if you know what’s good for you.”

Alecto laughed, although it sounded more like cackling. Neville clenched his jaw and tightened his grip on his wand. Reluctantly, he turned and began making his way to the main entrance of the castle; his mind was racing.

It was only after Neville was out of sight that the three adults gave the youngest Weasley their full attention. Ginny straightened her posture, determined to let them know that she would not be intimidated.

“Did you have a pleasant holiday?” said Snape.

The innocuous question caught her off guard and before she knew it, she was staring intently into his intense, dark eyes. She tried to break eye contact, but for some reason she felt compelled to hold his gaze. The memories she had been contemplating just minutes earlier in the carriage flashed through her mind. Snape’s eyes widened slightly. Bloody hell! she thought as she finally looked away.

“Weasley... how much sopophorous bean is required in concocting the Draught of Living Death?”

For the second time, Ginny was surprised by an unusual question from her former Potions instructor. “I... I don’t know.” She gritted her teeth and her skin flushed.

“Indeed. I should have expected as much. Perhaps you should be paying closer attention in your classes instead of planning schemes for breaking into my office.”

If Ginny bit down any harder, she would begin grinding her teeth into dust.

“I believe some punishment is in order...”

“What? But I haven’t – ”

“Enough! I am the headmaster – show some respect!”

Alecto rubbed her hands together greedily. “I know just the thing to teach her some manners. Let me do it!”

“Oi! You got the last Gryffindor. I want this one...” Amycus leered disgustingly at Ginny, and she could not stop herself from recoiling away from him.

“No...” said Snape finally. “I think I shall exercise the Headmaster’s privilege for this one. As a matter of fact... all of her detentions for this term will be served with me.”

Ginny’s jaw dropped, and from the corner of her eye she could see both Carrows’ shoulders drop in disappointment. Snape never attended to detentions personally. Something was amiss.

“Be at my office at eight o’clock tonight,” he continued. “Wear something... comfortable.”

Ginny could hear both Carrows snickering behind her back as she trudged into the castle.

It had been less than two weeks since they had destroyed the locket, and Harry was dizzy from constantly trying to work out where else they could look for the remaining Horcruxes. The shortened mantra of what they were or where they might be continued to echo in his mind, even after he had tried to think of something else. It was little wonder that he had been such a poor student of Occlumency. Hufflepuff’s Cup, something of Ravenclaw or Gryffindor, Nagini... In a way, they were not that much closer to finishing their quest than they were a few months ago. But there was no doubt that his heart was lighter than it was before, and he patted the hilt of the sword at his side.

His mind turned to Ginny – again. It was at least the fifth time she had entered his thoughts this morning, and this time he finally stopped fighting it. She would be taking the Hogwarts Express back to school today – actually, she was probably already there. He hoped that this term she would avoid trouble and keep a low profile. He smiled weakly at the last thought. She would not be Ginny if she actually did as he hoped.

“Harry?” said Hermione’s muffled voice from inside the tent.

“Out here.”

“Ready for some breakfast?” said his best friend as she stuck her head out the doorway of their shelter.

“Yeah. Sure... I’ll be in soon.”

She could not help but notice that Harry seemed to be avoiding eye contact. “Are you all right?”

“Erm... yeah... just thinking about... things.”

“We’re here if you need us, Harry...”

When he only gave a small tilt of his head as acknowledgment, Hermione frowned in disappointment. She was about to retreat back into the tent when Harry spoke.

“Actually...”

“Yes?” Hermione hoped she was successful in hiding at least some of her eagerness.

“I... I’d like to go back to Godric’s Hollow.”

“What? Why?”

“I was thinking that we could use a short break from looking for the Horcruxes...”

“But, I thought – ”

“I know what I’ve said, but I’m going mad thinking of these things over and over again. Besides... I... I didn’t get to visit my parents’ graves.”

Hermione’s posture relaxed immediately. “I’ll have Ron get some hairs of some Muggles for the Polyjuice Potion,” she said softly.

Harry nodded. “Thanks.”

“Just... just a quick visit, right?”

“Only the graveyard.”

“And then we’re back to hunting down the Horcruxes?”

“Not quite.”

Hermione looked at him in confusion.

“I need a wand.”

Chapter Navigation: Previous Next