CHAPTER SIXTEEN:  THE MAZE

24 June 1995

So, Mum and Bill are here as Harry’s family, eh?  I think I did a fairly credible job of pretending to be surprised when I saw them at lunch, even though thanks to Harry I knew they were here.  Harry was surprised to see them there, but I have to say, I’m not surprised that Dumbledore (and it must have been Dumbledore) asked them to come.  To be perfectly honest, my family has been more like a family, a realfamily, to Harry then Harry’s actualfamily has been; dreadful people, the Dursley’s.

Ginny looked up from her journal, the faces around her were intent on their tests; foreheads screwed up in concentration as they searched for a particular Goblin rebel’s name, or tongues poking out from between their teeth as they scribbled frantic answers in an attempt to finish the test before the hourglass ran out.  She’d finished her exam in the first twenty minutes, steadily writing out answers to the questions listed on her parchment, not even pausing in between questions to consider what it was she was writing. 

It had been like that in all of her exams.  The first one — Transfiguration on Monday - had nearly landed her in the Headmaster’s office for cheating as McGonagall had been very suspicious as to how Ginny had finished her test so quickly.  But after she had compared Ginny’s test to the key, and verified that the anti-cheating charm was still active on her quill, she had begrudgingly allowed Ginny to read — or write in her journal — during the rest of the exam time.

With ten minutes left in the hourglass for their History of Magic exam — her last test of the day - the rest of the third years were quickly becoming quite frantic as they attempted to fill in as many answers as possible.

I may have an easy time of it with exams and all (thanks Tom!) but Harry and the other Champions have it best of all, they don’t have to take any exams!  Lucky dogs! 

The reasoning is that the Triwizard Tournament takes up so much time and energy that they shouldn’t have to feel pressured to study for classes too.  It makes a weird sort of sense, but I’m more inclined to agree with Fred and George and say that IT’S NOT FAIR!  Well, I suppose it is fair, but it feels good to say it isn’t!

Speaking of the Triwizard tournament, it’s probably a good thing that I don’t have to actually concentrate on my exams, not with the third task taking place after supper tonight.   Especiallyknowing that I’ll be right there in Harry’s head the whole time, experiencing the whole thing, and also (and most importantly) keeping in mind Mira’s warning that whatever happens I can not interfere.  Talk about frustrating!

What was she on about, anyway?  Surely the third task can’t be dangerous, can it?  It seems fairly straightforward.  I mean, it’s a maze!  There will be creatures to get past (I suppose, knowing Hagrid, that could be pretty dangerous in and of itself) and charms, enchantments and stuff to get through as well, but surely Dumbledore will have taken precautions to keep everyone safe.  So why was Mira all insistent about me not interfering no matter what happens?  That must mean that she knows something is going to happen.  Something dreadful enough that I would be tempted to use the Elementals to help Harry.

She drilled me for three hours on using my Elementals to keep control of my temper, and then made me promise that I would invoke them to help control my temper before the third task began.  She didn’t stop until Hagrid stuck his head in looking for me. Calling them (the elementals) silently is no problem for me now, and sometimes, especially when I’m feeling particularly lonely, I’ll call them up just for company. 

I have to admit, having them around is quite calming, also rather thought provoking.   When I’m in there company everything goes very still inside.  All my troubles seem to just sort of drain away into nothingness.  The longer they stay manifest, the clearer things become until sometimes I could swear that I see a sort of underlying reality, a pattern if you will, in the very fabric of existence and I’ve thought more than once that perhaps, just perhaps, if I could change the underlying pattern and perhaps create my own reality.

It’s usually right about then that I send them away, for even considering the possibility that the world might not be as changeless as we like to think, well, it’s a rather disturbing thought now, isn’t it? 

Speaking of disturbing thoughts, my Mum out until four in the morning with my Dad?  Nighttime stroll my foot!  I wonder if that’s when Bill was conceived?  She was pregnant with him when she left Hogwarts her seventh year you know.  Only a couple of months along, but there you are.  She and my Dad got married right after they left Hogwarts, so I really don’t think that anyone outside of the family was that much the wiser, but look at them now!  They’ve been married for nearly a quarter of a century and fight nearly every day, but you can still tell that they love each other desperately. 

Mum and Bill have been keeping Harry company all day.  They’re attempting to keep his mind off of what he’ll be doing tonight, and they’re doing a pretty good job of it!  It’s been in the back of his mind, that can’t be helped of course, but Harry’s been so busy listening to Mum’s school stories and Bill’s accounts of tomb raids that he hasn’t been able to dwell on what’s coming, and that, I do believe, is the whole point.

The grating gong of the bell signaling the end of classes startled Ginny so badly she blotted her page, large puddles of emerald green ink trailed across the bottom of her page.

“Must be nice,” said Mandy, her lip curled as she flounced past Ginny’s desk, her perfect golden curls bouncing, “to be such a teacher’s pet that you don’t even have to study for class.”

Ginny repressed a derisive snort with some difficulty.  The girl was just jealous, that much was obvious.  Mandy Davenport may have been blessed with doll-like features, naturally curly blonde hair (which she spent hours arranging into intricate hairstyles) and eyes of forget-me-not blue (that took twenty minutes every morning to highlight and shadow — Ginny’d actually timed her), but her personality left a lot to be desired (in short, she could be a real bitch) and she had to work hard even for passing grades, whereas Ginny barely had to study at all, which seemed to bother Mandy on some deep, fundamental level.  But Mandy’s parents had money, which made up for a lot of her shortcomings in many people’s eyes, enough so that that Mandy was far and away the most popular girl in third year.

There was no reason to rise to Mandy’s baiting, she’d just get nasty and end up berating Ginny about being so poor that she had to wear her brother’s old hand-me-down robes.  That’s what it always seemed to boil down to in the end, the fact that Mandy had money and Ginny didn’t.  In fact, the best tactic of all, Ginny had found, was to ignore her completely.

“God, she’ll be in a pissy mood tonight,” grumbled Laura Marchbanks, Mandy’s best friend as she put her quill and ink into her bag and secured the fastening.  “She’s always twice as nasty when you refuse to defend yourself, Ginevra.  But of course why should anyone expect a girl who can’t even afford to take care of her own basic grooming needs to care about other people’s concerns.”

“Did it ever occur to you, Laura that some people might not want to spend every cent of their pocket money on fashion magazines and makeup and hair-curling potions?” snapped Lisa Jamison. 

Lisa was the closest thing to a girlfriend that Ginny had, and while Ginny had gotten to the point where she refused to be drawn in by Mandy’s comments, Lisa would still jump into the fray for her, taking anything said against Ginny as an almost personal insult.

“Pity you can’t afford some yourself,” said Laura loftily.  “Heaven knows you could look good if you wanted to Lisa.”

“You mean the potions and stuff would make me look like you,” sniffed Lisa.  “The last thing I want, Laurie girl, is to look like some sort of fashion clone.  And as for Ginny, she doesn’t need your stupid potions and make-up tips, she looks better when she first wakes up in the morning than you or Mandy do after hours of prinking in front of mirrors.”

Before Laura could think up a retort, Ginny had grabbed Lisa by the arm and had steered her out of the History of Magic Classroom.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Ginny whispered into Lisa’s ear as the joined the jostling crowd of students headed for the dorms and the Great Hall.

“Oh please, Ginny!  The pair of them have egos so inflated it’s a wonder they can get through the doorways.”

“That was mean though, what you said about me looking better in the morning then they do after hours and hours.”

“Mean but true,” said Lisa shortly.  “Look, Ginny, they need to learn to deal with a dose or two of truth, it’s good for them, deflate those fat heads a bit.  Look,” she said, changing tacks with the speed of light, “you going to watch the third task tonight?”

“Who isn’t?” said Ginny evasively as they climbed the stairs to the Gryffindor common room.  The teachers had instructed them to stow their bags and books in their dorms, seeing as that the third task would start immediately after supper.

“I take it your family’s close to Harry Potter?” asked Lisa curiously when they had crawled back out of the portrait hole and were headed down to supper. “I saw them at lunch.  Your mum said something about coming to watch Harry in the third task.”

“Well, his own family, well, what he has left of his family, are all Muggles, and, well, they’re not really that interested in magic,” explained Ginny quickly.

“Colin said something about Harry’s staying with your family this last summer.”

“Yeah, he and Ron are best friends.  He’s been to our house a couple of summers. He came with us to the Quidditch World Cup.”

“What’s he like?” asked Lisa.

“Colin?”

“No, silly, Harry Potter!”  Lisa motioned towards the Gryffindor table to where Harry was sitting between Ron and Bill, who seemed to be regaling the rest of them with a hilarious story, for Ron was bent over, clutching his sides in merriment, and even Harry was grinning broadly, in spite of the fact that his insides were very cold and he felt numb, detached, almost lost, simply waiting now for it all to be over.

Ginny felt a sudden almost homesick urge to take Harry in her arms and comfort him as she knew she’d done (would do/had done) countless times before.

“You okay, Ginny?” asked Lisa quietly.

“Yeah, hey Lisa, do you mind if I eat with my family?” said Ginny, nodding to where her Mum, Fred and George were sitting across from Bill, Harry and Hermione and all seeming to be enjoying themselves immensely.

“Course not, wish my family could come up to school sometimes,” said Lisa almost wistfully.

Ginny very nearly asked her to come eat with them, but a moment later, Lisa had been snagged by Marissa Lambton, a second year who had taken a liking to Lisa, and who just happened to be sitting near fifth year Mark Stimpson, a guy Lisa admitted to having a crush on since she’d started at Hogwarts.  Never one to pass up an opportunity, Lisa gave Ginny a broad grin and sat down by the obviously flattered second year girl.

*     *     *

Supper was a riotous affair.  The noise level grew as people finished eating and began talking animatedly about the upcoming task.  Harry, Ginny noticed, became inversely quiet.  He’d barely touched his food, shoving it around on his plate instead of eating. 

“You okay?” Ginny asked quietly, leaning around Bill (who was now chatting animatedly with George about the qualities of Doxy venom when setting up blocking curses).

Harry looked around at her and tried to smile, but it was more of a grimace.  His insides were icy now, and his eyes —

Damn. This was no time to get lost in his eyes.  If she didn’t keep alert, she might do something, however inadvertent, that might change the outcome of this evening’s task.

Harry shrugged.  “Nervous, you know.”

“You’re going to be hungry when this is all over, Harry, you know that, don’t you? You’ve barely touched a thing on your plate.”

“Tell you what, I make it out and we’ll sneak down to the kitchens later, have a proper supper.”

“We’ll celebrate you’re winning the Triwizard Tournament,” said Ginny decidedly, raising her glass of pumpkin juice to Harry in salute.

“We’ll celebrate this damned thing being done is what we’ll do,” said Harry grimly.  “I don’t care any more Gin. Win, loose, I just want it to be over!”

“I know exactly how you feel, Harry,” said Ginny fervently. 

Oh boy did she ever.

*     *     *

“Will the champions please fallow Mr. Bagman down to the stadium now.”

Harry stood with a clatter as Dumbledore made this announcement, his heart doing a flip flop that somehow managed to swap it with his stomach.

“Good luck Harry,” said Hermione gently, her hand on Harry’s sleeve.

“Yeah mate, good luck!” added Ron, clapping Harry on the shoulder.

“Yeah, knock ‘em dead!” said Fred, grinning and tossing a maraschino cherry across the table at Harry’s head.

Harry ducked as Mrs. Weasley said “Fred!” reprovingly and George rolled his eyes at his mother’s scandalized look as Harry, Viktor, Cedric and Fleur followed Mr. Bagman out of the Great Hall.

“That’s hardly the sort of thing to be saying to Harry when he’s about to perform a difficult piece of magic,” said Mrs. Weasley in a low, warning voice to Fred, who shrugged.

“It’s just an expression, mum!”

Mrs. Weasley’s voice when she responded was higher pitched than usual and quivering with repressed emotion.  “Still Fred, that’s no reason to-to-”

“He’ll be fine Mum,” said Bill, putting one of his long-fingered hands over his mother’s small, plump ones.   His eyes met Ginny’s and she knew without being told what it had cost her mother to pretend all day that there was nothing bothering her.

“That’s right Mum,” said Ginny quietly, reaching across the table and placing her own hands on top of Bill’s.  “Dumbledore has everything under control.  He won’t let anything happen to Harry.”

“But he — he wasn’t su-supposed to be in the t-tournament at-at all!” said her mother, a lone tear wending it’s way down her smooth cheek.

“Mum, it’s okay,” said George quietly, leaning across the table and adding his hands to Ginny’s.  “It’s a maze, that’s what Harry said.  Bagman told him you see.  Just a maze.  He’ll be done in no time.”

“Yeah, and we’ll be waiting for him when he’s done,” said Fred.  He looked at Ron, who was nodding fervently, and both of them added their hands to the heap.

“All for one?” said Hermione, a mischievous twinkle in her eye as she laid her own small hand on top of Ron’s.

“One for all,” said a deep, warm voice and a large, long-fingered hand was placed on top of the lot.

Professor Dumbledore’s kindly blue eyes twinkled around at the Weasley’s and Hermione over the tops of his half-moon glasses.

“He’ll be safe, Molly.  Dumbledore’s eyes met Ginny’s as he added, “He’ll come back to you, I promise.”

*     *     *

Bagman’s whistle sounded, shrill and clear in the still night air.  From her seat beside Bill halfway up the stands Ginny watched apprehensively as Harry and Cedric hurried towards the gaping opening to the maze. 

“Bloody thing looks like a mouth,” muttered Bill to Ginny.  He looked past her, then asked.  “Going to introduce me to your friend, Ginny?”

Ginny turned abruptly.  Michael Corner and Terry Boot were sitting on her other side.  Terry was chatting unconcernedly with Anthony Goldstein, but Michael had his eye on Ginny.

“Hey Michael.  Sure.  Bill, this is Michael Corner.  Michael, this is my brother, Bill,” said Ginny smiling slightly as Michael’s eyes widened slightly.

“You’re the dancing brother!” he said brightly.  “Cool, man.  Ginny’s told me all about you.”

Bill looked at Ginny, eyebrows raised.  Ginny shrugged.

“Let me shake your hand.  Anyone who can teach a girl to dance as good as you’ve taught Ginny here is worth knowing,” said Michael, sticking out a hand for Bill to shake.

Bill shook Michael’s hand rather warily.  A moment later Michael was leaning across Terry, arguing with Anthony about the likelihood of there being a Hogwarts victory for the Triwizard Tournament.

“This serious, Gin?” muttered Bill, an appraising look on his face.

“This, beautiful Bill, is a space-saver,” said Ginny, an evil grin spreading across her face. 

“Ah, biding time until Potter comes around, are you?”

“In a nutshell, yes.”

“Well, that’s all right then.”

“Yes,” said Ginny, her grin broadening.  “Yes, I suppose it is.”

*     *     *

What had Mira been going on about? Thought Ginny as she watched Harry’s progress through the maze.  It had been nigh on fifteen minutes and so far all he’d met was the bloody boggart, and that hardly seemed a challenge.  So far her having her Elementals on full alert seemed like a complete waste of time.  The boggart, and now that interesting golden mist; some sort of enchantment.

“Reducto!”  Harry was trying to blast his way through it.

“You can’t use the Reductor curse on an enchantment, Harry,” said Ginny without even thinking.

“Yeah, it sort of does look like an enchantment, doesn’t it?”

The sudden, piercing shriek inside her head coincided with a sudden burst of movement from those patrolling the perimeter of the maze.  Moody was shouting, something about Fleur being out.  Professor McGonagall, who had come running when he’d yelled, was now standing near the entrance to the maze, arguing furiously with the scared Auror.

“Fleur?” yelled Harry.   He took a deep breath and ran through the mist.  His world turned upside down.

“I’m going in to get her,” said Moody, his growly voice carrying to the stands.

“We agreed that red sparks should be sent up-” began McGonagall, her lips tightened to a thin line at this proposed breech of protocol.

“I’m telling you, Minerva, she’s out cold!” roared Moody.  “Second turning, second path on the left.  We leave her there and she’s going to get eaten by a Skrewt!”

Professor Moody dis-Apparated with a small pop.  A moment later he was back, Fleur’s limp form slung over his shoulder.

There was a sudden roar of noise from the crowd as everyone began to talk at once.  Madam Maxime was at Fleur’s side in a heartbeat.  But Ginny hardly noticed, for Harry was hanging upside down, convinced that if he moved his feet, he would fall down (up?) into the vast reaches of space.

“Think, Harry!” she muttered as Harry’s thoughts flew wildly from one possibility to the next.  “You can figure this out. Think!”

Ginny was so relieved when Harry finally made himself move his feet that she was scarcely aware of the argument heating up on the grass in front of the stands.

“She has been stunned!” Madam Maxime, was saying, her low, throaty voice sounding rather tight with anger.

“Surely none of the other champions-” began McGonagall.

“She has been stunned,” said Madam Maxime imperiously.  “And as I highly doubt that she stunned herself, it must have been one of the others.”

“Now Olympia, please,” said Dumbledore who had swept onto the grass a moment before.  “There are several ways she could have been stunned-”

“All of which include the use of a wand!” Madam Maxime pointed out sharply.

“No all of which would include someone purposefully stunning her,” said Dumbledore calmly.  “One of the other champions may have been attempting to stun one of the beasts, or-”

“I do not care how it happened,” roared Madam Maxime, her color and temper rising.  “All I know is that my champion has been put out of commission!”

Ginny was diverted completely at this point by Harry’s battle with the skrewt.  The damned thing was nearly ten feet long!  She shuddered involuntarily as it stopped, it’s sting just inches from Harry’s face.

“You all right?”  Michael’s voice was quiet in her ear. 

“Yeah, fine,” said Ginny.  “Just a bit chilly now the sun’s gone down.”  She rubbed her arms, trying to chase away the goose bumps, not all of which were from the night air.

“Here,” said Michael.  He pulled off his robes, removed his jumper and tied it around Ginny’s neck by the sleeves.  He leaned closer, his lips just brushing her ear.  “I’d like to warm you up properly, Ginny, but, well . . .” he cast a wary eye along the row to where Ginny’s mother and Bill, Ron and Hermione were all talking over each other about what had just happened to Fleur.

“Thanks,” said Ginny absently, Harry was listening intently, listening to the voices on the other side of the hedge.  It was Cedric.

“What the hell d’you think you’re doing?”

And then Krum:  “Crucio!”

Cedric’s yells were so loud Ginny winced, but Harry was dashing up and down the row, frantically trying to find a way in, a way to get to Cedric, to help him.

“Stupefy!”  Harry’s spell hit Krum in the back and as Harry helped Cedric to his feet, Ginny suddenly became aware of the fact that her right hand, which had been clutching the edge of her seat in a white-knuckled grip, was now covered by Michael’s larger one.

“You’re trembling,” said Michael, his voice a soft purr in her ear.

Ginny was trying to think of a way to remove her hand from his grip without being impolite when a sudden shower of red sparks caught everyone’s attention.  A moment later Moody and McGonagall emerged, carrying Viktor Krum between them.  The uproar was instantaneous, and Ginny used Michael’s distraction to remove both hands firmly to her lap.

I can’t get distracted, Ginny told herself firmly, completely ignoring Michael when he asked her what she thought had got to Krum.  I can’t get distracted or I may do something involuntarily and Mira specifically warned me that I can’t interfere!

What she needed, Ginny thought as she divided her attention between Harry’s progress through the maze and the heated argument taking place now between Karkaroff and Dumbledore, was to get away from Michael, from Bill, who was now casting her sideways glances as if worried about her.

“I’m okay,” she muttered to Bill as Michael and Terry began speculating about Krum’s condition.  “Just nervous for him is all.”

“He’ll be all right, Ginny.  You heard what Dumbledore said.”  And Bill, smiling down on her, wrapped his arm around her shoulders.  The combination of his arm and his words warmed her far more effectively than all Michael’s hints and inferences.  “He’ll come back to us.  He’ll come back to you.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Ginny slowly.  Mira’s words now ringing in her head:

“. . .his experience in the maze changes him forever, Ginny.  There’s no way around that.”

So he’d come back to her, yes, but the Harry who came back would not be the same Harry who entered it feeling so nervous and excited.  Something was going to happen; something . . .

A Sphinx?  Yes, there it was, all golden brown and glowing with some sort of internal, magical light, her voice smooth and honeyed as she recited the words of her riddle.

Harry stood there, clueless, wishing with all his might for Hermione who was far cleverer than him at things like this. Ginny could have told him in a heartbeat, but she bit her tongue

“Don’t be a prat, Harry, just concentrate. . .”

She watched, amused, as Harry blundered his way through the simple puzzle, then set off again down the path, amazed at his own brilliance. 

“Don’t get too cocky yet, Potter!” she thought quickly.  “There must have been a reason that the answer to the riddle was a spider.”

But Harry didn’t answer.  In fact, he hadn’t heard her.  His gaze was riveted on the Triwizard cup which stood gleaming on it’s plinth only yards away.  When Cedric dashed into the path ahead of him, legs pumping furiously, Harry’s heart fell down to the soles of his feet.  It was over . . .it was . . . “Cedric!  On your left!”

Cedric dodged the spider, which came at Harry instead.  Ginny winced as the pincers ripped through his skin, sending searing pains through her own leg.

“Harry!” she whispered out loud, her entire body trembling as he and Cedric fought to subdue the beast.  Somewhere in the back of her consciousness, she was aware of Bill’s arm tightening around her shoulders.

“Ginny, are you all right?”  Bill’s voice was in her ear, but she shook her head, intent now on the scene before her, on Cedric and Harry who were arguing over the cup.

“Both of us,” said Harry at last, watching Cedric’s determined profile.

“You-you sure?”

“Yeah . . .we’ve helped each other out, haven’t we?  We both got here.  Let’s just take it together.”

The pair of them stood poised, each of their hands over a handle.

“On three, right?” said Harry.  “One — two — three-”  They grasped the handles and instantly, the unmistakable feeling of a Portkey’s hooking his navel made Ginny gasp out loud.

“Ginny?” said Bill, looking concerned, but Ginny didn’t answer, she was staring straight ahead, her body rigid, a look of absolute terror on her face.  Harry and Cedric had left the maze.  Harry could not unclench the hand that was holding the Triwizard Cup; it was bulling him onward in a howl of wind and swirling color, Cedric at his side.

*     *     *

They had left the Hogwarts ground completely.  They were standing in a gloomily dark and overgrown graveyard.  There was the church, just there behind that large yew tree.

Yew?  Thought Ginny giddily, trying to make sense out of what had just happened.  She was aware, on some far distant level, that she was still sitting in the stands outside of the maze on the Hogwarts grounds.  Bill was still sitting beside her, his arm wrapped tightly around his shoulders.  Michael on her other side, chatting unconcernedly with Terry and Anthony.

Why should it bother her that there was a Yew tree beside the church?  Something about Yew . . .something . . .was coming.  Yes.  A short figure in a dark hooded cloak . . .it was carrying . . .

Harry’s scar exploded with pain; pain, white hot and furious.  Pain that was so intense that Ginny, who was experiencing it second hand, was rendered completely incapable of thought or speech.

My god, what were they doing to him? 

 “Kill the Spare!”  the voice was high pitched, cold and heartless, Ginny would have known that voice anywhere.

“Tom!” she whispered, so not even Bill could hear.

“Avada Kedavra!” screeched another voice, this one too familiar to her.

The blast of green light blazed through Harry’s eyelids and Ginny, still in the stands, blinked rapidly, trying to rid herself of the blinding flash.  She had to see . . .she had to understand . . .she could feel the Elementals doing their job, soothing her rapidly growing sense of panic, clearing her vision. . .this is what Mira had meant.  Somehow, someway, Tom had managed to snatch Harry and Cedric from the center of the Triwizard maze.  He had brought them here — for what Ginny had no idea.  He had brought them here and now . . .

Her train of thought was cut off abruptly.  Something heavy had fallen to the ground . . .Cedric . . .his eyes open . . .empty . . .Cedric was dead.  He was lying, face-up on a patch of spiky, dark green Devil’s Grass.  Harry, still staring at Cedric in disbelief was being pulled to his feet . . .shoved against the large granite tombstone and bound so tightly he couldn’t so much as flex a muscle.

Somebody help me! Harry thought wildly, and Ginny, felt the tears begin to trickle down her face.

You can not interfere. Mira’s voice in her head was sharp and insistant.

“Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son.” Wormtail’s voice was shaky, as if he was afraid . . .dreadfully afraid. . .

It was a blood spell.  Ginny knew that somehow; knew it instantly, and with the knowledge came the realization of what it was Voldemort was about to do.

“Tom, no!”  Back in the stands Ginny moaned the words out loud.  Her eyes were glazed, staring avidly at the entrance to the maze, her body rigid and her hands were icy cold.  Bill was rubbing one of her cold paws between his own warm ones, trying desperately to inject them with some warmth, but to no avail.  He was just about to alert his mother to Ginny’s condition when Ginny managed to address him directly.

“Re-remember Egypt?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

“The bit where you saw Harry?  Knew what he was doing?” murmured Bill, instinctively keeping his voice low.

Ginny nodded, eyes still staring blankly — unseeing.

“This — it’s the same.  Don’t . . .all right . . .can’t . . .have to watch . . .”

“Ginny?  Should I tell Dumbledore?  Should I-”

“No!”

“All right Gin, okay. But I’m here.  Do you hear me?  I’m not letting go.”

Ginny squeezed his hand.  The voices around her in the stands were already fading.

The figures in the graveyard becoming clearer to her than anything around her.

The cauldron into which the fine white mist of bone powder descended was huge.  Indecently large.  Big enough for a grown man to sit in . . . the water had turned a vivid, poisonous-looking blue.  In the light of the bubbling cauldron, Ginny could just see a huge weeping cherry tree.  It stood just on the other side of the bench-like grave in front of which the cauldron had been lit.  It was heavy with blossoms — odd, for this time of the year it should have dozens of cherries budding and swelling, not blossoms . . .

“Flesh — of the servant — willingly given — you will — revive — your master.”

Wormtail’s wail of pain was high-pitched, keening.  She didn’t see him sever the hand for Harry had screwed up his eyes.  But she could hear the knife severing the flesh.  She could hear the meaty smack as the severed hand hit the ground, and the splash. Wormtail added his own hand to the cauldron.

 “Blood of the enemy . . .forcibly taken . . .you will resurrect your foe.” Wormtail was gasping and moaning.  His breath smelled like rotten meat and onions.  He was using a knife to . . .Ginny flinched as the tip of the knife penetrated Harry’s skin.  She could feel the warm trickle of blood dribbling down his arm beneath the sleeve of his robes.

Wormtail had added Harry’s blood, which had turned the potion a piercing, blinding white.  In spite of Harry’s terror, in spite of the knowledge of what Tom was attempting to do, in spite of the feeling that she was standing at the edge of a precipice — on the cusp of a change so terrible that it would change her world forever, Ginny couldn’t help the small smile that stole across her face when she saw what Harry’s blood had done to the potion.

“My knight in shining armor,” she murmured in a nearly inaudible whisper.  But the smile was wiped from her face as the tall, skeletally thin figure of a man rise up from the belly of the cauldron. Behind him, it’s heavily laden branches stirring in the warm and fragrant evening breeze, the weeping cheery tree stirred fretfully.

Lord Voldemort had risen again.

*     *     *

Voldemort touched the Dark Mark etched on Wormtail’s arm, and Harry’s head seared with fresh pain.

A shout from very close by wrenched Ginny back to the present.  Karkaroff was standing by the judge’s table, bent double, clutching his arm.  His eyes were wide, terrified.  His face behind it’s brave goatee had gone the color of day-old porridge.

“Igor?”  Dumbledore’s voice was  concerned.  He put a steadying hand on Karkaroff’s shoulder.  “What is it?  Are you feeling unwell?”

“It is — it is-”  Karkaroff paused, his eyes rolling in his head.  He took a great, shuddering breath and seemed to come to himself.  “It is nothing, Dumbledore, I — I must go.  Now.”

He wrenched his shoulder out of Dumbledore’s grip and ran up the hill towards the castle as fast as his legs would carry him.  The crowd’s response was one of controlled confusion, mutterings and hissings breaking out all over.  But it was not enough to keep her attention.  Ginny found herself being pulled back to the graveyard . . .to the sudden appearance of the dozens of Death Eaters as they began Apparating in every shadowy space . . . to Harry . . .

*     *     *

The voice, Tom’s voice, was smooth . . .almost hypnotic.  He was telling his story, weaving his tale of heroism and bravery . . .the bard recounting the tale of triumph in the face of adversity.

She had believed that voice, once.  How long ago it seemed now.  Tom Riddle had once been a handsome boy, able to hypnotize a naive girl like Ginny just by showing her attention, by listening to her when no one else had . . .but his voice held no power over her now.  Whether it was the effect of the bond she had shared with him, or the power of her Elementals, Ginny didn’t know.  But she listened to him with a clarity of perception that came as something of a shock, given the circumstances.

Perhaps it was her prolonged interfacing with the Elements (they had been with her for nearly an hour now, much longer than she ever had maintained contact with them before), but Ginny had never seen things as clearly as she was while watching the events in the graveyard through Harry’s eyes.

She knew — he knew — that it was all a lie.  These people, all of them, in their heavy robes and hoods, cowering in front of this monster, drooling over his power, desperate to snatch some of his crumbs of power . . . they were pawns in his game.  They would never gain the power that they all so desperately hoped to gain from association with the Dark Lord.  He would use them, then toss them away like so much rubbish.

“And here he is . . .” finished Voldemort, playing to his audience with a dramatic sweep of his arm.  “ . . .the boy you all believed had been my downfall . . .”

His arm raised, slowly, the tip of his wand pointing straight at Harry’s heart.

“Crucio!”

Ginny jerked in her seat, biting her tongue so hard in the attempt not to scream that she tasted blood.  The pain went on and on . . .white hot heat . . .searing into his blood . . .her blood . . .their very bones . . .and then it was gone.  Harry was hanging limply in the robes binding him to the headstone.

“Now untie him, Wormtail, and give him back his wand.”

Harry was on his feet now, his injured leg shaking uncontrollably under his weight.

“You have been taught how to duel, Harry Potter?” said Voldemort softly.

Ginny gulped, her grip on Bill’s hand tightening to a fierce squeeze.  She knew what was coming.  Harry was about to face the Avada Kedavra Curse, the unblockable killing spell, the curse that Moody had shown them; the same one that had killed his parents.

“Don’t let him play with you Harry.”

“I won’t give him the satisfaction!”  growled Harry in response.

“And now, we duel!” cried Voldemort, and before he could utter a syllable, Harry had been hit once again by the Cruciatus Curse.

Harry was screaming — screaming so long and so loud that Ginny felt every molecule of her body aching in sympathy.  If ever she would have used her Elementals, this would have been the time.  She could feel her anger just under the surface, begging to be let out — to loose their power on this evil excuse for a human being  - but the Elementals were doing their work, keeping her temper in check.

I could help him!

You must not interfere!

Mira’s voice ringing in her head, Ginny began trembling uncontrollably as white-hot knives of pain pierced every inch of Harry’s skin . . .he felt as if acid was being dripped on him, burning away his flesh . . .his bones. . .

And then it was gone.  Harry rolled over and scrambled to his feet.

“I asked you,” said Voldemort, his high, cold voice edged with laughter.  “I asked you whether you want me to do that again.  Answer me!  Imperio!”

Just answer no.  The hypnotic voice of the Dark Lord was washing over him, through him.

Just say no . . .just answer no . . .

I will not! 

Just answer no . . .

I won’t do it, I won’t say it . . .

Just answer no . . .

“I WON’T!” screamed Ginny, her self-control finally breaking as she stood in her seat.

Everyone in the rows above and below had turned to look at her.  Some were laughing, some whispering behind their hands.  The judges — those that were left — were standing about in a knot by the judge’s table, foreheads all creased with concern.  Something was wrong . . . it was taking to long. . .

No fucking joke! Thought Ginny wildly as Bill pulled her back down beside him and began loudly ‘admonishing’ Ginny for falling asleep.  If only they knew!  Could they help Harry?  Could anyone, even if she were to tell them what was going on? 

You must not interfere.

And so, with a sinking heart, Ginny watched as Harry flung himself behind a marble headstone and heard it crack as the curse Voldemort had aimed at him missed.

“Come out, Harry . . .come out and play, then . . .it will be quick . . .it might even be painless . . .I would not know . . .I have never died . . .”

The despair in Harry’s heart as he heard those words was almost more than Ginny could bear.  There was no hope . . .no help to be had.  He only had himself to rely on, and that thought wasn’t a very cheering one.

“You prat, are you going to kneel there and die like a dog?”  thought Ginny before she could help herself.

Harry started as if he had been goosed.

He was not going to die kneeling at Voldemort’s feet . . .he was going to die upright like his father, and he was going to die trying to defend himself, even if no defense was possible.

Harry stood up . . .he gripped his wand tightly in his hand, thrust it out in front of him, and threw himself around the headstone facing Voldemort.

“Expelliarmus!” bellowed Harry, even as Voldemort shrieked “Avada Kedavra!”

Their wand lights met in midair and Harry’s wand was vibrating, his hand had seized up on the handle . . .their wand were connected now by a deep golden beam of light.  And then they had been lifted, coming to rest on a patch of ground that was clear and free of graves . . .and now Harry and Voldemort were enclosed in a web of golden light . . .and the web was vibrating . . .vibrating with sound .  . .an unearthly music was filling the air, it was coming from every thread of the web . . .it was the sound of hope to Harry, and Ginny felt her eyes filling with tears as she realized that what she was hearing was phoenix song.  It was the sound Harry associated with Dumbledore.

Ginny knew then, knew what had happened.  Somewhere in her brain an untapped memory was tapped. . .the golden light could only mean one thing; Priori Incantatem.  Impossible as it might seem, Harry’s and Voldemort’s wands must share cores! 

Ginny felt a surge of hope flow through her — through her and into Harry as the phoenix song filled his ears.

“Don’t break the connection!” Ginny thought, desperate for Harry to hear her.  He must force Voldemort’s wand to regurgitate its spells . . .that was the only way!

“I know!” said Harry, his mind reeling from the light and sound.

The light connecting the wands had changed.  It was pulsating now, beads of light moving up the thread.  They were sliding slowly toward Harry.  If one of those beads touched his wand . . .

“Don’t let it, Harry!  You can’t let it touch your wand!’

Harry concentrated every last particle of his mind upon forcing the bead back toward Voldemort, his ears full of phoenix song, his eyes fixed . . .

Slowly, ever so slowly, the beads quivered to a halt. 

There was a pause.  Voldemort and Harry both concentrating furiously on the beads, but nothing happened.  Nothing . . .they were evenly matched.

She could help him, she could add her strength to his own.

You must not interfere!

Fuck you! Ginny told Mira’s voice in her head. 

She wasn’t using her elementals, that had been what Mira had warned her about.  This was between her and Harry.  This was something he would have had — her support — even if she had never become an Natural Elemental!

Ginny took a deep breath and closed her eyes, focusing inward, inward, until the stadium and all of the chattering crowd was gone and her entire world was there, there in Harry’s head. 

He was standing, arms trembling uncontrollably as the beads of light hovered in the center of the thread, his own and Voldemort’s concentration equally matched, both of them equally determined to force the light into the other’s wand.

Somebody help me! Anybody! thought Harry desperately.  His arms were shaking, the sweat was pouring off his body, making his hands slick and his eyes sting.

Somebody . . .!

I’m here, Harry. 

He’s going to . . .I can’t hold on . . .I . . .he hadn’t heard he.  He thought he was speaking to the music.  He didn’t know she was there.  She spoke to him anyway, directly to his mind.

Focus, Harry, the bead of light, see? 

I see.

Force it backwards.

I can’t, he’s too strong.

Together, Harry.  We can do it together.

Eyes fixed, Harry focused on the bead, Ginny could feel the sweat breaking out on her own face as she channeled her own power through Harry, into the trembling bead of light. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, the beads began to move the other way, back toward Voldemort’s wand.  One of the beads connected, and the wand began to scream.

Wormtail’s hand . . .Cedric Diggory. . . an old man . . .a woman who must be Bertha Jorkins, Harry’s parents . . .

“When the connection is broken,” murmured his father, “we will linger for only moments . . .but we will give you time . . you must get to the Poretkey, it will return you to Hogwarts . . .do you understand, Harry?”

“Do it now . . .!”

“NOW!”  Harry yelled, he pulled his wand upward with an almighty wrench and the golden light broke.  Harry was running, knowcking aside Death Eaters, dodging curses and graves and snakes . . .Harry dived behind a marble angel to avoid the Death Eater’s stunners.  He reached over, grabbing Cedric’s arm.

“Stand aside!  I will kill him!  He is mine!” shrieked Voldemort. 

Cedric was too heavy to carry, and the Cup was out of reach —

“Are you mad, Potter?  Are you a wizard or not!” Shrieked Ginny, clamping her lips shut so that her voice stayed inside of her head.  “Bring the bloody cup to you!”

“Accio!” bellowed Harry.  The cup flew into the air and soared toward him.  Harry caught it by the handle.  Voldemort’s scream mingled with the rush of color and sound that filled Harry’s ears as the Portkey sped him away; Cedric at his side.

*     *     *