CHAPTER SEVEN: THE DOPPLEGANGER EFFECT

6 June 1994

I feel shredded!  Thank goodness that last exam didn’t take the entire class time!  At least we get a break before supper.  I need it after that last attack of  “The Harries.”  And I’m not talking about the Bogart.  That was humiliating enough, but then when I was giving the Fat Lady the password that double vision thing happened again. 

“The Harries” is my new term for that double vision I get when I’m seeing something through Harry’s eyes.  This one was pretty intense.  Over the Fat Lady’s face I saw Professor Trelawny, her eyes hugely magnified by her glasses and looking so much like a bug that I had to resist my first impulse — which was to swat her away like a midge.  But it was her voice that held me spellbound, riveted to the spot in spite of the Fat Lady’s continued attempts to get my attention.   Even more than her voice was the words:

THE DARK LORD LIES ALONE AND FRIENDLESS, ABANDONED BY HIS FOLLOWERS.  HIS SERVANT HAS BEEN CHAINED THESE TWELVE YEARS.  TONIGHT, BEFORE MIDNIGHT . . .THE SERVANT WILL BREAK FREE AND SET OUT TO REJOIN HIS MASTER.  THE DARK LORD WILL RISE AGAIN WITH HIS SERVANT’S AID, GREATER AND MORE TERRIBLE THAN EVER HE WAS.  TONIGHT . . .BEFORE MIDNIGHT . . .THE SERVANT L. . .WILL WET OUT . . .TO REJOIN . . .HIS MASTER . . .”

And then, in the next instant she was back to her normal self, and the Fat Lady’s yells were filling my head as she called for someone to come help me.  She probably thought that I was having some sort of fit or attack or something.  But I brushed her off and climbed through the portrait hole, desperate to be alone.  I’ve been holed up in my dormitory for the last hour trying to sort out my thoughts that seem to be running in a dozen different directions.

What just happened?  Was that a real prediction?  Was it just a creative way to end the exam?  If it was a real prediction, what did it mean?  And now Hagrid — Buckbeak’s lost the appeal. They’re going to execute Buckbeak at sunset. Harry, Ron and Hermione are going to go down to Hagrid’s cabin after supper.  I’d go myself except that I’m sure Hagrid had a choice he’d prefer their company.  I don’t mean that in a bad way, it’s just the truth.

Ginny sighed and put away her journal.  How was she going to pretend that everything was going normally when she knew that Harry, Ron and Hermione were planning on sneaking down to see Hagrid after supper?  How could she act normal when she knew that there was no chance for Buckbeak?  So much for her dream!  She congratulated herself on not having told Hagrid as she’d first planned on doing.  Dumbledore had been right, giving him false hope would have devastated him.

She knew of course what it was Harry had tucked down the front of his robes; the invisibility cloak.  She watched the three of them covertly all during supper.  They had their heads together, talking quietly, not eating much, but rather pushing the food around on their plates to pass the time.

It wasn’t fair, she thought suddenly.  The three of them had been best of friends since their first year.  Who did she have?  Her first year had been spent in a self-inflicted, no, Tom inflicted exile.  By the time she’d gotten herself straightened out, everyone was spoken for.  All the friendships and cliques were established.

You have Bill — she told herself sternly. And Mira.

But they were grownups.

Colin then.

A geek!

All right, Neville.

A misfit.

But then, so aren’t I? 

Face it, Ginevra, you’ll never be what others call normal, not after everything that’s happened.

 It had been Mira’s voice again, Ginny had to grin.  Trust Mira to set her straight.  No, she’d never be normal.  The best she could hope for was to learn to be comfortable with who she was . . .her gifts . . .her powers. . .

Ginny was acutely aware of Harry, Ron and Hermione ducking into the unused classroom and made a point of glaring at the door as she passed it on her way up to the marble staircase.

“Off on another adventure!” she muttered darkly.  Too bad she didn’t have her own invisibility cloak or she’d duck out herself and follow them whether they liked it or not.  At least she’d know what they were up to this time.  Ginny had to grin as she climbed the now familiar route to Gryffindor tower.  She had front row seats.  “Just add popcorn!” she chortled as she turned into the Fat Lady’s corridor.  Just as she did so the vertigo hit.

One second she’d been stumping along, feeling sorry for herself and wondering when Harry was going to leave his hidey hole and go do something interesting.  The next she had stumbled into a suit of armor as everything inside her head shifted.

She would have gone sprawling, too, if the suit of armor she was passing hadn’t reacted in a typically chivalrous manner by dropping it’s mace and catching her before she hit the floor.  She knew it had caught her.  She wanted to say something, to thank it, but the voices in her head; Harry’s, Ron’s and Hermione’s were overwhelming her, driving out all rational thought.  Harry’s voice, his thoughts, were overlapping, and when she opened her eyes it was as if she were seeing not just through her own and Harry’s eyes, but her own, and Harry’s and Harry’s again.

Like right now . . .he was under the invisibility cloak.  He and Ron and Hermione were making their way across the Entrance Hall with painfully slow steps so as not to make any noise, but Harry was also sitting in a dark, cramped space — a broom cupboard (she could see rows of cleaner on a shelf beside him and a mop propped up in a corner).

What the hell was going on?

“Are you telling me that we’re here in this cupboard and we’re out there, too?”  Came Harry’s voice.  He sounded just as dazed as Ginny felt.

“Yes . . .” came Hermione’s voice.  “We’ve gone down the front steps.”

Harry was in a broom cupboard, with Hermione?  Ginny clutched the armor’s rough-clad arm, choking back a shout of laughter.  It was obvious that they weren’t doing anything, but still!  Harry and Hermione . . .in a broom cupboard . . .!  She couldn’t help it, she let loose with a snort of laughter and heard the armor wheeze out a laugh in response.  It obviously thought she was laughing over her clumsiness.  But Ginny couldn’t concentrate on the armor, Harry’s voice again . . .in her head . . .

“Where did you get that hourglass thing?”

Ginny had wondered that herself, and was just congratulating herself on finally learning something worth while, that she yelped out loud when a sudden pain shot through her foot making her collapse once again into the armor’s embrace.

“Get off my foot!” hissed the Harry under the cloak as if in response to the pain in Ginny’s foot.  No, the pain had been in Harry’s foot, Ron had just trod on it.

“It’s called a time turner,” said Hermione, sounding as ever as if she’d swallowed a textbook. Harry could just make out the oval of her face in the glimmer of light coming in under the door. 

“I’ve been using it all year to get to all my lessons,” explained the Hermione in the broom cupboard, oblivious to Harry’s pain.  But of course she is, Ginny told herself dazedly.  The Harry who just got his foot stomped on is under the cloak, the Harry in the broom cupboard is merely wondering what the hell it is that he’s sitting on.

“I say there, Gawain!  What have you got there?” asked a voice that sounded as if it belonged to Nearly Headless Nick.

Ginny opened her eyes blearily.  Images washed across her field of vision.  The voices in her head were clamoring for attention.

Feet walking.  A strip of light around what had to be the broom cupboard door. A root sticking up.

“Watch that mud puddle!” hissed Ron’s voice in her (no, Harry’s) ear.

“Harry,” wailed Hermione’s voice in his other ear.  “I don’t understand what Dumbledore wants us to do!  Why did he tell us to go back three hours?  How’s that going to help Sirius?”

Sirius?  Thought Ginny dazedly.  Was she talking about Sirius Black?  Why would Dumbledore want to help a convicted murderer? Wasn’t he supposed to want Harry dead?

“Watch out, here comes Sprout!” muttered Harry, and the group under the cloak froze, but the Harry in the broom cupboard was squeezing a sponge in his hands which was making odd squelching sounds and Ginny had to resist the urge to tell him to shut up.

“There must be something that happened around now he wants us to change,” said the Harry in the cupboard, still squelching the sponge.

“Miss Weasley?  What is it?  Are you all right?”  Nick’s icy touch on her arm was oddly comforting.  Ginny came back to herself with a start.  “Should I fetch Madam Pomfrey?  Gawain, could you carry her to the hospital wing?” For a brief moment everything was perfectly clear.

“No!”  Ginny rasped.  God her head hurt!  It felt as if her whole brain was screwed up in concentration as she tried to sort out what was happening.  “I — I’m not sick!” she managed.  “I need — I need to go to bed Nick.  These . . .attacks . . .sometimes . . .since the Chamber.”

What she needed was for the voices to stop!  What she needed was for Harry to stop doing two things at once!  What she needed . . .

“Hermione, we’re going to save Buckbeak!” Harry nearly shouted, and Ginny felt her heart give a sudden lurch at the proximity of his voice.  “We’re going to fly Buckbeak up to the window and rescue Sirius.  Sirius can escape on Buckbeak — they can escape together!”

Harry was going to help Sirius Black escape?  But he hadn’t been caught yet — had he?  Thoroughly confused, Ginny tried opening her eyes again but closed them almost immediately.  Harry, Ron and Hermione were still walking sedately under the invisibility cloak, she could see the grass passing smoothly beneath their feet, but Harry was also sprinting across the uneven ground of the vegetable patch.

The armor let out a series of clanks and wheezes that brought Ginny back to herself for a moment.  She assumed that the noises must pass as its speech.  Then Nick’s voice was filtering into her consciousness again.

“Gawain says he would carry you to Gryffindor tower, but he is too big to fit through the portrait hole, and I — I can not.”

Ginny gave the armor’s mailed fist a grateful pat.

“So I will fetch someone to help you into bed.  One of your brothers, perhaps?”

“Not — not Percy!” Ginny managed.

Harry was still sprinting . . .down the hill . . .headed straight for . . . “the Forbidden Forrest!” Ginny moaned.

“Ginny?”  That was George’s voice and it was coming from somewhere ahead of her.  He sounded scared.  “Ginny, what is it?  What’s wrong?  Do you need Madam Pomfrey?”

Why did everyone keep asking her that?  She needed quiet!  She needed to be able to concentrate on what was happening.

“No!  Please, George, just . . .bed . . .please!”

George’s strong arms were around her now, lifting her as if she weighed no more than a Quaffle.  She tired to focus — focus on George instead of the Hippogriff which was suddenly superimposed over his features and behind George — and the Hippogriff — she could see not only the Fat Lady’s hallway, but also the inside of Hagrid’s house.  It was like some sort of psychotic fun house where the makers had somehow manipulated both time and space.  Ginny retched.

“I’m taking you to the nurse.”

“No, George, please!  Ever since . . .last summer . . .get . . .attacks . . .vertigo,” Ginny lied. 

“How come you didn’t tell us?”

“Haven’t . . .haven’t had one . . in . . .months . . .”

Hagrid’s hands were shaking so badly he could barely pour the tea.  Somehow, Ginny wasn’t at all surprised when the milk jug slipped out of his hands and shattered on the floor.

“Isn’t there anything anyone can do, Hagrid?” Harry was saying, and his concern for his friend was nearly overpowering, but then so was the nervousness of the Harry who was watching the tableau from the edge of the Forbidden Forrest.

“What can I do, Ginny?” George was asking

“I just . . . need to . . . rest.  Need . . to get . . . to bed.”

George made as if to stand up, but Ginny put one arm out, touching the armor gently on its shoulder.  “Thank you,” she told it.  It nodded in reply and motioned them towards the portrait hole.

“Dumbledore’s gonna come down while it happens,” Hagrid was saying even as George lifted her through the hole.

“I can’t carry you upstairs, Ginny, the steps are charmed.”

Why was he telling her that?  Couldn’t he see that Hagrid was upset?  And Hermione . . . she needed help . . .the jug . . .

“Oy, Angelina!”

Ginny was dimly aware of Angelina’s face above her, and then of being scooped up into her arms.

“I’ll look out for her, get Lisa — there, no, the other one.  Ask her to come up.”

“Ron!”  Hermione’s disbelieving voice was shrill in Harry’s ear.  “Ron — I don’t believe it, its Scabbers!”

“He isn’t dead!” Ginny murmured out loud.

“Ginny, what?  Who’s not dead?”  Angelina’s face was very close to hers, a Quidditch roughened hand on her forehead.  “She’s not running a temperature.”  Angelina was talking to someone out of Ginny’s line of sight.

“I’ll watch her, Angelina, you go ahead back downstairs.”  That was Lisa’s voice. 

“I’m worried though, what if its — something else?” said Angelina, the concern apparent in her tone and Ginny had to wonder just how much Fred and George had told her about what had happened last year.

“What do you mean?”

“Never mind, just — just keep an eye on her and tell me — tell me if she starts acting — odd.”

They didn’t need to worry about her.  They needed to worry about Buckbeak.  The executioner was coming.  Buckbeak was going to be murdered — or was he?  What was Harry doing in Hagrid’s pumpkin patch?  While the Harry inside Hagrid’s cabin was feeling wretched at events over which he had no control, the Harry in the pumpkin patch was approaching the place where Buckbeak was tied up.

“Don’t forget to bow!”  Ginny hissed.

“Bow to who, Ginny?” asked Lisa’s anxious voice.  Ginny was in bed now.  When had she gotten into bed?

“Buckbeak, move!”

“Who’s Buckbeak?” asked Mandy’s querulous voice.  “If she’s sick, Lisa, shouldn’t she be in the hospital wing?”

“If she’s not better by morning I’ll take her to see Madam Pomfrey,” said Lisa placatingly.

“Please let’s hurry,” moaned the Hermione under the invisibility cloak.  “I can’t stand it.  I can’t bear it!”

But what was she talking about?  Didn’t Harry have Buckbeak?  Weren’t they hiding in the forest just behind Hagrid’s hut, listening to their invisible selves walking back up to the castle?

“Someone untied him!” growled the executioner.

“I can’t hold him, Scabbers, shut up, everyone will hear us-” who was Ron trying to hold?  Definitely not Buckbeak, Harry was holding onto Buckbeak.  Ron was clutching a squirming Scabbers against his chest.

There was a mighty thud as the axe Macnair was holding was swung into the fence.

“We should search the grounds, the forest-”

“Macnair, if Buckbeak has indeed been stolen, do you really think the thief will have led him away on foot?  Search the skies if you will.”

“There’s Ron!” said Harry as Ron appeared out of nowhere.

“Ron!” Hermione moaned as Ron threw off the invisibility cloak.

“Gotcha!  Get off you stinking cat!”

Ron had stuffed the squealing rat back into his pocket, but now a great black dog had bowled Harry over, it was grabbing Ron by the arm and dragging him away.

“There’s Sirius,” said Harry’s voice in a matter of fact tone.

Ginny clutched at her head as a sudden pain shot through it.  Her face stung.  She could taste blood (was it her own, or Harry’s?)

“Ouch, look!” said Harry.  “I just got walloped by the tree — and so did you — this is so weird-”

Harry was darting about, avoiding branches and watching himself avoid the branches and then, suddenly, the lashing branches simply stopped.  Crookshanks had darted forward.  He was slithering between the battering branches like a snake and had placed his front paws upon a knot on the trunk.

“That was Crookshanks pressing the knot,” said Hermione as the tree suddenly stopped moving.

But Harry wasn’t listening, or rather the other Harry wasn’t listening.  He was sliding down a slope to the bottom of a very low, earthen tunnel and was watching himself disappear into the roots of the tree at the same time.

Ginny groaned.  As disconcerting as watching Harry watch himself had been, at least he had been watching and experiencing the same thing.  Now he was running through a low, earthy tunnel at a crouch, sweat streaming down his face and neck, panting for Hermione to keep up, but he was also still watching from between the branches of a beech tree as first Lupin and then Snape disappeared into the tunnel beneath the Whomping Willow as well.

What the hell was going on? 

The hourglass, Hermione’s hourglass, it was a Timeturner.  She’d said she’d been using it for lessons, so that meant . . .what had Hermione said?  Something about Dumbledore sending them back three hours till it was just after supper.  Supper had ended just before nine.  Which meant that Harry and Hermione had left — wherever it was they had been — just before midnight. 

And then Harry, he’d said something about saving Buckbeak and Sirius . . .so between, what was it, nearly ten now?  Between now and midnight, something was going to happen that would prove Sirius Black to be an innocent man.  If that was the case, why had Dumbledore sent two thirteen-year-old wizards to save him . . .unless . . .

Ginny’s train of thought derailed as she listened to Harry tell Hermione the story of the Dementors and of casting the Patronus and how his other self had thought it was his Dad.  Just as he finished, his other self was discovering that he and Hermione were in the Shrieking Shack.

The tunnel led to the Shrieking Shack, the most severely haunted dwelling in Britain.  Ginny shuddered.  That was where the dog (that was Sirius) had taken her brother?  Before she could digest this, they’d found him, Ron, he was Okay.  His leg was clearly broken and he seemed absolutely terrified, but otherwise he seemed unharmed.  “Harry,” he was saying, “it’s a trap.  He’s the dog . . .he’s an Animagus . . .”

Harry was dripping sweat from his sprint through the tunnel.  The breeze coming in across the lake was cool though, oh, that was his other self.  The Harry on the lakeshore was enjoying the breeze, which was lifting the hair off his forehead.  He was thinking that this would work — it had to. 

What would work?  Definitely not helping Harry to hold his temper.  The Harry in the Shrieking Shack had completely lost control.

“He killed my Mum and Dad!” Harry was screaming as he lunged at Black.

The door to the bedroom burst open in a shower of red sparks . . .Professor Lupin had arrived.  He had disarmed Harry and Hermione and then —

“Where is he, Sirius?”

Sirius raised his hand, pointing straight at Ron.

“ . . .you switched . . .without telling me?”  And Lupin had lowered his wand, walked up to Black and embraced him in a brotherly hug.

What the bloody hell was going on here?  What was he talking about?  How could Sirius Black of switched?  Switch what?  With who?  But Ginny didn’t have time to work it out, because Hermione was screaming “I don’t believe it!  Harry, don’t trust him.  He’s been helping Black get into the castle, he wants you dead too — he’s a werewolf!”

A werewolf?  Lupin?  My god that was it!  That explained everything!  Well, the bits about Lupin being sick every month, anyway.

Ginny clutched at her head.  Harry in two places at the same time . . .Black an Animagus . . .Lupin a werewolf and Ron putting himself between Harry and a convicted killer . . .her hand encountered a damp clothe which she pushed aside.

“Leave it on,” said Lisa sternly from somewhere near her left shoulder.  “It’ll help.”

“Nothing . . .can help . . .” Ginny moaned.

“Just lie still,” Lisa was saying, but her voice was being overridden by several others . . .Lupin explaining how he’d been watching the map, how he’d seen three of them go into Hagrid’s and four come out.  Black was claiming that Scabbers wasn’t a rat but an Animagus by the name of Peter Pettigrew . . .and Hermione was arguing with them both.  Lupin was talking now, explaining how Harry’s father, Sirius and Peter had discovered that he was a werewolf and had worked out how to become Animagi so that they could keep him company when he transformed, and of their escapades during the full moon and finally, how James Potter had once saved Snape’s life.

“So that’s why Snape doesn’t like you,” said Harry slowly, “because he thought you were in on the joke?”

“That’s right,” sneered a cold voice from the wall behind Lupin.  Snape had arrived.

“Oh god, Harry, I’m so sorry, I should have warned you!” Ginny moaned.  But Harry didn’t respond.  He was frozen in place, his nerves thrumming as if he’d received an electric shock.

“I’ve told the headmaster again and again that you’re helping your old friend Black into the castle, Lupin, and here’s the proof.”

“Severus, you’re making a mistake.”

But Snape wasn’t listening.  He had a manic glint in his eye as he bound Lupin.

“But if — if there was a mistake-”

“Keep quiet you stupid girl!” Snape shouted at Hermione, and Ginny felt her own surge of anger wash through her.

As if in response to her reaction, Harry crossed the room and blocked the door.

“Get out of the way, Potter.”

Stupid great slimy git — thought Ginny furiously.

“You’re pathetic!” Ginny yelled and was hardly surprised to hear the same words simultaneously coming out of Harry’s mouth.  “Just because they made a fool out of you at school you won’t even listen-”

Who’s thought had that been?  It was impossible to tell, but it was also impossible to miss the hatred in Snape’s next words.

“Silence!  I will not be spoken to like that . . .now get out of the way, or I will make you.  Get out of the way, Potter!”

He’s got to be stopped!  Ginny pleaded silently.

Oh yeah, you’ve got that right, came Harry’s immediate response.  “Expeliarmus!”

Much better.  Snape was lying in a heap against the wall and Black was explaining about how he’d recognized Peter Pettigrew when he’d seen him on Ron’s shoulder in the publicity photo from the previous summer.

Ginny’s insides went icy and, for a moment, even though she could still hear Harry, Ron and Hermione all protesting, she could, for the first time all evening, hear herself think.

Scabbers was really a wizard in disguise?  That would definitely explain the uneasiness she felt around him.  And it would definitely explain why she’d felt so vulnerable that one day that she’d gone to her room and found Scabbers sitting in the middle of her bed.

The flash of blue-white light emanating from Black’s and Lupin’s wands brought her attention back to the present (it was the present, wasn’t it?  It felt like the present — and the future — and, well, the Harry from the future was waiting under the Beech tree, waiting for them all to reappear, his stomach churning slightly out of nerves at the prospect of what had yet to be done — save Sirius).

And sure enough, Scabbers had disappeared.  A short, watery-eyed, pointy-nosed man was standing where Scabbers had been a moment before, and even his voice was squeaky.

Ginny giggled and, as if from a long ways away, heard Lisa telling Mandy off for complaining about Ginny’s not being quiet.  She’d have to remember to thank Lisa later, but not right now, right now she was too distracted by the little man, who was crying, his eyes darting about the room as if in search of a bolthole.  And now he was confessing, yes, it had been he who had betrayed the Potters.

And Harry, looking at Sirius, understanding that Sirius blamed himself for Lily and James’ death because he’d convinced them to switch to Peter, forgave him.  She watched in amazement as Pettigrew whimpered about how he’d had to do it, how Voldemort would have killed him if he hadn’t.

“Then you should have died!”  Black was roaring.  He and Lupin had raised their wands.  They were going to kill him when —

“No!”  Harry had placed himself in front of Pettigrew.

“I’m not doing this for you!  I’m doing it because I don’t reckon my Dad would’ve wanted them to become killers — just for you.”

And then Peter had been shackled, Snape’s still lifeless body was floating like some weird puppet and they were on their way back . . .back to the Hogwarts grounds . . .back to bring the real culprit to justice . . .

But something goes wrong, Ginny thought wildly as she listened to Black offering Harry a home with him.  Harry’s powerful rush of emotion at the thought of being able to finally leave the Dursleys, of finally having a real home was breathtaking.  Something goes very wrong, why else would he be sitting out here waiting to save Sirius when on the other end of the tunnel things for Harry are finally seeming to go right?

Black saw Snape up through the hole, then stood back for Harry and Hermione to pass.

“Here we come.”

Any second now, any second now that could was going to shift, thought the Harry hiding beneath the Beech tree.

Cloud?  Why would — “Oh my god, Lupin!” Ginny shouted, the pieces finally falling together in her head.  It was a full moon, Lupin hadn’t drunk his potion, Snape had said so.  As if in response to her thought she could hear Hermione gasp, “OH, my he didn’t take his potion tonight.  He’s not safe!”

There goes Lupin!” Hermione whispered.  “He’s transforming.”

Lupin’s head was trembling, lengthening and Ginny retched as the vertigo induced by watching the same event from two different angles overtook her again.

“Hermione-” said the Harry watching from the Beech tree, but Hermione couldn’t hear him, she was screaming as Pettigrew cursed first Ron and then Crookshanks, oh, that was the other Hermione.

“Hermione, we’ve got to move . . .Lupin’s going to run into the forest, right at us!”

Peter had transformed, and the werewolf was galloping towards the forest just seconds after the Harry and Hermione who had been watching from under the Beech tree had barricaded themselves in Hagrid’s house.  The werewolf paused on the edge of the forest, turned its snout to the moon, and howled.  A chill wrapped itself around Ginny’s heart as she realized that she was hearing the howl not only with both sets of Harry’s ears, but with her own as well. And now, from a great distance, there came the whining yelp of a dog in pain.

“Sirius!” said both Harry’s in unison, making Ginny’s head reel.

He and Hermione would be running to Sirius at any moment — they were running to him.  The Dementors were moving away from him — gliding in a black mass around the lake toward them.

“Hermione, think of something happy!”

Harry was watching the silver glimmers of his own attempts at a Patronus as they were extinguished even . . .

As the nearest Dementor raised both its rotting hands and lowered its hood. 

It was time for the rescuer to appear. 

There were strong clammy hands on his neck, forcing his face upwards . . .

And it hit him, he understood . . .

Her screams, his mothers screams, were filling his head.  She was going to be the last thing he ever heard.

He hadn’t seen his father, he had seen himself!  Harry flung himself out from behind the bush and pulled out his wand . . .

 . . .the putrid breath filling his nostrils, filling his lungs with ice . . .

“EXPECTO PATRONUM!”  Out of his wand burst a blinding, dazzling silver animal . . .

 . . .he thought he saw a slivery light growing brighter . . .and brighter . . .the blinding light was illuminating the grass around him . . .something was driving the dementors back . . .it was circling around them . . .Harry raised his head and saw . . .

 . . .it was a stag.  “Prongs?” Harry said softly, and raised his hand to touch the glowing creature . . .

 . . . on the opposite shore of the lake, someone . . .someone who looked strangely familiar . . .raising his hand to welcome the glowing animal back.  He felt the last of his strength leave him, and his head hit the ground as he fainted.

Ginny drew in a great gasping breath of relief as one point of view faded into blackness.  Now she was only watching, listening, as Harry explained what it was he had done to Hermione, how he had saved all of their lives, how he had thought he was his father.  And then Harry and Hermione were watching as Snape magicked everyone lying on the lakeshore onto stretchers and took them back up to the castle.

It had been powerful magic. She had felt the raw power of it course through Harry.  It had come from deep inside him, from that core of raw potential that she had always known was there.  Calling up that powerful Patronus had seemed as natural to him as calling the elements was to her.

Ginny tried to sit up, was it over then?  Merlin, her mouth was so dry!  She needed a drink.  But no sooner had she swung her legs over the side of the bed when the vertigo hit her again. Damn.  One Harry she could deal with.  She’d mastered the art of that months ago.  Two Harries was one Harry too many.  She retched, her stomach lurching as the Harry in the hospital wing began to come around. 

Fudge’s voice.  Snape’s voice.  Hermione’s eyes all big, lying in the bed beside him.

“There goes Macnair, this is it, Hermione!”

But the Harry in the hospital wing wasn’t speaking.  No.  That was the Harry by the lake. He and Hermione were mounting Buckbeak, soaring straight up into the cool night air.

“Oh I don’t like this,” Hermione moaned in Harry’s ear, but Harry was watching Madam Pomfrey, who was walking briskly up the aisle between the beds.

“Twelve . . .thirteen . . .whoa!”  Harry called to Buckbeak.

“The Dementors will be performing the kiss any minute now!” said Madam Pomfrey smoothly.

“What!” yelled Harry, who was also telling Black to get on because there wasn’t much time.

“Minister, listen, Sirius Black is innocent.”

“Okay, Buckbeak, up!”

“You’ve got the wrong man!”

The cacophony of voices was making Ginny’s ears ache.

“Harry, how can I ever repay you?”

“Just go!”

“I’M NOT CONFUNDED!”  The taste of chocolate, Madam Pomfrey had just stuffed an incredibly large piece of chocolate into his mouth.

He was gone.  Black was gone, he and Buckbeak were just a shape now, silhouetted against the full moon, and Hermione’s voice in his ear.

“We have exactly ten minutes to get back to the hospital wing without anybody seeing us before Dumbledore-”

“I want to talk to Harry and Hermione alone.”

“ . . .locks us in.”

“Surely you don’t believe them!”

“Ooh, he’s horrible!” 

It took Ginny a second to realize that she wasn’t talking about Snape at all, but Peeves, who was bouncing along the corridor in great high spirits.

“Now pay attention,” Dumbledore was saying.

“Hermione, what will happen if we don’t get back . . .” he and Hermione were racing along corridors, up flights of stairs.

“Sirius is locked in Professor Flitwick’s office . . .”

“If we don’t bet back . . .”

“You must not be seen.”

“Before Dumbledore locks the door?”

The vertigo increased as Harry was now viewing Dumbledore from the front and the back.  They had reached the hospital wing.

“I am going to lock you in.”  The voice, she was hearing it through both Harries again.  “It is five minutes ‘till midnight, Miss Granger.”

This was it, thought Ginny.  This was where Harry had gone back.

“Three turns should do it.  Good luck.”

“We did it!”  said the Harry behind Dumbledore.

“Harry, come here.”  The Hermione in the hospital wing was beckoning to him. She had slipped the chain around his neck, she was flipping the hourglass end over end over —

With a gut-wrenching lurch, everything went back to normal.  The first Harry, the first Harry was — was gone . . .gone as if he’d never been.  The second was standing by Ron’s hospital bed, sharing a dumbfounded look with Hermione.

Ginny collapsed back onto her own bed.

“Ginny?”  It was Lisa’s voice again

“Am I allowed to look after my patients now?”  Madam Pomfrey’s careworn face was superimposed over Lisa’s young, unlined one.  Ginny squinted.  No.  This was the normal sort of double vision.  This she could deal with.

A low, rumbling sort of roar became audible.  Someone just outside of Gryffindor tower in the seventh floor corridor was roaring in rage (he’s being held in Professor Flitwick’s office on the seventh floor — they must have found the office empty).  The angry male voices passed out of Ginny’s hearing range . . .and into Harry’s.

It was Snape.

“He’s gone mad!”thought Ginny as Snape’s furious face came determinedly up the aisle between the beds.

“Gee, you think?” replied Harry waspishly, “Of course he’s mad, I just helped his archenemies escape from under his nose.”

“His abysmally large nose,” retorted Ginny.

“And deprived him of his order of Merlin.”

“Useless old coin on a pin.”

“But he looks worse than mad, he looks-”

“Deranged,” they said together.

Grinning, Ginny accepted the goblet of water that Lisa handed her and even managed to climb into her pajamas while in her head Dumbledore sorted out Snape and Hermione filled Ron in on his missing time.

“Thanks, Lisa.”

“Will you be Okay now?”

“Yeah,” said Ginny chuckling.  “I think I will, and Lisa?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks, you know, for looking out for me.”

“You’re welcome Ginny.  You would have done the same.”

“Yeah, I suppose.  I guess I at least owe you an explanation.”

“When you’re feeling up to it.”

“There’s bits I’ll have to skip.”

“It’s all right, really.”

“But I’ll tell you what I can.”

“I’d like that.”

9 June 1994

It’s taken me three days, but I think I’ve sorted it out.  Sirius black originally agreed to be the Potter’s secret keeper, but convinced Lily and James to switch to Peter Pettigrew, their other best friend, at the last minute.  Pettigrew, who had been spying for Voldemort for at least a year, promptly turned them in to his master.

Voldemort tracked them down, killed Lily and James and then tried to kill Harry.  The curse backfired and Voldemort was reduced to less than a ghost.  Sirius went to check on Wormtail, found him missing, then went to check on Lily and James and found their house in ruins.  He tried to convince Hagrid to give Harry to him.  Hagrid refused, having had previous orders from Dumbledore.  Black then tracked down Pettigrew, found him on a Muggle street.

Pettigrew, cornered, yelled out for everyone to hear that Black had betrayed the Potters before blowing apart the street with the wand behind his back and then transforming into a rat and disappearing into the sewers, leaving Black to take the blame for his supposed murder.

Black then spent twelve years in Azkaban prison.  He maintains his sanity because he knows he’s innocent and it’s not a happy thought.  Then, one day, he just happens to see the newspaper, which just happens that particular day, to be the edition with the publicity photo in which he sees and recognizes Scabbers as Pettigrew.  Sirius then escapes as a dog, makes his way down to Surry (just to catch a glimpse of Harry), then makes his way to Hogsmeade where he hides out in a cave above the village so that he can be on hand if Peter tries anything.

While he’s there he tries to break in to get Scabbers on Halloween.  It doesn’t work.  He then enlists Crookshanks to help him, but Scabbers knows that someone is out to get him.  He disappears, makes it look as if Crookshanks ate him, cause faking his own death worked before.  So, when Black breaks into the castle again, Scabbers is gone.  When Black realizes that Scabbers has preempted him, he leaves, perhaps even escaping through the tunnel Harry used to get out of Hogwarts himself.

Then, Thursday night, Harry’s out on the grounds with Hermione, Ron and Scabbers.  Black takes the opportunity to do what he’s been trying to do along and snatch the rat, except that he gets Ron too.  Harry and Hermione follow him in an attempt to rescue Ron.  Lupin too follows, but he has an even better idea as to what is going on, seeing as that he’s seen Peter on the Marauder’s map.

Snape, who just happens to be bringing Lupin a goblet of his potion, sees the map, but only sees Lupin running through the tunnel (Harry, Ron, Hermione and Peter are already beyond the Hogwarts grounds) and takes off after Lupin.

Snape gets stunned.  Peter is show up for what he really is and Black offers Harry a home once his name is cleared.  They’re going to turn Peter over to the Dementors, and it’s a good plan, except they forgot about it being a full moon.  Lupin transforms.  Black changes too in an attempt to keep Lupin from harming the others.  Pettigrew takes advantage of the chaos to turn into a rat and after stunning both Ron and Crookshanks, he takes off into the night.  Black goes after him, but is stopped by Dementors.  Harry and Hermione try to rescue Black, but the Dementors trap them too. All three of them would have been killed if it weren’t for the intervention of a mysterious wizard wielding a powerful Patronus charm from across the lake.

Snape comes to and takes everyone up to the castle.  Black is put in Professor Flitwick’s office and Dementors are sent for to perform the Kiss.  In the hospital wing, Harry and Hermione come to and try to explain what really happened, but no one will believe that Black is innocent, least of all Professor Snape.  Dumbledore asks to see Harry and Hermione alone and without really telling them to, tells them how to go back in time using Hermione’s Timeturner (which she has been using all year to get to all her classes) and save not only Sirius, but Buckbeak.

Hermione understands at once what he is suggesting and takes herself and Harry back in time three hours where they save Buckbeak, Harry drives off the Dementors and they fly Buckbeak up to Flitwick’s office window, free Black and send him and Buckbeak off together, then they rush back to the hospital wing.

Did I miss anything?  How about the fact that I fell asleep just after one a.m. Friday morning and slept for fifteen straight hours and barely woke up in time for Friday night supper.  Lupin was gone by the time I finally came around.  I really wish that I’d gotten the chance to say goodbye.

You know what else?  Lisa and I had a long talk Saturday morning.  I told her what I could (which wasn’t a whole lot, but she didn’t push it) and we agreed to write to each other over the summer.  I really like the way that she stood up to Mandy and stayed by me until everything got back to normal.  I think that I may just have made a friend.

30 June 1994

“So, think we’ll manage to find seats this go?”

Ginny turned abruptly and found Neville standing just behind her, Trevor clutched tightly in one hand, his other clasping the notebook Ginny knew held his poems.  Funny, but with his cloak under one ear and his hair all rumpled he even looked a bit like a poet.

“We need to find your look, Neville,” she said without thinking.  “Young aspiring poet.”  She framed him in her hands, cocking her head to take in his appearance.

“Shush!  Ginny!  You promised!”

“How about a bow tie?”

“Nah, bow ties make my neck look too thick.”

“A sweater vest then.”

“God no, then I’d look like Percy!”

They both dissolved into giggles as Percy (who was indeed wearing a sweater vest) passed in front of them, his horn rummed glasses flashing, a clipboard at the ready.

“School’s over, Perce!  Time to loose the Head Boy motif!” called Fred from down the platform.

Percy glared his disapproval before sweeping over to settle a dispute between three Ravenclaw boys who were debating the finer points of cobbing and were practicing what they preached.

“So, Neville, what look do you want?”

“One of my own.  I hate looking like one of the crowd, but all the good looks are taken.”

“Really?” said Ginny, looking around.  “I never noticed anyone cultivating a particular look. Who are you talking about?”

“Well, Draco for one.  He’s got the suave, sophisticated bit in the bag.”

That was true.  Malfoy may be a git, but at least he was an elegantly dressed git.  His clothes were undoubtedly tailor made.  Even his T-shirts fit him like a glove, showcasing his well-defined chest and shoulder muscles and a slim waist.  And his hands . . .

Ginny shivered.  She had never known anyone with hands that could rival Malfoy’s for pure sexiness.  Maybe it was the fact that he was always perfectly manicured, or the fact that he had long, tapered fingers, but even the way he held his wand or a goblet could set a girl’s heart to beating faster.  Slimy git.

“And Goyle’s got the clueless idiot down pat,” said Ginny, sniggering as Goyle tripped over a non-existent tree root.

“Well, I’d be relieved that clueless idiot is taken,” said Neville, giving Ginny his lopsided smile, “if it weren’t for the fact that I’m certain to be a contender for short, fat coward.”

“You’re taller than me!”

“Fat then.”

“No, that title belongs to Ben Andrews.”

They both watched as tubby Benny heaved himself into a compartment.

“I’m sort of partial to casually sexy myself,” said Ginny, her eye on Harry.

“To bad you brother’s got that one in the bag then,” said Neville.

Ginny blinked.

“George?”

“No, Ron of course.”

“Ron?” said Ginny bemusedly.

“Open your eyes Ginny.  Look at him!”  Neville prodded her in the back and pointed over her shoulder.

Ginny turned to look where Neville was pointing.  Sure enough, there were Ron and Hermione, obviously in the middle of another row.

Hermione had her hands on her hips and her busy brown hair nearly crackled with energy.  Ron on the other hand looked completely at his ease (which meant, Ginny knew, that he had been the one to pick the fight).  One of his hands was at the back of his head, that arm’s elbow propped against the side of the train.  The thumb of his other hand was hooked through his belt loop.  With his hair just slightly rumpled and the odd, quirky half-smile on his face, Ron did indeed look surprisingly sexy.

“Damn!” said Ginny eloquently.

“Tell you one thing though,” said Neville, liking his arm through hers.  “We’ll both have the left behind look if we don’t get on the train!”

30 June 1994

At least Neville and I both found seats this time.  Grant you, we ended up sitting with Colin and his first year buddies Mark and Justin, but it could have been worse, and Lisa did save the day by coming in after the lunch cart had gone by and challenging Neville, Colin and myself to a game of exploding Snap.

I can’t believe that the year is already over.  These last three weeks in particular have gone by awfully fast. 

I think I can truly say that I’ve made two friends this year, Neville and Lisa.  Three if you count Colin.  And I think that Hermione and I may be well on our way to becoming friends as well.  Hell, four friends may not be a lot, but it beats last year all hollow.  It felt good too, to be sitting with people who want you there, not people who are being nice to you because you’re their little sister or their friend’s little sister.  (I may be Ron’s little sister, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let a title like that define my life!)

Do you know how much self-control it took to keep myself from stopping in to see Ron, Harry and Hermione in their compartment?  My heart actually lurch as I passed by on the way to join Colin (who had stuck his head out and was beckoning us down to sit with him), but you know what?  I kept walking.