Disclaimer: JKR owns all things Potter
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The next day, at the Great Hall, Ginny told Hermione of her admirer. Hermione was intrigued, but both of the Gryffindor girls kept their voices low. Harry and Ron were in the chairs across from them and Ginny had no intention of informing either boy of the new developments in her love life.
“What are you going to do?” Hermione asked, gesturing to the note. Ginny shrugged.
“I was hoping you could tell me.” The youngest Weasley buttered a slice of toast and munched on the morsel, still staring at the scrap of parchment. Hermione looked on for a moment before turning to Ron and peering over his shoulder.
“Ron! You haven’t done McGonagall’s essay?!” She cried, exasperated. Ron looked up from his roll of parchment sheepishly.
“I started it.” He muttered, returning to scribbling furiously across the parchment. Hermione’s eyes scanned the page, reading.
“Are you trying to make your handwriting completely illegible so McGonagall won’t notice that you’ve mixed Switching Spells and Figure Spells?” Hermione remarked, “Honestly, Ronald, have you retained any information from your classes at all?”
“Yeah, I have!” Ron said indignantly, gathering up his things and shoving his half-finished essay into his bag.
How many times had those two had the exact same argument? Ginny tried to giggle as she usually did during these squabbles, but her laughter was stilled as she glanced at Harry. His mouth was stretched in a very forced looking grin and his eyes were not focused on his friends, but rather at some point over their heads.
Ginny stared at him a moment. Ever since last year, nothing had been the same. Harry grew more and more introverted as the days passed, and for the life of her, Ginny could not figure out what was wrong. Sirius was dead, yes. The passing of Sirius had taken a huge toll on Harry, but there was something else. Something he was hiding. Ron, Hermione and Ginny often discussed this in Harry’s absence, but thus far, nothing had been revealed.
The bell rang, signaling the students to report to their first class. Ginny bid her friends farewell and made tracks for the dungeons. Most of the fifth years were already seated at their tables. Colin Creevey waved to Ginny as she approached. She nodded to her friend, tossed her bag down, and threw herself into the seat next to him.
“Hey Gin, how’s it going?” perky and pleasant as he always was, Colin smiled, despite his classmates’ Monday morning blues. Ginny shrugged.
“I’m okay, I guess.” She opened her mouth to say more, but she was interrupted by the arrival of Snape.
“Today you will make a Strengthening Solution. Instructions are on the board. Turn in your potion at the end class.” It was later in the day, during potions. Snape barked out his usual instructions and the students set to work.
A quarter of an hour later, Colin nudged Ginny.
“What?” Ginny said, jerking out of her daydream. Colin motioned to the board, than to her cauldron.
“Are you going to get started, Gin?” Colin smiled, but Ginny gasped at the sudden realization that she had yet to begin her potion. Scrambling, Ginny dumped in the ingredients in quick succession with little or no regard to the proper measurements. She stirred feverishly, interrupted by an ominous voice.
“Weasley,” It was Snape. He carefully inspected her potion before glaring at her down his hooked nose. “What is this?” Ginny didn’t answer.
“Is this your Strengthening Solution?” She gave Snape something between a nod and a shrug.
“You do realize, Weasley, that this is your OWL year?” He spoke in a patronizing voice, as though Ginny might be too slow to understand him. She glared right back into the professor’s cold black eyes.
“Yes, I realize that.” She spat through gritted teeth, trying to keep the anger out of her voice and failing miserably.
“That’s a start, I suppose,” Snape said contemptuously, “You must also know that you have been making D’s and P’s all term.” The Slytherins sniggered stupidly. “I think, Weasley that I shall assign you a tutor.” Ginny cringed.
“Yes, I think I have a student quite willing to teach you.” Snape turned and swept past Ginny’s table, but she saw him smirked in such a twisted satisfied fashion that she was inclined to ask:
“And what student would that be, sir?” she exaggerated the ‘sir’ unnecessarily in her resentment. Professor Snape looked back, sneering malevolently.
“Draco Malfoy.”
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The Gryffindor Common Room had a gloomy atmosphere to it that night. Rom and Hermione played a half-hearted game of chess while Ginny worked on her Charms. She had not told them about Snape assigning Malfoy as her tutor. Ginny was trying to find an opportune moment to break the news.
Harry wasn’t there. He was upstairs. He had said that he wanted to turn in early, that he was just tired. Harry was almost always ‘just tired’. None of his friends were fooled by his excuse.
Tonight, however, Harry actually did fall asleep. It was not the comfortable, dreamless sleep he would have preferred; quite the contrary. Another vision was forcing its way through Harry’s subconscious and, whether it was a true event or one of Voldemort’s fabrications, Harry watched.
Voldemort sat in a tall black chair, his spider-like hands resting on the armrests. Before him knelt Lucius Malfoy in his Death Eater robes.
“The boy, he knows the plan then, Lucius?” Voldemort’s high chilling voice rang through the dark room.
“Yes, my Lord, he knows what to do.” Lucius confirmed. Voldemort was pleased.
“Excellent. This will move things along quicker. Should your son succeed he shall be greatly honored.” Voldemort’s eyes narrowed, “Now, what can you tell me about this girl?” Lucius cleared his throat to speak.
“She will be easy enough to ensnare. Silly girl. Potter and the girl’s family would do anything for her safety.”
“She seems strong-willed.” Voldemort commented, slightly concerned.
“She’s nothing.” Lucius answered, “This is the girl who opened the Chamber of Secrets. She’s a perfect choice.”
Silence fell between the Dark wizards, until finally Voldemort said;
“Be sure to tell your son to start moving. That will be all.”
“Yes, my Lord.” Malfoy bowed.
The dream blurred to darkness and the next thing Harry knew, he was laying on his four poster, shaken. Grabbing his glasses from the nightstand, Harry sat up, his scar throbbing painfully. He covered his face in his hands, trying to rub the pain from his forehead.
The pain was not what bothered Harry. It was the dream. They had been talking about Ginny. Was it real? Was Ginny in danger? Was it just a trick? Should he take the bait? No. A voice in his head said very firmly. No. Remember what happened last time? He had fallen for these tricks before, and what had happened? Sirius was killed. A lump came to his throat as he thought of that night.
Harry shook his head. It wasn’t like anyone was being tortured in the dream. He wouldn’t tell anyone; he’d just leave it alone. But he would keep an eye on Ginny.