Ginny gasped for air as she awoke from a horrible dream. She looked around frantically in the dark and waited in horror for her eyes to adjust and find the perimeter of her bed and the curtains surrounding her. She placed a hand on her comforter for support as she caught her breath.
In the dream, she had been running from a Death Eater, down a long narrow path, with tall surrounds on either side. She had felt trapped and enclosed. She closed her eyes to try and remember more about the dream. It was slipping from her memory quickly. She had been in Hogwarts when the dream started…and she had been looking for something…but what, and why? In the dream she had been so certain of what she was looking for, and her purpose had been so clear; but, now…everything was melting away.
She sighed in frustration before pulling back the curtains to her four poster and walking down to the Common Room. She sat in the chair closest to the burning embers of the fireplace. She missed Harry. Her bad dreams had seemed so less extreme when Harry was around; when they broke up, they came back in full force.
Harry had been in her dream, she remembered suddenly. He had told her…something about leaving it to him. It wasn’t her responsibility. Ginny put a hand to her forehead, willing the memory of the dream to surface. He was angry because she wouldn’t back down…and she was angry because she knew she had to…had to…
“Damn!” Ginny swore out loud. She hated not remembering the dreams. She sighed heavily and pointed her wand back towards her dormitory, “Accio Pensieve.” The basin that Dumbledore had given her soared down the stairs and landed on the table in front of her. She shook her head, angry that the only thing she could place in it was the shaky memory of a dream where she was frustrated with Harry and he mad at her. After pulling a few faint threads from her temple and placing them into the water, she snuggled lower into the chair and breathed heavily, another school day would start in a few hours, and she knew that once again, she would be spending it trying to remember the dream and thinking about what mortal danger Harry, Ron and Hermione were in.
“Ron!” Hermione shoved his shoulder and he grunted as he awoke, scolded.
“I vote yes,” he said stupidly, wiping drool off his face.
Harry laughed weakly and Hermione shook her head. “Get up and get dressed, we’re leaving.”
Ron looked at Harry who gave his friend a short nod. “Harry’s not dressed yet,” he argued like a little boy, standing up he stretched and looked around. “And we’re not even close to being packed…and what’s the rush?”
“If you had stayed awake, you’d know,” Hermione said shortly.
“Well if we would have slept last night like normal people, I wouldn’t be falling asleep!” Harry stood up and wavered slightly. “See,” Ron pointed to Harry, “even Harry is tired. We should take naps before we pack up and leave.”
Hermione was becoming impatient. “Harry isn’t tired, you idiot. He is exhausted from draining his magical energy working on wandless magic!”
“When he should have been sleeping!” Ron threw up his hands, amazed that Hermione couldn’t see his point.
“Listen,” she said, taking a deep breath to calm herself. “Since you were sleeping,” she said with great effort to suppress her annoyance, “when we made this game plan, I’ll catch you up. You and I are going to get a head start; we’re going to Grimmauld Place to make use of the library there. We need to get as much information as we can about wandless magic. This very well could be what Harry needs to beat You-Know-Who. Harry is going to meet up with us later tonight or tomorrow, depending on when he starts to feel like he has enough energy to Apparate.”
“We shouldn’t separate. What if something happens?” Ron said, becoming concerned.
Harry shook his head. “It’ll be fine, mate. I’m not going to venture out of the protective spells around camp, and I’m only going to be a day behind you guys. Hermione’s right, if this wandless magic stuff turns out right, it could give me an edge in the final battle. We need as much information as soon as possible.”
It took some convincing, but a few hours later, Harry was waving Hermione and Ron goodbye. He turned back into the tent when he saw them leave the boundaries of the perimeter enchantments, and knowing alarms would sound if they tried to come back, walked resolutely into the tent, with perfect intentions in mind.
Harry pulled Dumbledore’s Pensieve towards him. McGonagall had given the Pensieve to Harry the day after Dumbledore’s funeral, telling him that Dumbledore had made it clear Harry should have it. Together with Ron and Hermione, they had been sifting blindly through Dumbledore’s memories, trying to make sense of a lifetime of knowledge. Harry had been waiting for the perfect chance to dive into the basin with the sole purpose of finding some memories of his parents; he had at least twenty-four hours, Ron and Hermione free, to do so. He wasn’t sure how he’d be able to do it because they had yet to figure out the way the memories were organized.
Harry leaned over the basin and gasped when the face of Dumbledore swam into view. “Hello, Harry. Yes, I’m sure you’re quite shocked. I am, of course, still very dead.”
“Professor…” Harry breathed, leaning forward in amazement. All the times Ron, Hermione, and he had looked into the Pensieve, Dumbledore’s face never had appeared.
“I know you have many questions. I can only speak to you of the past. I have no recollection of what has happened since the last time I used this Pensieve. So it is useless to ask me anything of the sort. I am here as a guide. My sole purpose is not to answer your questions, but to bring you to the memories that are connected to them…no easy task. I do hope, however, that I can assist you in your search for the answers you’re looking for. The only thing I ask…what did I want more than anything in the world?” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. Harry was beyond speechless. Here was the face of Dumbledore, looking at him, waiting for him to communicate.
“Socks.” Harry smiled, still in awe at seeing Dumbledore.
The fifth time Harry fell back into his chair after diving into a memory from the Pensieve he was breathing heavier. “Professor…” he asked uncertainly.
“Yes, Harry,” Dumbledore answered promptly. “Would you like to see another conversation I had with Sirius?”
Harry shook his head no. The first few memories he had asked for were ones Dumbledore had of his parents and Sirius. Fond memories, he had asked. But, there was something in the last memory that made something prickle the hairs on his arm. Something he had never thought about before…something that chilled him to his bone.
“No. In that last memory…when Sirius was leaving the office…did I see Ginny waiting outside?” Harry asked the question, but knew the answer already. He couldn’t mistake that long fiery hair.
“I can not answer questions, Harry,” Dumbledore reiterated. “I can only guide…”
“But…but the memory was cut off. If you had allowed me to stay in that one, I would have seen what Ginny was doing waiting for you.”
Dumbledore nodded. “Perhaps. Memories are continuous. It is hard to decide when one should end and another begin. You asked for a memory I had of Sirius. I brought you to that memory, your fourth year…he was so worried about you in the Triwizard Tournament. I remember fondly his office visits, where his concern for you, his love for you, shone brightest.”
Harry bit his tongue, pushing away the sentiments, trying to stay on track. “Guide me to the memory of Ginny in your office,” Harry said.
Dumbledore thought for a moment, like he always did as he worked to find the memories Harry asked for. “There are many, Harry,” he said quietly. “There isn’t just ‘the’ memory.”
“Okay, to the memory you have of Ginny in your office her third year,” Harry said, being more specific, the anticipation taking over him…slowly the realization was caving in on him…he knew what Dumbledore would say next.
“There are many here, Harry.”
“Why? What was she coming to your office for? Students rarely come to your office!” He blurted out.
“Which memory would you like to view, Harry?” Dumbledore asked, ignoring his questions.
“Any of them, show me a memory of Ginny in your office, her third year, where she was…upset.” He thought wildly, Ginny being upset in his office would bring the most information to light.
“There are many…”
“Most upset!” Harry yelled. He couldn’t take it anymore. Why did Dumbledore have so many memories of Ginny being upset, meeting with him in his office? He nearly dove into the basin when he saw the water begin to ripple, signifying he could enter the memory.
“Hello, Ms. Weasley.” Dumbledore smiled, sitting in his chair. Harry, stood on the other side of the desk, and watched as Ginny approached the visitors’ chair, taking a seat like it was a normal occurrence, her being in his office. “Our next meeting isn’t scheduled until…”
“I know. But…last night…” Her voice faltered. Harry stared at the thirteen year old Ginny, cursing himself for not noticing her sooner.
Dumbledore waved his wand and a cup of hot chocolate appeared. She took it willingly. “Go on.”
“Last night I had another dream about the Chamber of Secrets…but it was different than the others.” Harry braced himself against Dumbledore’s desk. Of course she had dreams about the chamber. He thought to himself. How could he have been so selfish…so naïve to have never asked her about it? His ears were ringing. Ginny’s ordeal that night had been looked over by him so easily. Why wouldn’t she have had troubles with her memories of it? He went off to live with the Dursley’s when she had to suffer through a summer of getting over being possessed by Lord Voldemort.
He, of course, had been possessed by Lord Voldemort too…but not in the same way. Ginny’s was over a full school year, and she poured her soul into his…Harry had known to fight.
“Different than the others how?” Dumbledore asked nicely.
“I’ve been telling you about these dreams for two years now. They follow mostly along the same lines…I mostly dream about what I wrote to him…and what he’d say back to me through the diary…not important stuff…” Ginny added.
Dumbledore frowned. “More helpful than I can tell you right now, Ms. Weasley.”
“Well, it seems useless to me. But, this dream…I never remembered before…but…I, before Harry came, was still awake in the chamber.” Harry yelled ‘what’ out loud; luckily he was just an observer to the memory. Dumbledore shifted uncharacteristically in his chair before nodding for her to continue. “Tom possessed me…I vaguely remember writing the message on the wall, I’ve told you about that from other dreams. This time, I talked to him. About how it all happened and I don’t know if what he was saying was what he actually said to me down there, or if it was what I was told afterward.”
Dumbledore leaned forward and said, a little too eagerly, “What did he say?” Harry knew now, for certain, the reason Ginny was in his office speaking to him about this, and not any other counselor, was because Dumbledore knew Ginny could have precious information that could give clues to Tom’s past. Harry’s stomach plummeted as he realized how irreversibly deep Ginny was in this war. Forget her connections, to her family, to him…she was directly involved, and had been since the near beginning.
“He spoke about how he opened it the first time…the scariest part was how he talked about Myrtle. How good it felt to watch someone die…” Her voice cracked. “How she was the first person he killed…how important a death it was to him…” At these words Harry spun around to see Dumbledore’s reaction, and as he thought, he saw his eyes widen in understanding.
Harry knew the diary was a Horocrux because Dumbledore had told him so last year…but how did Dumbledore know? Was it because of this conversation he was watching now?
Ginny scrunched her eyes, trying hard to remember his exact words. “He…he tried to explain the reason he killed her. Something about his soul never being the same…he wanted me to understand her importance…it was his first murder…the first time his soul was…was…it’s hard to remember everything…so much happened…” Ginny’s eyes began to water.
“Its okay, Ginny,” Dumbledore said quietly. Harry couldn’t believe it. Without knowing it, Ginny had just told Dumbledore that the first Horcrux Voldemort made was in the chamber with the death of Myrtle.
“I know, the worst part, though…Tom kept telling me that my death was going to be more important than Myrtle’s. My death was bringing Harry to him…he wants to kill him so bad…” Ginny was sobbing now. Harry desperately wanted to wrap her in his arms…make her pain go away. Dumbledore was by her side, patting her back, as Harry watched helplessly.
“That won’t happen.” Dumbledore said it with such truth and conviction…Harry was surprised he’d say something he couldn’t be sure of.
Ginny continued to sob. “I can’t take it! Listening to Tom in these dreams…watching final battles between him and Harry…watching Harry tortured and killed! They are never good! The war never ends right!” She was absolutely distraught. Harry saw now why this was the memory where Ginny was the most upset in his office. “Make them stop. Give me a sleeping draught!” Ginny begged.
“Yeah, give her a sleeping draught!” Harry said pointlessly to Dumbledore. He became angry when he saw Dumbledore sigh heavily.
“Ginny…I’ve told you how important this information you are able to give me is…” he said.
“Yeah, but not why, two years I’ve been telling you stuff that seems so unimportant. I’m trustworthy am I not? Why can’t…”
“Ms. Weasley,” Dumbledore interrupted her. “I of course will tell you when it is time. But I don’t think it wise to share the whole truth now.” Harry scoffed, the same speech he had been given.
Ginny shrugged and continued to talk as a new wave of emotion came over her. “And…and now Harry is in this tournament! This is a plot! I know it!” Harry was shocked at how accurate she became yelling through her tears as Dumbledore tried to calm her. “Tom is back…Voldemort is coming back because he wants to kill Harry! He’ll do whatever it takes…this whole tournament is a set-up to trap Harry…my dreams…they always…always end bad…people dying…Krum, Cedric, Fleur…they’ve all died…one of these tasks…mark my words…it needs to stop. Dumbledore, stop it before it happens. Stop the tournament before Harry is murdered!”
“We don’t know why Harry is in the tournament,” Dumbledore said quietly.
“I’m telling you now! The dreams I’ve had…you can’t honestly say they aren’t prophetic!” Harry’s head snapped to her so fast he got a crick. He understood reasons for the dreams of the chamber….or dreams of anxiety of the tournament, but prophetic?
“Some of your dreams are…most are not. We need to understand them further to see which are which. Now, Ms. Weasley, I know I am cutting this short…but I must. If you have nothing else to share…please understand, and know we will continue this again…” he said softly, standing up. She nodded and rubbed her red nose against the sleeve of her robes.
“I’m sorry I’ve lost it again…crying and yelling…honestly,” she whispered to herself. Dumbledore just smiled and watched her exit his office. He immediately brought his wand to his forehead and began pulling white strands out of his temple, tossing them into the Pensieve. Harry felt his stomach flip and he was suddenly in the tent again.