Chapter 8: Thunderclouds Rend the Air
Shaky from lack of sleep and lightheaded with hunger, Ginny kept one hand on the wall for support as she headed to breakfast. She wanted to find Neville, but needed to eat something before braving the climb to Gryffindor tower to look for him.
Harry was leaning against the base of a statue outside the Great Hall, head turned toward the stairs as if he waited for someone. Still, he noticed the direction she came from and an expression of disapproval crossed his features. "You've been out all night, then."
Ginny rubbed her eyes. "Have you seen Neville?"
"He's packing his things for holiday. He didn't seem too happy with his trunk, for some reason. Where have you been?" Harry nearly spat the last.
"Cho killed Trevor," Ginny continued, unable to stop a splitting yawn, "and it's solstice."
Harry paled. "Cho... You're wrong." Was that disappointment or disbelief? Harry straightened up. "Give me my cloak. Maybe I can get into the Ravenclaw common room, find out what's going on."
Ginny started to pull it from her pocket as Harry pulled her around the side of the statue, shielding her movement from view and opening his robes. He was tucking the cloak underneath when Ron appeared at the bottom of the stairs and Draco exited the Great Hall.
For a moment, no one moved except Harry, who was still fumbling with the cloak. Something in Ginny's bleary-eyed expression as she gazed over his shoulder prompted him to turn around.
Draco strolled forward.
"Sod off, Malfoy," Harry began, breaking his usual pattern of allowing Malfoy first blood.
"You should find someplace more private, Potter." Draco spat Harry's last name as if it left a vile taste in his mouth. "That way you won't have to explain to her brothers, although even a girl like you ought to be able to take them with one hand tied behind your back." He frowned at Ginny, not meeting her eyes, and stomped toward the dungeons.
"Harry," Ron finally said, scandalized. "And you, Ginny, right here in the hallway! What were you two doing? Wait, I don't want to know."
Ginny stepped out from behind Harry, her temper pricked. "I was giving him back his Invisibility Cloak."
Ron looked to Harry. "What's she doing with it? You let her go around with something dangerous like that? She could have been doing anything!" Ron turned to go back up the stairs, but students were pouring into the entrance from all directions dragging trunks and cages with them. He settled for striding outside rapidly.
'Ron, wait," Harry called, following him at a run.
Sighing, Ginny rubbed her face and stumbled in to breakfast. Everything would have to wait until she had eaten.
***
Harry and Draco were standing side by side at the foot of her bed. They each were dressed in black robes and they each wore the same knowing, slightly amused expression. At the same time, they both raised their hands, palms together, to lean chins on their own fingertips.
"Well, Ginny?" they said in unison.
"You'll have to choose, sooner or later," Harry said.
Draco nodded. "Pick one, for good or ill. Tempus fugit, and so must you."
She couldn't move. The blankets were too heavy. Nothing came out of her mouth when she tried to explain why the grass was so blue and the sky was so red, or why it terrified her so.
"All right, then." The two boys exchanged a mischievous look and stepped sideways toward each other, their figures blurring into one form.
***
The dormitories were eerily quiet when Ginny woke up. She didn't remember going to bed, and she was always bothered when she couldn't remember doing things. Too much like first year. It was certainly too late to find Neville now.
A soft rap on the door forced her to leave the warm cocoon of the covers. George was waiting in the hall.
"Going like that?" He raised his eyebrows at her pajamas. "You'll be an icicle before we get there."
Ginny left the door open and crawled back into bed. "Going where like what?"
"Bill's." George wandered a few paces into the room. "C'mon, Gin, time to go. You're not ill, are you? Mum will make such a fuss."
"Why are we going to Bill's? Why doesn't he come here? It's easier," Ginny grumbled from under the counterpane.
"Charlie's downstairs."
"You're making that up. Did Fred tell you about last night?"
"No, really," George said, laughing. "And yes, about Fred. Smashing, Ginny. We'll get back at you eventually, though."
Ginny popped out of bed. "Get out so I can dress!" Clothing flew in all directions as she rummaged through her things.
In a few minutes, she was bounding down the stairs to the common room. "Charlie!" she yelled, jumping into his arms and nearly knocking him into the fire.
He caught her up and spun her around in a ferocious hug. "How's my favorite sister? Ready to go?"
"Why?" Ginny saw that the twins and Ron, Harry, and Hermione had all assembled by the portrait hole and were wearing winter things.
"We're having an early Christmas at Bill's. Didn't you know? Mum said she wrote Ron, and that you all knew." He seemed genuinely surprised.
Ginny looked over at Ron, who had a guilty expression on his face. "Do I ever know? Just give me a moment." She ran upstairs, gathering a number of vials and her cloak.
An hour later, Ginny was splashing lazily in Bill's bath. The Hogsmeade cottage was bursting at the seams with the entire Weasley family, Harry, Hermione, Hagrid, and Fleur Delacour. In the Weasley tradition the family had exchanged presents that were generally of the homemade variety. As she had for the past several years, Ginny gave vials of a simple Warming Potion (the cinnamon-chocolate flavor perfect for a cold day) and she had received an uninterrupted block of bath time from Bill.
Fleur had cornered Charlie shortly after they had arrived, and Ginny, unable to withstand a description of Percy's latest cause (the regulation of scoop sizes for measuring beetle eyes) and unable to penetrate the whispering huddle of Ron, Harry and Hermione, had retreated to claim her present and filled the clawfoot tub that was wedged into a small enclosure of its own.
A cloud of steam wafted toward the ceiling, and Ginny sluiced water over her shoulders. Her small dragon tattoo snorted a cloud of bubbles across her skin in protest before curling back up into its resting state. She ran a finger over it, watching it stretch and look around in response. She pondered her skin for a moment: the freckles from her family, the tattoo on her back that she had picked from the official Dragonriders Society list, the animated one at her collarbone that indicated she had joined their ranks. It was odd to think that the one mark she had chosen for herself was the one that she couldn't see.
After draining the tub and giving a half-hearted swipe at the ring she left behind, Ginny wandered down the hallway. A savory, spicy fragrance wafted from the back of the cottage. Perhaps that wonderful smell was dinner. Ginny made a beeline for the kitchen.
"And then, what do I see but Ginny, unlocking all of the cages. We're half out the door, and she's worried about lab rats! Morwood had to Memory Charm them all over again. It was all over the local newspapers, but they blamed it on a Muggle animal protection group and the group took credit." Charlie smiled as Fleur covered her mouth to stifle a giggle at his tale.
Hagrid reached over to fluff Ginny's hair as she came into the kitchen. "Charlie here says yeh have a care for more'n dragons, lass. And that yer not half bad at workin' with dragons, either."
In contrast, her mother wore a disapproving look. "I can't believe you would take her along on a raid! Couldn't you have just Summoned the eggs?"
Charlie turned slightly pink at the way his mother was scolding him in front of Fleur. "Don't get your hair in a knot, Mum. The windows were made of some sort of unbreakable glass, and the scientists think that our research facility houses an environmental studies group so they let us in for a tour. We got the eggs out before the Muggles could figure out what they were and Ginny was never in any danger."
Molly waved her finger under his nose. "Letting her ride dragons wasn't dangerous? If I had known that she would have been doing anything more dangerous than shoveling dragon droppings last summer I never would have let her out of my sight! Merlin knows what else you let her get away with."
"Mum, I hardly did anything dangerous. Most of the time it was shoveling dragon dung, or cooking meals, or patching up the injured." Ginny looked to Charlie for help.
"And a fine magical cook she is, too. Give her a bit of chocolate and she can make you anything from bouillabaisse to quiche," Charlie added.
Fleur caught on. "You are making bouillabaisse? My grandmuzzer is making it always for me. Show how it is done, sil vous plait."
"Oh, there isn't time now," Molly said, looking with surprise at the clock. "Dinner's nearly ready, and some of the boys have to leave right after."
"We'll set the table," Charlie said, pulling Ginny toward the next room where Bill was setting up the folding tables he had rented from Madam Rosmerta.
"Thanks," Ginny mouthed to Fleur, and after a second she grabbed her hand and tugged her along to help with the preparations.
In a few minutes, family and friends were crowded around the table eating turkey and offering around the Brussels sprouts to avoid having to take any themselves. Ginny was wedged between Percy and Hermione near one end of the table and spent half of dinner trying to make sense of their political conversation; the other half she spent trying not to spill anything in her lap because Percy would jostle her elbow when he got excited. All too soon, Percy Apparated from the table and Charlie was saying his goodbyes. Ginny slipped out through the kitchen and ran around the cottage to meet him at the front gate.
"Charlie, can't you stay a little longer?" Ginny buried her face in the lapel of his leather jacket. Breathing in the faint scent of dragonhide and aftershave reminded her of card games at twilight in Romania.
"I've got some Fireballs due to hatch any time now, Gin. You know I've got to be there, because it's too late to move them." He squeezed her tightly. "I'll send you some pictures in June for your birthday. I have some Opaleye-Fireball eggs, and if my calculations are right they'll be ready to hatch 'round then, too. Now, off you go so I can Apparate."
Ginny gave him an amused frown and retreated to the cottage door, waiting for Charlie to disappear with a pop into the winter air.
"All right, you know I'll have to stop at least four times and take a broom over the Channel." Charlie grinned and scooped a handful of snow in her direction, which Ginny ducked, giggling. His failure to pass the test for an Apparating license on the first go-round was a family joke. "For your boots. Happy Christmas." He tossed her a tin of dragonhide leather polish and disappeared.
***
Lucius poured the wine into the goblet carefully. The fire was too low to really give sufficient light to the task, but he had been waved away when he called for an elf to turn up the lamps. The blood-red liquid alternately glowed and dimmed as Voldemort's shadow swept across it.
Gathering his wits close about him, Lucius stepped into the path of his master's pacing. "Please, won't you sit down?" He offered the goblet, and to his relief Voldemort took it and seated himself in one of the high-backed chairs that were placed together near the fire.
Lucius didn't pour any wine for himself. Later, he would drink whisky. Now, though, he had enough trouble keeping a clear head. A million questions buzzed through his mind. He wasn't sure that he wanted most of them answered. "My lord," he began.
Voldemort drained the wineglass and threw it against the mantelpiece, where it shattered and sent shards onto the marble slab below. "I gave you everything you needed. A woman you needed. All you had to do was teach him what was needed. Instead, he is an incompetent fool who sends letters whining about his Quidditch team, while Zabini's daughter sends useful things like lists of Hogwarts students. "
"My lord, he will do better," Lucius claimed, feeling a dangerous urge to beg forgiveness. "However, I should point out that Zabini passed the information to Pettigrew, who gave it to Bulstrode, who shared it with his offspring, and we've already seen the consequences."
"Potter was fine, luckily. After all, he is mine." Voldemort began to twirl his wand between his fingers idly. "I rather thought you would have liked the Howlers, Lucius. It reminds me of old times. You and Millicent Bulstrode have similar tastes for mischief. Am I to believe that you are jealous of a mere child?"
"Of course not," Lucius said, tamping down the envious rage inside his stomach. His voice was louder than he would have liked. "She can hide at Durmstrang, or in a dozen different countries because their Ministries won't cooperate with any requests for extradition now that you have half of their members in your thrall. She had a single idea, which I'm sure showed Dumbledore exactly how ill-protected he really is and certainly has spurred him to correct any weaknesses. The Bulstrode bint has done nothing more than pledge her allegiance, and inadvertently assisted the enemy."
"Exactly," whispered Voldemort.
Color rose in Lucius's cheeks. "My lord, I --"
"Where are the cunning plans?" Voldemort leaned forward, so close that Lucius could smell the wine on his breath. "You claim you still serve me. I'm waiting to see the evidence."
***
The last wizard crackers had been pulled and the last of the dishes cleared away, but no one had left the Great Hall. A fair number of students had stayed for the holidays, and a few parents who had recently taken up residence in Hogsmeade joined their children for the Hogwarts Christmas feast at Dumbledore's invitation.
Bill convinced his parents to stay with him a few extra days to attend, and Arthur had cornered Professor Perks for a chat about electric razors. The twins were plotting together at an empty table, and Harry and Ron played a game of wizard chess while Hermione and Susan Bones looked on. Scattered groups of students and parents drank mugs of chocolate or groaned that they couldn't possibly have more of anything. Molly kept Ginny close to her side from the first moment she arrived for dinner, and it was only after introducing her to Pramita Kumar's mother that Ginny was able to slip out, excusing herself as unobtrusively as possible while the ladies chattered away.
Ginny had been surprised to see Draco sit down with a group of younger Slytherins for the feast, but had not been surprised that he had gone to brood by himself at a fire as soon as it could have been considered polite to do so. She kept her eyes forward and her voice low as she walked past him. "Meet me by the lake in five minutes."
Once out of the hall, she sprinted up to her dormitory and removed the concealment charms from what Molly thought was Percy's sweater and an old skirt; the trousers and dragonhide boots that she had shoveled dragon dung in for half the summer would be more practical for what she was planning. She pulled on her gloves, scarf, and cloak while she checked the mirror to make sure her plaits were firmly fastened around her head.
"If you go out dressed like that, someone might think you're up to something," the mirror noted.
"Quiet, you," Ginny replied, hurrying back down to where her broom was still resting on a windowsill in the common room. She climbed onto the sill and flew out into the cold night air.
The moon was a blurry smear behind a thin layer of clouds. It had stopped snowing, and the air wasn't as bracing as it had been during the last few days. Ginny hid herself behind a drift of snow near the edge of the lake. The wait for Draco wasn't as long as she expected. His progress through the snow was methodical and slow, which gave her plenty of time to shape, aim, and launch the snowball that shattered into a fluffy cloud against his shoulder.
"Ginny?" Draco glared around at the snow, not quite finding her. "What do you want? It's cold and I'm tired." He swatted away a snowball before it could hit his face and caught another one-handed as if it was a Snitch.
Draco tramped forward and over Ginny's snowdrift. She sprang up from her crouch and knocked Draco sideways into the snow. "What I want," she said, sweeping fans of snow over him with her broom, "is for you to stop sulking that you're not home with your father for the holiday. It's Christmas."
"That's not what I'm sulking about," Draco said, then his eyes widened suddenly. He sat up and threw a chunk of snow at Ginny. "And I'm not sulking!"
"You are."
"No, I'm not." Draco stood up to shake the snow from his robes with a frown.
"Fine, go back to your sulking because it's more fun than being out here with me." Ginny turned her nose up and crossed her arms. "Well? Go on."
Draco rolled his eyes, and finally sighed dramatically. "Oh, all right, I'll stay out here until Potter comes. But only to make sure you don't freeze to death."
Ginny suppressed a grin. "Promise? Until Harry comes?"
"Yes." Draco wrapped his robes tighter, frowning. "And let's not play in the snow anymore. I don't want to turn into an icicle."
"A little snowball fight would warm you right up. Or you could have your Christmas present." Ginny handed him a glass vial. "Warming Potion. Happy Christmas."
"I didn't get you a present," Draco muttered, rolling the vial between his palms.
Ginny thought a moment. "Yes, you did. You went ice skating with me."
"When did I do that?" Draco put the vial in his pocket, surprised.
"Right now, " Ginny said, sticking her broom into the snow and stepping gingerly onto the ice-covered lake. "C'mon." Ignoring Draco's doubtful expression she linked an arm under his and began to slide her feet forward.
"Wait. Wait," Draco demanded, as his feet skidded in opposite directions. Ginny grasped his arm tighter and forced him to skate clumsily beside her across the lake. His protests tapered off as his skill increased, though, and by the time they reached the middle he was shuffling along with only the occasional wobble. "I don't see how this is any more fun than just walking," he said just before his feet went out from under him.
Ginny couldn't keep from laughing at Draco as he spun around on his back. He glared at her, but she only laughed harder. Without any warning, she too fell down and landed hard.
Suddenly, Draco chuckled. Ginny stopped laughing in surprise, and his chuckles turned into a chortle and then a wheezing, almost hysterical cackle. "Are you laughing at me?" she ventured tentatively.
"I- I'm laughing because I sneaked out of Hogwarts at Christmas to go ice skating with a Weasley, ha, and I'll probably get caught and get a detention and your boyfriend will mwa ha come after me and we'll fight, ha, and all I'll ha-ha-have to show for it will be the enormous bruise on my arse." He gripped his side, gasping for breath.
"Harry's not my boyfriend," Ginny said quietly.
"Not?" Draco wheezed. His hysterics subsided. "What was that about by the statue with him, then?"
"I'm not telling," she said. "It wasn't what it looked like and besides, it's none of your business."
"Maybe not, but it certainly looked like --"
Ginny slapped a palm down on the ice. "I said, it's none--"
They were interrupted by a sharp cracking sound. Both of them realized that they had risked going too far over a lake that wasn't known for freezing at the same moment a watery gap appeared next to Ginny's hand.
"Don't move," Draco whispered, slowly reaching for his wand as the ice creaked. Ginny could see the ice beneath them gradually changing from opaque white to transparent as it thinned. Leafy green Lake Dragons swam past the widening crack, their body heat warming the water until steam vented up from the hole. "Accio broom."
Once Draco had Ginny's broom in his hand, he began to edge toward her. "No, wait," she said, as the increased pressure sent new fissures across the ice. Draco reached forward and grabbed her by the foot. Her boot came off in his hand, so he tossed it aside and grasped her ankle instead. Unfortunately, this had the effect of pulling him toward her instead of the other way around.
"Jump."
Ginny gave him an incredulous look. "I'm sitting down."
"Well, roll then!" Draco commanded. Ginny obeyed, trying to put as much distance between herself and the water as she could. One knee broke through the ice and it crumbled around her but she managed to scramble onto the thicker patch where Draco was already hovering an inch off the surface.
They took off just as a large chunk of ice was swallowed by the lake. "My shoe," Ginny gasped, as it sank into the dark water and was ripped apart by the Lake Dragons as if they believed it edible.
Draco circled over the water. "It's gone."
"It's only a thing. It's not important," she said, her shaky voice betraying the lie. "Let's go back. Be careful, my broom lists to the right." Ginny leaned her head against Draco's back, closing her eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to cry. Don't be silly. There will be other things. You're just emotional because you were foolish.
Any other night, a moonlit broom ride would have been romantic. Between a soggy cloak, a cold foot, the loss of the boot that Charlie had given her for her fourteenth birthday, and the fact that her impulsive decision to go out on the lake had nearly resulted in disaster, Ginny felt that it was lucky the ride was so short. Some other time, she would enjoy pressing her ear against Draco's back and listening to him swear about the quality of her broom while he fought its imperfect balance. Of course, there probably wouldn't be another time.
Draco found an open window and landed them safely inside the Astronomy Tower. "You should change your cloak," he said, when he got off the broom but Ginny simply stared at the floor, silent.
"And you should go back to the Great Hall. Get warmed up." Ginny gave Draco a defeated smile. He's safer there than he is with me. "Goodnight." As she had the last time they had been at the Astronomy Tower, Ginny flew off without looking back.
When Ginny reached Gryffindor Tower, she found that her common room window had been closed and latched. Balancing on her broom, she tried to slip her fingers under the frame and pry it open. Trying 'Alohomora' was of no use, as the window technically wasn't locked. She was examining the sill for gaps when she heard a sharp tap, which prompted her to move her fingers out of the way. The window swung open.
"It's lucky for you I'm not a prefect," Hermione was saying. "Really, if someone had seen you, Ginny, and it doesn't look good, whatever it is... please tell me it isn't what I think it is."
"It's nothing," Ginny said, putting her broom on the sill and closing the window. "I went for a walk." She kicked off her remaining shoe, tossed her cloak over a chair, and went to sit in front of the fire.
Hermione came to sit beside her. Ginny resigned herself to participating in some girl talk but before it could begin the common room was invaded by Ron, Harry, and the twins. Mildly relived, Ginny rose to go up to her room, but was stopped by the looks on the boys' faces.
"Bad news, Ginny," Fred said shakily.
George nodded, and put his arm around her. "There's been an attack. On the Ministry. And Percy--" His voice broke on the last word. "Percy was at work."
Fred came to lean against his twin, seeming to shore him up. "Mum and Dad and Bill went to see about it. Nobody knows anything yet, but they said they would Owl us as soon as there was any news."
"Percy's dead?" Ginny asked.
"I'm sure he can't be," said Fred, giving George a warning look. "I'm sure he'll be just fine. Why, he probably wasn't even in the building. Even Percy has to go home sometimes, right?"
"Right," George said finally, although he looked closer to tears than ever. At this, Ron walked away from them to sit in a corner, and Harry and Hermione pulled chairs close to comfort him.
After a minute of awkward silence, Ginny extracted herself from the twins. "I think I'd like to go lie down."
"All right," Fred said. "If you need anything, we'll be here."
Ginny scooped up her cloak and boot, and she tried not to hurry up the stairs. Once in her room, she leaned against the door, shaking. She'd probably alienated Draco with her impulsive, childish behavior. She'd nearly fallen into the lake and drowned. She'd thought that the Ministry was untouchable. She'd thought she'd never have to worry about missing Percy.
Her remaining boot was one of the few things Ginny could remember owning that had been hers from the beginning, not something shared or handed down. Suddenly angry, she ran to the window and threw her boot out as far as she could anyway, slamming the glass shut afterward. Without even bothering to undress she climbed into bed and allowed herself to cry.
***
Ginny woke up gasping for air. It was dark, and acrid smoke hung in the room. People were shouting and running up and down the stairs. Charlotte, Rosemary and Iris were home for the holidays, she remembered. She reached Pramita's bed, but it was empty. She must have gone to stay with her parents in Hogsmeade.
Keeping her head down, Ginny crawled to the door and placed her hand against it. It was cold, so she cautiously pulled it open. A wave of smoke nearly overpowered her as an explosion echoed in her ears.
"Ginny!" Fred yelled at her. He tossed a Dungbomb onto the floor and coughed happily as it exploded. George was there too, dancing a jig and waving a newspaper ineffectually at the smoke. Red-eyed but smiling, he held the front page under her nose.
ATTACK ON MINISTRY LINKED TO HOGWARTS
Last night's attack on the Ministry Headquarters may be linked to Hogwarts, an anonymous source revealed.
Reports of a loud noise or explosion were first recorded at the Daily Prophet around 8pm. Soon after, the Ministry Headquarters were seen to be on fire and a large part of the building collapsed.
An eyewitness claims that a train engine was seen speeding down Partisan Avenue just before the attack. Peter Weasley, a Ministry of Magic employee for the Department of International Magical Cooperation who was inside but avoided injury, was able to confirm that the engine collided with the front of the Ministry several times before continuing through the inside of the building.
Additionally, the Daily Prophet's source claims that the train was the Hogwarts Express, the mode of transport for underage students from London to Hogsmeade. Used exclusively by the school, the train is normally stored in a special location near Hogsmeade Station. "One would have to know the most secret details of the school to even be aware of the train's storage location. Even many of the staff members don't know where the train is kept," the source noted.
All through the night, emergency response teams and volunteers have been sifting through the rubble. Several survivors have been found, but are listed in critical condition at St. Mungo's Hospital. At least five bodies have been recovered. It is not believed that many more survivors or deceased persons will be located. At the time of the attack, most offices were closed for the observance of the Christmas holiday.
"This is a good thing?" she asked, squinting at the headline.
"Percy's all right!" Fred crowed happily.
"While that is wonderful news, you might tell us in a less fragrant fashion," Hermione said as she came out of her room, half-smiling and sleepy as she raised her wand and began to charm the smoke from the air.
"Want to come with us to tell Ron, Hermione?" George asked. Ginny thought Hermione looked pleased, but was trying to not to show it. As an afterthought, George turned to Ginny. "Do you want to come too?"
I don't think Ron would care if I came or not, she decided. "No, you go on. I need to get some real rest." Coughing the last of the smoke from her lungs, Ginny went to back to bed, a little happier and very relieved.
***
The holidays flew by, especially since Ginny slept through most of them. Except for
the occasional trip to the library she rarely left her room. Fred or George would bring her sandwiches sometimes, and she would eat them while huddling over her projects and papers.
In no time at all, she was back in a classroom with part of the Integrated Magic class, which more and more often met in small groups and then only to report back on their research. Today, Ginny shifted in her chair as Susan, Cho and Justin reported on the use of Transfiguration to hide entrances to the wizarding world. Justin had a set of pictures of the entrance to Rue de Chocolat in France, some on Muggle postcards and some on film developed magically by Colin Creevey. He pointed out the seeming absence of a shop entrance where one should be on the postcard and how the wizarding picture revealed the wrought-iron fence that opened onto the hidden street.
Professor McGonagall, while patient throughout the first demonstration, hurried Lavender and Hermione through the explanation of their project. Ginny stood a bit off to one side; she was happy to let the older girls take over the description of the rules of value permanence in Transfiguration. She'd helped with the essay, of course, but let Lavender and Hermione complete most of the research as recompense for giving her the less desirable task of providing an actual example.
"Which Ginny will show us now," Hermione was saying. Ginny snapped back to attention.
"Um," Ginny started, which earned her a glare from Hermione. Unsure how to go about it, and aware of the wary look she was receiving from Professor McGonagall, Ginny took off her robe. "The best way is just to show you, I suppose."
When Ginny's old skirt was transformed into the trousers and shirt she had worn all summer, Hermione let out a disgruntled gasp. "You can't do that, Ginny. It's impossible to do that. You can't make anything so much better, or more beautiful, or change its worth so much without using a great deal of Dark Magic."
Lavender laughed, startling Hermione. "She didn't." Hermione just looked puzzled now. Looking pleased to know more than Hermione for once, Lavender continued.
"She didn't make her clothes better. Those clothes are the real clothes, aren't they, Ginny?"
Ginny nodded, trying not to look at Hermione. Hermione so rarely erred in her application of knowledge that she must be furious with embarrassment over not knowing what one of her group members had planned.
"A friend of my brother's gave me the clothes this summer when I went to visit him in Romania. I didn't have anything to wear, and she offered me some clothing she had grown out of. Her Mum was a seamstress, so she knew how to link the clothes and helped me disguise the new with an illusion of my old ones. We decided to do it because we didn't think my Mum would like this outfit much." Ginny risked a glance at Hermione, who was shuffling through her notes. She couldn't think of anything to add, so she finished up quickly. "We decided to provide a reminder that there really isn't any way, outside of Dark Magic, to make something look better than it really does."
Hermione regained her composure at this, wrapping up by reiterating the key points of her earlier speech. She was handing the written portion to Professor McGonagall when Fleur Delacour entered the room. "Am I in time?" Fleur asked nervously.
"Just. Do you all remember Professor Delacour?" McGonagall asked the assembled group. The six students nodded. "Professor Delacour has studied some types of Transfiguration not taught at Hogwarts, and I thought that a brief lesson would be appropriate for reference purposes." Checking her watch, McGonagall stood up. "Don't forget that everyone will meet together on Friday to work on their Portkeys."
Fleur was more at ease after Professor McGonagall bustled out of the room. She smiled around at them. "Zis weel be easy, I think. You 'ave studied Switching Spells, yes?"
"We know about them," Hermione ventured, still not quite sure of herself. "They're more complicated sorts of Transfigurations. Two objects can be Transfigured at the same time to look like the other."
"Oui," Fleur clapped her hands. She lowered her voice. "It is not looked 'appily upon in England, but Professor McGonagall wishes you to see. Switching Spells can be used for people."
"Why not just use Polyjuice Potion?" Hermione asked, which earned her confused looks from the other students. "You know, a potion that has to be taken every hour, with a little bit of the person you want to look like in it, that changes you to look exactly like them."
Fleur considered a moment. "Zis is perhaps not so bad, then, if you are using that. Wiz Polyjuice Potion, you must be drinking it all ze time, and ze other person maybe does not know you do it. With the Switching Spell, it is 'arder and needs many people, because you cannot make it for yourself, but everyone is using their own decision."
"Do you mean their free will?" Justin asked, then asked again in French. He translated the exchange for the class. "She says that you must be willing, or it won't work."
"Let us 'ave some demonstration," Fleur decided. "First, you and you, sil vous plait." Cho and Hermione stood up. "Zis spell must be done by ze third person, moi. Ze uzzer two must agree wiz it, must 'ave free will." Cho and Hermione nodded agreement, and Fleur's face grew serious. She began to walk slowly around Cho and Hermione, chanting in a French like no other Ginny had ever heard and moving her wand in a graceful pattern. With a final swish and flick, she stood back to survey her handiwork.
Lavender, still bemused by the knowledge that she had known more than Hermione about something, blurted out, "Well, it's not very good, is it?" in a rather close imitation.
Ginny had to agree. Hermione's eyes had tilted up at the corners and gone dark. Her hair had darkened, too, and was much straighter. Her robes hung high above her ankles, because she had grown to Cho's height. Cho, on the other hand, had shrunk slightly and pushed a bushy mass of lighter hair out of her face. Their faces looked familiar, but neither girl was recognizable as herself or her opposite.
"Zat is because zey are not looking very much alike. Let me show again. Ginny, and you," she said, pointing to Susan. The two red-heads, already similar, stood facing each other as Fleur repeated the spell.
Very soon Ginny felt that she was looking in a mirror. There, on Susan, was her crown of plaits, her freckles, her chin. The only thing wrong was the look in her eye that was undeniably Susan instead. It is easy to look in a mirror when no one is watching, as it shows both good and bad. To look from the outside is to look at a picture, and to see it move is like hearing one's own recorded voice -- familiar, yet unsettlingly strange and distorted.
Suddenly and strongly, Ginny wanted to be herself, and a soft swishing noise marked the moment the enchantment ended. Susan looked surprised, then said, "I understand." Ginny thought that Susan didn't at all.
***
Now that classes had resumed, Ginny felt it would be safe enough to eat in the Great Hall. She would surround herself with boisterous Gryffindors and try hard not to notice that Draco didn't seek her out. She would also be careful to pay attention, she thought, after she bumped hard into Neville as he came around a corner.
"Careful there, Ginny," he said. Was it her imagination, or was he taller? No, he was simply standing straight for a change. Surprised, she fumbled with the book in her hand and lost her grip. With a graceful bend, Neville caught it before it could hit the floor and handed it back to her. "Thanks, by the way."
"For what?" Ginny asked, boggled at this Neville who seemed so clear-headed and confident. Neville used to be worse than even me at catching things.
"The Warming Potions you sent me for Christmas," he answered. "I didn't expect there to be so many, but they were so much better than the ones you usually make. Don't much care for cinnamon and chocolate together, myself. I've had one every day, just like you said to in your letter."
"What letter?" Ginny asked warily, her mind working frantically. Her face paled as she made the connection. "Neville, I'm sorry. You went off for the holiday before I could give you your potion. I didn't send anything."
"I did," said a voice from behind her.
Cho Chang waited a few steps down the hall, her silver knife in one hand.
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Draco and Ginny belong to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury, Scholastic, Warner Bros and various other corporations. They are being used here without permission and/or affiliation with the above. None of the authors listed here make any profit from these stories.