Chapter Sixteen: Nothing is Impossible
There was a moment of silence when they entered that must have had something to do with Ginny's Levitated figure. All the Weasleys were waiting in Dumbledore's office, it seemed, and there were even two unfamiliar red-headed people that must have been Bill and Charlie, Ginny's two oldest brothers. Also gathered in the office were Professor Dumbledore and the rest of the staff.
Mrs. Weasley appeared to have been crying, and as they walked in, she ran over to her daughter and shrieked in visible anguish, "Ginny!"
But Harry was looking past the distraught woman, the shaking family, and to Dumbledore, who was standing by the mantelpiece, no twinkle visible in his eyes.
Harry didn't need to be told; he knew what he had to do. It took awhile to recount the tale, with interruptions made by Theo and Hermione, and occasionally even Blaise. He told about hearing the disembodied voice, how they had finally realized he was hearing a basilisk in the pipes, how he and Theo had followed the spiders into the forest and what Aragog had told them, and ending with how he guessed that the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets was in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.
"But how did you get out alive when Ginny is dead?" Mrs. Weasley screamed.
Harry had never been so thankful that Blaise had taken over the explanation at that moment, describing how she had woken up and listened to Harry talking to Riddle, then the fight with the basilisk, describing how Harry had somehow transported his dagger to her so she could sneak up behind Riddle and finish him off.
"What interests me most," said Dumbledore gently, "is how Lord Voldemort managed to enchant Ginny and Blaise, when my sources tell me he is currently hiding in the forests of Albania."
"Wh-what's that?" Mr. Weasley said in a stunned voice. "You-Know-Who? En-enchant Ginny? But Ginny's not . . . Ginny hasn't been . . . has she?"
"It was this diary," said Blaise quietly, handing over the pieces of what had once been the little black book Harry had seen on the Chamber floor. At his questioning look, she said, "I picked it up and ripped it before we left."
Dumbledore took the diary from Blaise and peered keenly down at its ripped, yet pristine, pages.
"Brilliant," he said softly. "Of course, he was probably the most brilliant student Hogwarts has ever seen." He turned around to the Weasleys, who were looking utterly bewildered.
"Very few people know that Lord Voldemort was once called Tom Riddle. I taught him myself—fifty years ago—at Hogwarts. He disappeared after leaving the school . . . traveled far and wide . . . sank so deeply into the Dark Arts, consorted with the very worst of our kind, underwent so many dangerous, magical transformations, that when he resurfaced as Lord Voldemort, he was barely recognizable. Hardly anyone connected Lord Voldemort with the clever, handsome boy who was once Head Boy here."
"But Ginny—what did she have to do with him?" Mrs. Weasley sobbed.
Blaise answered, "She wrote in it. He would write back. You could tell him all of your deepest, darkest secrets, greatest desires, who was picking on you and when—and he would be sympathetic, he was kind. And eventually you sank so deeply in, poured so much of your soul into him, that you couldn't fight him back. He had complete control over you, and you never knew."
"Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain," Mr. Weasley whispered.
"I think Miss Zabini should go to the hospital wing. There will, of course, be a funeral service for Miss Weasley up at the school, but you can have your own. This has been a terrible ordeal for the both of them." When Blaise gave him a questioning look, he said, "There will be no punishment. Older and wiser witches have been hoodwinked by Lord Voldemort.
"Never fear, Miss Granger, you and Mr. Potter and Mr. Nott are not to be punished, either. In fact, I think it would be prudent if each of you receive Special Awards for Services to the School and—let me see—yes, I think one-hundred-and-fifty points apiece for Slytherin and Gryffindor.
"But one of us seems to be keeping mightily quiet about his part in this dangerous adventure. Why so modest, Gilderoy?"
"Professor Dumbledore," Hermione said quickly. "There was an accident down in the Chamber. Lockhart cast a Memory Charm on himself."
"Dear me," said Dumbledore, shaking his head, his long silver moustache quivering. "Impaled upon your own sword, Gilderoy!"
"Sword?" said Lockhart dimly. "Haven't got a sword."
"Would you mind taking Professor Lockhart up to the infirmary, Mr. Nott?" Dumbledore said to Ron. "Mr. Potter, you can accompany Miss Zabini. Now—"
Nearly Headless Nick burst into the office, quickly followed by the Bloody Baron. "Headmaster, you will never believe who we just saw wandering around in the halls!"
"Who, Sir Nicolas?"
At that moment another ghost floated into the room, and jaws dropped. Ginny, now not quite corporeal and glowing silver, was a ghost. Her hair, dark silver now, was framing her face, and she was still wearing her Hogwarts robes.
"Why, I do believe this is quite unbelievable!" Dumbledore said with a smile.
oOoOo
Blaise had gotten out of the hospital wing nearly a week ago, but she was still having nightmares. Because of the slightly addictive qualities of Dreamless Sleep potion, she could only take said potion once a week and was quite short on sleep.
(While accompanying Blaise to the infirmary, Harry had also been admitted, due to some scrape he had on his wrist and a gash on his thumb which he had somehow cut.)
The Weasleys were feeling slightly better about Harry and Blaise now, but it had little to do with their daughter returning as a ghost and more to do with the conversations they could have with their daughter, where she denied profusely that Harry and Blaise had anything whatsoever to do with her death.
Harry and Blaise were just now getting around to having their own chats with Ginny.
Blaise ran into the ghost-girl first. Harry didn't know the specifics of that conversation, but he did know that afterward Blaise's nightmares had reduced dramatically, and she was smiling and laughing more often.
It was two days afterward that Harry got to have his own talk with the girl.
"So, what's it like, being a ghost?" was Harry's first question.
"Well, I have a hard time remembering that I can't open doors, and that I can just float right through them. I have problems with the floating thing, too. I want to walk, but instead I float. Then there's that thing where you remember you can fly, but the Bloody Baron tells me that next year I'll be able to fly into the Great Hall after the first years are Sorted, which sounds like fun," Ginny answered.
"That does sound like fun. . . ."
"But what I'm really looking forward to are next year's pranks," Ginny continued with a grin.
"Pranks?" asked Harry.
"Of course! You don't really think I'm going to let my power of becoming invisible go to waste, do you?"
Ginny giggled at the look on Harry's face.
"Think about it. If I walk halfway through a wall and then you were to walk through me, you could walk through a wall as well."
"Really?" Harry asked, becoming intrigued.
"Yeah, and then there's the relatively simple pranks where I can sneak up behind people and suddenly yell 'Boo!' straight into their ear. . . ."
oOoOo
In accordance to Ginny's wishes, the Weasley family didn't hold a service at Hogwarts, but instead had a small one with only the family where they buried her on the side of their makeshift Quidditch pitch. Ginny wanted the whole of Hogwarts to feast, because, even though someone had died, all the Petrified people had been subjected to the Mandrake draught, and were now up and, literally, running. (Colin Creevey had had to run five laps around the lake before he calmed down to his natural perky state.)
What Ginny really wanted was for Hogwarts to celebrate, not mourn, the closing of the Chamber of Secrets. In her opinion it wasn't right to mourn for one person when so many other people's lives were saved.
The feast was an extravagant one for sure. There were mounds upon mounds of every flavor of treacle tart Harry could imagine, and Blaise had enough chocolate chip cupcakes to last her a lifetime. Theo, thinking no one was watching, pigged out on Peppermint Imps while Hermione (on the other side of the hall), caved in at seeing the pile of Toothflossing Stringmints. Malfoy even caved in at seeing the bowls of Ice Mice and Chocolate Frogs.
The best part came in a shower of sparkles. Fred and George (together with slight help from Harry and Blaise) had decided upon the best way to mourn Ginny's death, and after the end of the feast, yet before Dumbledore stood up to announce it, they stood up from their place at Gryffindor table and shouted out, "We love you, Ginny!" before releasing several fireworks into the air, which boomed and clapped and shattered before falling into words:
We Love You, Ginny!
The words were written in elegant loops and spirals, and it brought tears to Ginny's silver eyes.
And in that moment, Harry knew that even if Ginny had died, she was still with them, and that was more than they could have ever asked for.
oOoOo
Dumbledore called them to his office after the feast, giving Harry an odd sense of déjà vu. Again, it was so they could discuss where they would be going for the holidays, but this time there were no Dursleys involved.
"I believe that, in the light of the first few weeks of last summer, the Dursley family has refused to let you set foot in their home again," said Dumbledore with a small smile, twinkling at them over his spectacles.
"Where will we be going?" asked Blaise. "The Weasleys?"
"I don't think living with the Weasleys for the summer would do any good for the inexplicable guilt you both feel over Miss Weasley's death. However, I have been able to root up an old friend of your mother's, Harry, and she would be delighted to care for you two over the summer."
"Well?" Harry prodded. "Who is it?"
"I doubt the name would mean much to you, but her name is Hestia Jones."
oOoOo
Gulping slightly at the sheer amount of courage that it took for her to just walk into the library, Blaise browsed the shelves, looking for the section on periodicals.
To be honest she had been a bit nervous just to walk in here. Sure, Malfoy had caught her interest when he called her a blood traitor, but it was another thing to go in here alone without back-up and Harry's support.
But she had been scared of what he would think. Would he think she was crazy for believing something Malfoy had said? Yet she wasn't crazy. . . . He had sounded so serious. It made her think, and the wait from her own anxiety was nearly unbearable.
In fact, she wasn't even supposed to be in here. The teachers were all keeping a secure watch on the students to make sure that nothing else happened. . . . Even though they had been assured the Petrifier had been—er, dealt with.
Uh-oh. Harry was now probably wondering where she was. He may even think she had gone to . . . off . . . herself after what she had . . . done. Riddle. That bastard. He had deserved it, she knew that, but to think of what had happened still gave her the chill-bumps and enough nightmares to make her peakish and give her dark half-moons under her eyes.
She had to hurry.
Blaise found the section on periodicals at the back of the library along one wall due to the Daily Prophet insignias on each paper. There were also sections for Witch Weekly, Quidditch! magazine, and Transfiguration and Potions papers. She skipped the other publications and went straight to the Daily Prophet. If there was anything that would report something unsavory while putting people in a bad light, it would be the Daily Prophet.
She searched the shelves and growled, not finding what she wanted immediately, before moving over to where they kept the periodical search globe. Blaise tapped it and said, "Periodicals concerning deaths between 1980 and 1982."
Immediately copies and clips from newspapers during this period appeared on the shelves, each seeming to concern a Death Eater killing or old people obituaries. She quickly began scanning them, looking for a headline that might say Zabini, or an article about her family in general, really.
Was that too much to ask for?
It took some digging and searching (there seemed to be a lot of deaths in 1980 and '81, each mostly about a light family being mass murdered, or a convicted Death Eater being given the Kiss), but at least she found what she came there for.
But what exactly had she come here for?
To see the truth about why she had been sent to a Muggle orphanage?
To find out how her parents had been killed?
Or maybe it was to finally ease her mind?
But then again, maybe it was just so she could see why Lucius Malfoy glared at her so much in Flourish and Blotts. . . .
Oh, who the bloody hell really cared? As long as she found out, which meant she had to actually look and read the article she had seen her family name on.
Hmm, decisions, decisions . . .
Okay, so she was scared to look at it, but who told you that Blaise Cyrilla Zabini was a Gryffindork? No one, that's who! She was a Slytherin, and boy was she acting . . . like . . . one. . . .
"Oh, just look at the damn article, Zabini," she muttered angrily to herself.
Blaise took a deep breath to steel herself, and then read the headline.
Her eyes grew round as Galleons.
Damn.
oOoOo
Theo was softly humming to himself as he shuffled his hand around his box of Every Flavor Beans, trying to find one that would appeal to his senses. After finally finding one that appeared to be cherry, he grinned and popped it into his mouth.
—And promptly spit it back out again.
The raucous compartment suddenly got quiet as everyone looked at him in confusion. Harry was glaring at him and trying to find the place where the bean had gotten stuck in his messy head of hair.
Blaise giggled and grabbed his head so she could get the bean out, since Harry was obviously having trouble finding it. She quickly found the bean and threw it out the window before wiping her hand on Theo's shirt.
Theo grinned shyly. "Sorry. It was blood-flavored."
"Yeah, yeah," Blaise answered distractedly, still trying to wipe germs from her hand.
Harry cringed and thought about getting his hair washed at the first opportunity that arose.
"I am sorry."
"It'll be fine. . . . As soon as I get my hair washed." Harry said with a grin.
Theo looked as if her were about to say something else, but before he could, a girl with bushy brown hair burst into the compartment.
"What's wrong with you?" Blaise asked as Hermione gasped for breath.
"Fred and George . . . dungbombs . . . in the compartment. . . ."
"That's okay, 'Mione. We'll completely understand if you want to stay with us for the rest of the ride." Theo smiled, scooting over so the Gryffindor could sit down.
"Thanks," the out-of-breath girl said as she took the proffered seat.
"So how did your time with Weaselbee go?" Blaise asked as she picked up a licorice wand and bit off a bite.
Hermione rolled her eyes in obvious agitation. "He's a good friend." To the three Slytherins' doubtful faces, she continued, "He is a bit moody, and he gets quite jealous, and he hates Slytherins with a vengeance." Hermione glared at them. "And you three are not helping. . . ."
"Why not? We treat him just like we treat everyone else!" Harry exclaimed.
Hermione raised her eyebrows, and Harry had the courtesy to blush. "Maybe, but he doesn't see it that way. Especially not after what happened to his little sister."
The cheerful mood in the compartment immediately lessened. Any mention of Ginny seemed to do that to people.
Before anyone could continue, a voice said throughout the train, "Everyone please get their luggage ready. We will be arriving at King's Cross in approximately five minutes."
Harry sighed before looking at his best friend, who was finishing off her licorice wand.
"Ready, Blaise?"
Blaise licked her fingers clean.
"As ready as I'll ever be."
oOoOo
Authoress's Note: Yes, this is the end of my version of The Orphan: Book Two. I would like to thank SaphirePhoenix, the author of Book One, for her immeasurable help and well of ideas. Also, I love every single one of my reviewers: Every comment means more to me than you could possibly know.
Thank you, and if you wish to continue reading my version of the adventures of Harry and Blaise, put me on your author alerts! The Orphan: Book Three will be up as soon as I've finished my outline!