Chapter 36: The Catalyst
Ginny trampled through the forest, with only the sparse moonlight to guide her. A million thoughts were running through her head. She was still in shock – how could Neville be the enemy? Let alone the fact that he was alive, but that he was the person responsible for the attacks on the unicorns. And the biggest blow of all; he’d used his knowledge of her experience in the Chamber of Secrets and had exploited it to use her.
Her parents were surprised that she hadn’t suffered any lingering affects from the possession of her body by Tom Riddle. Ginny, after a relatively short amount of time spent wallowing in anguish over guilt for attacking her friends and unleashing a monster on her school. But the biggest trauma she’d suffered throughout the whole ordeal was the feeling of absolute stupidity – her naiveté and blind trust of someone she couldn’t see had led her down a dangerous path, and so many people knew about how stupid she’d been. The humiliation and the shame of it was the one thing that haunted her the most.
Neville understood that. The fumbling, clumsy and forgetful boy who was always messing up in Potions and costing his House points had understood her completely when she talked about the humiliation she suffered because of her stupidity. It had been after the Triwizard Yule Ball; he’d mumbled a fumbling apology about his clumsiness and for stepping on her feet constantly throughout the night. The look on his face had sparked a sense of familiarity within Ginny. They were alike in so many ways; bound to suffer from actions they had no control over, they were both on the outer fringes of the Trio of her brother, Hermione and Harry – and most importantly, they were both the visible invisible of Griffyndor House.
She thought that he was a kindred spirit. Someone who she could tell the details she remembered from her time as the Heir of Slytherin to, without fearing their reaction to her stupidity. He could sympathize with her, and he never judged her. She trusted him. She told him all her secrets about that misadventure. And here he was, alive and exploiting her trust. Making her feel ashamed and humiliated, over the simple act of trusting a friend who had turned around and betrayed her.
As she ran blindly through the woods, those thoughts kept flashing through her mind. Before she realized it, the shroud of shock was suddenly cast away, and all that was left was anger. The more that she thought about the situation, the hotter the anger burned, until she felt her face flame in unspent rage. She poured her energy into her footfalls, lengthening her stride and quickening her pace. She would rather die than be caught by him.
She longed for her wand, a stray thought remembering that it was placed carefully on the nightstand beside her bed. If the situation arose, she knew that she could use her power without the help of the wand. But her control was fragile – she had been controlled by another force, had enacted terribly strong magic to create the magical barrier, and had blasted away the spell in order to escape from Neville. Deep inside her mind, the fear that she may not be able to control the strength and direction of any spell she tried to use nagged at her.
She could see the spot that Draco was supposed to meet her, about a hundred yards away from her. Casting a backwards glance over her shoulder, she scanned the dark forest, hoping to catch a glance of blond hair shining in the moonlight. As she turned her attention back to the terrain, her foot caught on a root jutting out from the ground, and her full-speed pace sent her flying uncontrollably to the ground.
In the speed of her fall, and in her distracted state, she was unable to put her hands out to catch her, and with a stab of fear, she saw the dirty path come closer and closer to her face. She managed a small cry before she collided, head on, with the ground. An explosion of pain had her gasping in shock, causing her to cough as she inhaled dirt from the ground from her gasping breaths. She could taste a familiar metallic taste in her mouth; blood from a now-split lip.
Crying out from the pain and dizziness as she pushed herself up to her knees, Ginny tried to work up enough energy to stand and continue to run. She was so close. Touching her lip, grimacing as it burned with pain, she took a deep breath and gave a great push to stand up. And screamed as she felt her hair pulled, snapping her head back. A knee dug painfully into her back, keeping her immobile as his hand twisted through her loose strands of hair, securing his hold on her.
“You just had to get involved in this, didn’t you, Ginny? Everything was going along just fine – Danika’s reports indicated that our spells would have deteriorated the protection around the unicorns in a few more days. A few more days, Ginny!” he raged, grabbing her roughly by the arm and hauling her to her feet. Her vision whirled at the sudden movement as a wave of pain washed over her, and she stumbled backwards.
“I made a promise that I would do whatever I could to stop all Dark Magic, Neville. I couldn’t let you or anyone destroy the unicorns,” she stammered, ignoring the burning pain in her face as she spoke. His grip around her arm tightened painfully as his anger overwhelmed him. He pushed her backwards, slamming her up against a tree.
“You always were the virtuous little Gryffindor, weren’t you?” he sneered at her, smirking as she struggled painfully against his grip.
“I made that promise because I saw firsthand what Dark Magic could do when I saw you die,” she gasped as he pressed her painfully into the tree. She struggled to free her arms – if she could just position them properly, she’d be able to use her power to throw him back, the same way she had done to Darien in the corridor a few nights prior. But he seemed to be aware of what she was trying to do, and had shifted his grip to hold her wrists above her head, keeping her powerless.
“How can you think that all this is so terrible of me, Ginny? Weren’t you the one who set a dangerous creature on her Housemates and Petrified her friends, in her first year alone? Weren’t you the bloody Heir of Slytherin? You should have wanted this! To bring back the greatest Wizard in History!” Neville exclaimed.
“If he’s so great, then why did he bloody well end up dead in the first place?” Ginny yelled, unable to control herself against the repulsion she felt at his endless litany of compliments for Salazar Slytherin. She watched as she could see his face slowly grow red in rage, and cried out as he struck her.
* * * * *
It was a forest that he had spent his summers exploring, the place that he had escaped the pressures and tensions that encompassed his family. He was usually sent to stay with his uncle’s family during the summer, and those were the times when he would actually live the life of a child. No endless history lessons, learning the noble purposes behind the Dark Arts, no ceaseless need to be perfect. His father, as Draco got older, would begin to spend a few weeks at the manor in Bulgaria, citing the need to ‘teach’ Draco about the land and the history so that when it became his, he would be prepared for the responsibilities. How he resented his interruption into the golden days of his youth.
His knowledge of the forest allowed him to cut easily through the trees, finding the shortest way to the point he was to meet Ginny. He could hear Ginny trampling through the brush, and the heavy footsteps close behind her. He managed to double back silently, until he came up behind Neville.
He could hear their voices, carried to him on the wind. Crouching down low, hidden in the bushes, he peered between the branches and watched the interaction. Neville had pulled Ginny down off the ground, roughly slamming her into a tree. Draco felt his muscles tense and a cold rage begin to spread throughout his body as he caught a glimpse of her face – her lip was swollen and bleeding, and there was a nasty-looking abrasion on her forehead. He withdrew his wand, watching carefully, planning a strategy. He glanced down the path, and smiled in relief as his Slytherin mind jumped into work and started plotting.
And when he heard her cry out and saw Neville strike her, all his plotting flew out the window, and before he could even think, he was charging from the bushes, wand all forgotten. He grabbed Neville, tearing him away from where he had Ginny trapped against the tree. He could barely see, he was so enraged. Draco threw him to the ground and just attacked blindly, striking wherever he could, expelling his rage with each blow he landed. He could hear Ginny yelling in the background, but his focus was entirely on injuring his opponent. The sickening thud of his hand making contact with Neville’s face filled his ears, and he refused to stop even when his hands were covered in his blood.
“Draco, stop it, you’re going to kill him!” Ginny shrieked, and he felt her pulling him away. Neville was moaning softly on the ground, his hands clutching his face.
“What a loss that would be!” he spat back, his anger not completely exorcised at the moment. But then his eyes focused on her face; smudged with dirt and blood, slightly swollen from the impact of her fall and Neville’s strike. She was staring up at him intently, her eyes pleading with him.
“Please, Draco, I could have prevented his death once, and didn’t. I can’t see it happen again,” she whispered, looking away from him. He closed his eyes and sighed, feeling the last flares of anger drain away, replaced completely with concern for her.
“We’ll have to take him back to the field, and let Potter and the other Aurors take care of him,” he relented. He reached a hand up to gently cup her face, his thumb brushing away a smudge of dirt. He smiled at her, reassuring. There was a look in her eyes that was very disturbing to him – undoubtedly the reality of all that had happened was beginning to take hold. A loud moan behind them reminded him of the fact that there was a Dark wizard lying on ground, while injured, he was still a threat.
Draco quickly conjured magical restraints for Neville, and bent down to pull him up off the ground. Neville struggled violently, and Draco cast Ginny an anguished look as he tightened his grip on him.
“If you don’t stop struggling, I’ll Stupefy you,” Draco warned.
“Why did you stop? You know I’ll never stop. They’ll never be safe as long as I’m alive, as long as my followers still know of their existence,” he gasped. He was a horrifying vision, his face twisted with hate and covered in blood. Ginny had to look away, unable to correlate the corrupted person in front of her with the innocent boy she had been friends with.
“Because if I didn’t, then I’d be far too much like you – and my father – to be of comfort,” Draco answered. “In fact, I think I’d rather die a horrible death than look in the mirror and know that I’m like either of you.”
A series of pops filled the air, and suddenly they were surrounded by people. Harry, Hermione and Ron, along with a few other Aurors that Ginny recognized from the Ministry were all standing around them, wands pointing at Draco and Neville in the center. Draco, caught of guard by the sudden interrupted, released Neville (his hand still bound by the magical restraints). The momentary distraction was all that Neville needed, as he lunged forward, and pulled Draco’s wand from his hands.
Ginny trampled through the forest, with only the sparse moonlight to guide her. A million thoughts were running through her head. She was still in shock – how could Neville be the enemy? Let alone the fact that he was alive, but that he was the person responsible for the attacks on the unicorns. And the biggest blow of all; he’d used his knowledge of her experience in the Chamber of Secrets and had exploited it to use her.
Her parents were surprised that she hadn’t suffered any lingering affects from the possession of her body by Tom Riddle. Ginny, after a relatively short amount of time spent wallowing in anguish over guilt for attacking her friends and unleashing a monster on her school. But the biggest trauma she’d suffered throughout the whole ordeal was the feeling of absolute stupidity – her naiveté and blind trust of someone she couldn’t see had led her down a dangerous path, and so many people knew about how stupid she’d been. The humiliation and the shame of it was the one thing that haunted her the most.
Neville understood that. The fumbling, clumsy and forgetful boy who was always messing up in Potions and costing his House points had understood her completely when she talked about the humiliation she suffered because of her stupidity. It had been after the Triwizard Yule Ball; he’d mumbled a fumbling apology about his clumsiness and for stepping on her feet constantly throughout the night. The look on his face had sparked a sense of familiarity within Ginny. They were alike in so many ways; bound to suffer from actions they had no control over, they were both on the outer fringes of the Trio of her brother, Hermione and Harry – and most importantly, they were both the visible invisible of Griffyndor House.
She thought that he was a kindred spirit. Someone who she could tell the details she remembered from her time as the Heir of Slytherin to, without fearing their reaction to her stupidity. He could sympathize with her, and he never judged her. She trusted him. She told him all her secrets about that misadventure. And here he was, alive and exploiting her trust. Making her feel ashamed and humiliated, over the simple act of trusting a friend who had turned around and betrayed her.
As she ran blindly through the woods, those thoughts kept flashing through her mind. Before she realized it, the shroud of shock was suddenly cast away, and all that was left was anger. The more that she thought about the situation, the hotter the anger burned, until she felt her face flame in unspent rage. She poured her energy into her footfalls, lengthening her stride and quickening her pace. She would rather die than be caught by him.
She longed for her wand, a stray thought remembering that it was placed carefully on the nightstand beside her bed. If the situation arose, she knew that she could use her power without the help of the wand. But her control was fragile – she had been controlled by another force, had enacted terribly strong magic to create the magical barrier, and had blasted away the spell in order to escape from Neville. Deep inside her mind, the fear that she may not be able to control the strength and direction of any spell she tried to use nagged at her.
She could see the spot that Draco was supposed to meet her, about a hundred yards away from her. Casting a backwards glance over her shoulder, she scanned the dark forest, hoping to catch a glance of blond hair shining in the moonlight. As she turned her attention back to the terrain, her foot caught on a root jutting out from the ground, and her full-speed pace sent her flying uncontrollably to the ground.
In the speed of her fall, and in her distracted state, she was unable to put her hands out to catch her, and with a stab of fear, she saw the dirty path come closer and closer to her face. She managed a small cry before she collided, head on, with the ground. An explosion of pain had her gasping in shock, causing her to cough as she inhaled dirt from the ground from her gasping breaths. She could taste a familiar metallic taste in her mouth; blood from a now-split lip.
Crying out from the pain and dizziness as she pushed herself up to her knees, Ginny tried to work up enough energy to stand and continue to run. She was so close. Touching her lip, grimacing as it burned with pain, she took a deep breath and gave a great push to stand up. And screamed as she felt her hair pulled, snapping her head back. A knee dug painfully into her back, keeping her immobile as his hand twisted through her loose strands of hair, securing his hold on her.
“You just had to get involved in this, didn’t you, Ginny? Everything was going along just fine – Danika’s reports indicated that our spells would have deteriorated the protection around the unicorns in a few more days. A few more days, Ginny!” he raged, grabbing her roughly by the arm and hauling her to her feet. Her vision whirled at the sudden movement as a wave of pain washed over her, and she stumbled backwards.
“I made a promise that I would do whatever I could to stop all Dark Magic, Neville. I couldn’t let you or anyone destroy the unicorns,” she stammered, ignoring the burning pain in her face as she spoke. His grip around her arm tightened painfully as his anger overwhelmed him. He pushed her backwards, slamming her up against a tree.
“You always were the virtuous little Gryffindor, weren’t you?” he sneered at her, smirking as she struggled painfully against his grip.
“I made that promise because I saw firsthand what Dark Magic could do when I saw you die,” she gasped as he pressed her painfully into the tree. She struggled to free her arms – if she could just position them properly, she’d be able to use her power to throw him back, the same way she had done to Darien in the corridor a few nights prior. But he seemed to be aware of what she was trying to do, and had shifted his grip to hold her wrists above her head, keeping her powerless.
“How can you think that all this is so terrible of me, Ginny? Weren’t you the one who set a dangerous creature on her Housemates and Petrified her friends, in her first year alone? Weren’t you the bloody Heir of Slytherin? You should have wanted this! To bring back the greatest Wizard in History!” Neville exclaimed.
“If he’s so great, then why did he bloody well end up dead in the first place?” Ginny yelled, unable to control herself against the repulsion she felt at his endless litany of compliments for Salazar Slytherin. She watched as she could see his face slowly grow red in rage, and cried out as he struck her.
* * * * *
It was a forest that he had spent his summers exploring, the place that he had escaped the pressures and tensions that encompassed his family. He was usually sent to stay with his uncle’s family during the summer, and those were the times when he would actually live the life of a child. No endless history lessons, learning the noble purposes behind the Dark Arts, no ceaseless need to be perfect. His father, as Draco got older, would begin to spend a few weeks at the manor in Bulgaria, citing the need to ‘teach’ Draco about the land and the history so that when it became his, he would be prepared for the responsibilities. How he resented his interruption into the golden days of his youth.
His knowledge of the forest allowed him to cut easily through the trees, finding the shortest way to the point he was to meet Ginny. He could hear Ginny trampling through the brush, and the heavy footsteps close behind her. He managed to double back silently, until he came up behind Neville.
He could hear their voices, carried to him on the wind. Crouching down low, hidden in the bushes, he peered between the branches and watched the interaction. Neville had pulled Ginny down off the ground, roughly slamming her into a tree. Draco felt his muscles tense and a cold rage begin to spread throughout his body as he caught a glimpse of her face – her lip was swollen and bleeding, and there was a nasty-looking abrasion on her forehead. He withdrew his wand, watching carefully, planning a strategy. He glanced down the path, and smiled in relief as his Slytherin mind jumped into work and started plotting.
And when he heard her cry out and saw Neville strike her, all his plotting flew out the window, and before he could even think, he was charging from the bushes, wand all forgotten. He grabbed Neville, tearing him away from where he had Ginny trapped against the tree. He could barely see, he was so enraged. Draco threw him to the ground and just attacked blindly, striking wherever he could, expelling his rage with each blow he landed. He could hear Ginny yelling in the background, but his focus was entirely on injuring his opponent. The sickening thud of his hand making contact with Neville’s face filled his ears, and he refused to stop even when his hands were covered in his blood.
“Draco, stop it, you’re going to kill him!” Ginny shrieked, and he felt her pulling him away. Neville was moaning softly on the ground, his hands clutching his face.
“What a loss that would be!” he spat back, his anger not completely exorcised at the moment. But then his eyes focused on her face; smudged with dirt and blood, slightly swollen from the impact of her fall and Neville’s strike. She was staring up at him intently, her eyes pleading with him.
“Please, Draco, I could have prevented his death once, and didn’t. I can’t see it happen again,” she whispered, looking away from him. He closed his eyes and sighed, feeling the last flares of anger drain away, replaced completely with concern for her.
“We’ll have to take him back to the field, and let Potter and the other Aurors take care of him,” he relented. He reached a hand up to gently cup her face, his thumb brushing away a smudge of dirt. He smiled at her, reassuring. There was a look in her eyes that was very disturbing to him – undoubtedly the reality of all that had happened was beginning to take hold. A loud moan behind them reminded him of the fact that there was a Dark wizard lying on ground, while injured, he was still a threat.
Draco quickly conjured magical restraints for Neville, and bent down to pull him up off the ground. Neville struggled violently, and Draco cast Ginny an anguished look as he tightened his grip on him.
“If you don’t stop struggling, I’ll Stupefy you,” Draco warned.
“Why did you stop? You know I’ll never stop. They’ll never be safe as long as I’m alive, as long as my followers still know of their existence,” he gasped. He was a horrifying vision, his face twisted with hate and covered in blood. Ginny had to look away, unable to correlate the corrupted person in front of her with the innocent boy she had been friends with.
“Because if I didn’t, then I’d be far too much like you – and my father – to be of comfort,” Draco answered. “In fact, I think I’d rather die a horrible death than look in the mirror and know that I’m like either of you.”
A series of pops filled the air, and suddenly they were surrounded by people. Harry, Hermione and Ron, along with a few other Aurors that Ginny recognized from the Ministry were all standing around them, wands pointing at Draco and Neville in the center. Draco, caught of guard by the sudden interrupted, released Neville (his hand still bound by the magical restraints). The momentary distraction was all that Neville needed, as he lunged forward, and pulled Draco’s wand from his hands.
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