I would like to thank my beta for the last chapters, Empress Malfoy, and my lovely substitute beta while she is away, LTDan. :)


The dog simply stood, tail wagging in a calmly playful manner. There was no doubt in her mind at the time it was Sirius—no other animal Ginny had ever seen had those knowing, haunted grey eyes. She fell back into the chair. It walked toward her, sitting at her feet. Her hand shaking, she reached out to touch it. Her hand passed right through what would have been the fur. Too shocked to do much else, she settled back into the chair, her mind reeling.

What if it wasn’t Sirius? What if it was the Grim? Her Uncle Bilius had seen one, and twenty-four hours later he died, as Ron once told her. She peeked at the black dog out of the corner of her eye. It looked back, with a steady stare. Ginny glanced away, gulping. Haven’t I had enough brushes with death?, she thought.

No, it surely couldn’t be the Grim. Ginny tried to think back to Divination—usually she was nearly asleep, but she might have paid attention at some point. She cursed the law of nature that when one was trying to think of something deeply important, they immediately forgot it until it is much too late. The more Ginny tried to remember, the more she couldn’t recall. If only somebody had written a book about the Grim before they died—

Of course! Her Divination book was up in her room, where she probably should have been anyway. She hoped the Grim happened to be in the textbook, anyway. With one last glimpse at the dog, Ginny crept upstairs, where she promptly bumped into something.

Shaken by the events of the night so far, Ginny couldn’t help but gasp. “Sorry,” she muttered, looking down, ready to continue on her seemingly life-or-death quest.

Whoever she bumped into chuckled. It seemed very familiar...

“Dean,” she asked, “is that you?”

“Since we’re in the dark, does that give me an excuse to mistakenly grope you?”

She rolled her eyes, and Dean must have sensed, because he took a slightly more serious tone.

“I left my CD player downstairs,” he explained.

Ginny furrowed her brow; she hadn’t taken Muggle Studies. “What is—”

“A CD player? It’s a device Muggles use to listen to music. Professor Flitwick helped me charm it so I can use it in Hogwarts.” A playful smile curled his lips. “Guess which artist’s CD I was listening to!”

Ginny was still confused by the whole concept. Did it run on plugs and batteries? Furthermore, she most certainly didn’t know too many Muggle rock bands.

“Erm...The Beatles?” she weakly offered.

He nodded eagerly. “Right in one! Abbey Road, to be precise.”

She wrinkled her forehead in confusion.

“An album…oh, never mind. What were you doing downstairs, anyway?” he asked.

The situation in its entirety returned to Ginny. “I just, er—insomnia. I’ve had the most awful insomnia lately, it’s terrible. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” she lightly tapped his arm to pass by him, “I really should go to sleep.” Hastily, she added, “Goodnight!”

Poor Dean was left slightly bewildered on the stairs. He grabbed her arm. “What are you in such a rush for? You say you’re trying to sleep, but you don’t sound tired to me,” he whispered accusingly.

Her eyes narrowed. “Why are you asking me this? What business of it is yours?” she argued.

He took a breath. In the dim light, Ginny could see him run a hand through his hair. “I’m your bloody boyfriend, and you barely act like we’re dating! We haven’t kissed or even gone out on a date. What is the point of this if we’re not spending any time together?”

Ginny’s demeanor softened. He was just frustrated, in possibly more than one way. “I’m sorry, Dean. I truly am. We really haven’t spent any time together, have we? Listen,” she firmly grabbed his chin, “we’ll meet after breakfast tomorrow. Alright?”

She could feel his head nod.

“Good. I’ll see you later then. Enjoy listening to Eggy Road, or whatever.” She stood on her tiptoes, pressing her lips against his cheek. “Goodnight.”

There was certainly no argument from Dean. He grinned, said goodnight himself, and practically trotted down the stairs. Ginny sighed, shaking her head. She hadn’t realized how much she had neglected Dean, but there were more pressing matters for her at hand. Creeping into her room, she groped in the dark for her book until she found it. She then lit a candle and flipped through the pages, looking for anything that might mention the Grim.

All it mentioned was that the Grim was a large, dog-like beast that often haunted churchyards. Nothing Ginny hadn’t known herself. She looked beside her on the bed, where the dog was curled up. It must have followed her up the stairs.

Whether the dog was a Grim or some apparition of Sirius, it scared Ginny. Whatever it was couldn’t be…natural. Then again, magical powers weren’t supposed to be natural either. She decided to look in the library the next day for books on Grims, but her current plan seemed to be that if she didn’t die in twenty-four hours, it wasn’t the Grim. Ginny laid down, pulled the blankets up to her chin, and did not dream of Tom—only because she couldn’t sleep.


Skipping breakfast, Ginny went straight to the library, immersing herself in large volumes of books. Yet she still couldn’t find anything about spooky black dogs that foretold death. She slammed the book closed with a heavy sigh. Looking up, she met a sight worse than the Grim: Draco Malfoy. He took a seat across from her.

“What are you doing?” he asked, almost polite in his manner.

Ginny gave him a puzzled look. “What are you doing?”

He glanced down, playing with his Hogwarts badge. “What can I say, I was bored.” Draco picked up a book. “Creatures That Foretell Doom—this doesn’t have anything to do with Longbottom’s toad, does it?”

Ginny groaned. “What do you want, Malfoy?”

“I was just curious. Really, you should be more grateful of my presence—normally I wouldn’t be caught dead with a Weasley. Answer my question, already...what are you doing?”

She pursed her lips. “I’m investigating something.” Standing up, Ginny started putting the books back on the shelves.

“You—you’re investigating something then, huh?” Something glinted in his eyes as he stood with her. “Can I help?”

“What?” Ginny dropped the books and turned around, her hands on her hips.

He shrugged, putting his fists in his pockets. “I just...wanted to see what an investigation was like, that’s all.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’d think you would have gotten that with all of the dirty politics your father has been involved in.”

Narrowing his eyes, he spat, “Watch your mouth, Weasley.”

This time, she shrugged. “You’re not helping me with this. But, for whatever reason in your psychotic little mind, you wanted to help me with something…you could aid in the Longbottom case.” Ginny thought she sounded rather professional, so she lifted her chin.

Draco snorted. “The Longbottom case? Who are you, Sherlock Holmes?”

She looked confused. He added hastily, “Muggles wrote books about this detective guy. I used to read them.”

Ginny smirked. “You had Muggle books at your house?”

“Only so we could burn them later,” he replied defensively.

She shook her head in disbelief. “Your lot is nutters, you know that?” She gave him a small, almost playful grin.

That was the precise moment Dean walked in the library. He strode over to where they were standing, and the smiles disappeared off their faces. Draco realized he was being friendly with a Mudblood-lover and Ginny realized she had completely forgotten her date.

“Ginny, what are you doing? What about our meeting?” he asked, hurt evident in his voice.

She looked down at her shoes. “I’m so sorry, Dean. I completely forgot, I’ve had a lot to deal with—”

“Oh, really? And why are you spending our date with Malfoy?” he furiously spat.

Draco seemed to be talking to himself. “I shouldn’t have—stupid. Shouldn’t have consulted with a Weasley to help, anyway.” In a daze that would have made Luna Lovegood proud, he stalked away like a wounded cat.

“It was a mistake, Dean!” she cried.

“Damn right, it was a mistake!” he shouted back.

“This is a library! Does no one remember that people are supposed to be quiet in libraries?” Madam Pince appeared with a sour look on her face.

“I’m sorry, Madam,” they both murmured.

“You are fifth and sixth years—I expect you all to be more mature than this. Can’t you settle this elsewhere?”

They nodded.

“Good. Now, shoo! There are people trying to study!” she said sternly. Ginny looked around. Only one other person was in the library, Hannah Abbot, reading a book on magical amphibians.

Ginny and Dean went their separate ways without a word. She was still furious when she entered Charms. She slammed her satchel beside her and sat down in a huff. Luna was already there in the seat beside her, tracing the lines in her palm with her finger.

“I’ve always thought palm lines didn’t tell the future, but rather were a map of the universe.” Ginny looked at her. “What’s wrong?”

She sighed, resting her head on her hand. “Relationship problems.”

“Who are you—oh right, Dean. Well, I’m sorry. Perhaps,” she took Ginny’s hand and traced her life line, “you weren’t meant to be.”

Ginny shrugged. “I mean, I wasn’t really taking it seriously.” She looked around distractedly, looking for the professor. She couldn’t see him—he wasn’t that short, was he? “Where is Flitwick?”

Luna raised her eyebrows. “I don’t know.”

Ginny twirled her quill through her fingers anxiously. “Dean is acting like such a girl, isn’t—”

“Ginny,” Luna sighed, “perhaps you should be more considerate.” Ginny took a close scrutiny of her friend. Luna’s hair was messier than usual and her under-eye circles looked like pillows. Her butterbeer cap necklace was on backwards, and Ginny didn’t think it was on purpose.

“Have you been sleeping well?” Ginny asked.

“No, I—”

Professor Flitwick scurried into the room with a student in tow. The student happened to be Neville, who gave a quick wave to Luna and Ginny. They sat, open-mouthed.

He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry I’m late, I had to help out a student,” he winked at Neville, “with a small problem. Now, have any of you practiced your Summoning Charms? It’s about time to prepare for your OWLS!” He handed Neville a slip of paper. “Oh, I almost forgot to give this back!” he squeaked.

Ginny craned her neck. It was one of the ransom notes he’d been getting. Ginny mouthed to him, What are you doing? Neville shook his head.

Luna elbowed her and whispered, “The OWLS! I’ve completely forgotten about those! Luckily, my father completely aced his, and he promised to help me.” Luna looked suddenly brighter at the mention of her father and Ginny couldn’t help but look slightly baffled. “What’s with the look?” Luna asked. “How else do you think he got to be an editor of a major newspaper?”

While Professor Flitwick was explaining the importance of high marks on the OWLS, another pupil walked into the room. The usually cheerful professor was now looking slightly impatient. “What is it, Miss Abbot?” he asked gently.

She looked down at her feet, clearly embarrassed. “I—erm—I think I left my library book in here.” She dashed over to where an unassuming Colin Creevey was sitting, and snatched the book right under his feet. “I’ll suppose I will leave now, thanks.” Hannah practically sped out the door.

Luna tapped Ginny’s elbow. “Did you see the book she had?” she asked.

Ginny shook her head. “What was it?”

Magical Amphibians.” They looked at each other.

“Oh,” Ginny whispered softly.

Without words, the two of them silently devised a plan—they would corner Hannah after dinner, in a rather intimidating manner, and demand to know where Trevor was.

How could a Hufflepuff be capable of such a thing?, Ginny thought.


“Why haven’t you been sleeping well?” Ginny asked Luna as they waited outside the Great Hall. Luna suddenly looked wary.

“The dreams. Of,” she briefly struggled for words, “Tom Riddle, you, and my mum,” she said quietly.

Even though she knew it wasn’t her fault, Ginny felt guilt swim into her. “I’m sorry.”

Luna lifted an eyebrow and gazed at her. “It’s not you, Ginny. You’re not the one causing this.” She paused. “I think Mum is trying to tell me something.”

“Really?” Ginny replied. She was preoccupied by the sight of the dog, lurking behind her friend’s legs.

Abruptly, Luna’s demeanor changed—she was cold, focused. “Don’t worry, it won’t hurt you,” she said in a calming, yet sinister voice. The dog’s ears seemed to perk up.

Puzzled, Ginny said excitedly, “Do you see the dog, too?”

“What? What dog?” Luna seemed back to herself. “My mother isn’t a dog, as far as I know.” Luna lifted her necklace, twisting it to where it wasn’t backwards. “She helped me make this, you know.” Ginny gave her a half-smile, not knowing what to say.

“It’s very...unique,” she offered, her voice kindly.

Luna nodded. “I rather think so.”

At that moment, Hannah Abbot emerged from the room. Ginny and Luna flanked her like bodyguards. Ginny started questioning her first.

“Why have you been threatening Neville?”

Hannah stopped, giving them a perplexed look. “What?”

Luna pursed her lips, adding in a shrill voice. “You know what we’re talking about. What have you done with Trevor?”

Her eyes were wide and frightened. “I—I haven’t done anything with Trevor. So...his toad IS missing, right?” There was an almost eager look in her features.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “I don’t get it. This is all over that stupid Herbology thing, I mean...why can’t you just let Neville be?”

This time, Hannah was shaking her head. “I swear, I didn’t steal his toad. I don’t even qualify for the contest—I’m a Prefect, remember?” She held up her badge, whose large ‘P’ shined obnoxiously in the light.

Looking at it, Ginny wanted to hurt herself for being an idiot for the second time. She muttered, “I’m sorry, Hannah, this has all been just a horrible mistake, I’m just worried about Neville—”

“And Trevor, of course,” Luna added.

Hannah nodded, smiling brightly. “I’d never hurt Neville like that.” She looked down, a blush staining her cheeks. Suddenly, Ginny began to realize...

“You mean...you like—”

She gave Ginny and Luna a small grin. “Erm…possibly. I mean, he always has that toad, and I figured I could, y’know, strike up a conversation about it.” All of a sudden, her face paled. “I really hope he gets Trevor back.”

Luna nodded sadly, twirling one of her radish earrings around her finger. She sighed, saying, “So do I. Maybe the third time is the charm?”


The dog walked beside Ginny on her way back to the dormitory. Its steps matched hers, and she tried very hard not to pay attention to that, or the fact that the dog kept its gloomy grey eyes on her the entire time. Now that she thought about it, her twenty-four hours were nearly over.

“Are you a good dog, or a bad dog?” Ginny asked, knowing it wouldn’t answer. When she heard a noise behind her, she couldn’t help but jump a bit.

“What, are we talking to thin air now? Has your friend Loony Lovegood been that bad of an influence on you?” Draco Malfoy asked, a sneer evident in his voice.

Hastily, she turned around. “Are you trying to kill me?” she cried, her hands itching to strangle him.

He gave her a bemused look. “What? I don’t like you, but I’m not going to kill you here...”

“Don’t talk to me about that! I mean, all day, I’ve nearly seen the Grim, and right at the twenty-four hour mark, you pop out of the shadows and scare me like that—” She knew that her voice had reached a very high pitch, and that she sounded quite hysterical, but in her mind, he deserved it.

“Nearly seen the Grim? How do you nearly see a Grim? It seems pretty cut-and-run to me,” he spat back, giving her a glare.

Ginny closed her eyes tightly and gritted her teeth. “Just SHUT UP, Malfoy!”

He was silent.

Screaming at him calmed her down, strangely. In a completely polite voice, she asked, “So why are you following me?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Don’t be flattered, Weasley. I was just seeing how your investigation was going.” He tried to say it conversationally, but it sounded more like a death threat.

Ginny lifted a hand to her forehead. “Awful. I’m the worst detective in the history of wizards.” She sighed. “I keep going after the wrong people.” By then, they had stopped, and the dog was sniffing Draco’s shoes.

Draco wrinkled his dog. “What is this dog doing here?” He tried to shoo it away, but he discovered just as Ginny had the morning before that it wasn’t exactly solid.

Ginny looked quickly back and forth from the dog to Draco. “You mean...you can see it?”

“Yes, of course I can see it. It’s just a ghost dog, I guess,” he said indifferently. His eyes widened then crinkled in mirth. “You thought...you thought this was the Grim, didn’t you?”

She didn’t care that he was making fun of her—in fact, she nearly felt like hugging him. It couldn’t be the Grim if Malfoy could see it too!

“And, ugh—” He tried to shake off the dog once more. Draco was obviously not an animal person. “As for your little investigation,” he said the word as if it were unsavory, “you should try looking in your own house. That Granger-wannabe, Marlee or whatever—while we were in the library, she was surrounded by plant books. And this has been a Malfoy family motto for years, Weasley, and you’d do well to listen to it,” he whispered dramatically, “always suspect the quiet ones.”

Ginny certainly wasn’t going to hug him, but she gave a bewildered Draco a very strong handshake. She practically ran back to her common room, ready to stop a toad kidnapper in her tracks.
To Be Continued.
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