Chapter Three:

Ginny Weasley had an instant for fear to sweep over her at the sight, an instant to fight the panic at the thought that she had somehow drowned once more in foreign memories. The moment passed quickly, however, leaving her shaky and nauseous with relief and not a small amount of confusion. She was a mere observer amongst the remnants of the young Dark Lord, after all; his recollections never reacted to her presence as the two in the room were so obviously doing. Moody had reacted so quickly, in fact, that it took a noticeable effort for the grizzled man to pull up his wand before he automatically cursed his intruder.

The other aged wizard reacted with little more than a surprised widening of his eyes as he took in the petite redhead's panic-frozen form.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing in here, girl?"

Ginny was jolted back to herself at the booming demand, the young witch fighting the instinct to step back as the full force of Mad Eye Moody's agitated suspicion landed unerringly on her. She'd always been intimidated by the former Auror, even after learning that the one she had known her third year had actually been an imposter, and so she was rather unsure how it was that she managed to hold her ground when he grasped her arms rather roughly.

"How'd you get here? Who sent you?"

Before she began to stutter an answer through rapidly building nerves, a calm voice broke through Moody's harsh shouts. "Now, now, Alastor, give the child some space. There's no need to scare her, she will be more than willing to answer any questions we may have, isn't that correct, Miss Weasley?"

Ginny nodded stiffly, taking a moment to regain her breath and shift ever-so-slightly away from the scowling wizard. Neither men missed her action, nor the fact that she deliberately but subtly rolled her shoulders and loosened her grip on her wand as she lowered it to her side in a move that seemed outwardly relaxed, but in truth left her in the perfect position to raise her wand in the most efficient and accurate way possible. The observation left the wizards impressed and wary in equal measure.

Any questions that may have been aimed at her were forestalled, however, by the deafeningly silent question burning in the witch's brown eyes as they fixed on the wizard still seated before the fire. "You're alive."

The statement was unnecessary in it's repetition of the obvious, but was something she hadn't been able to keep to herself, almost needing to put it into words in order to process the jarring information. Blue eyes, lacking a noticeable amount of their usual sparkle, simply stared back at her, no response coming from either wizard as her words echoed in the small sitting room. In the silence, her gaze narrowed, sharpening as the thoughts raced and spun in her mind. The shocking facts scattered previous assumptions, merged with devious insight that had been surfacing within her over the last months, and left her with a cold but logical assessment.

"You tricked him. You fooled everyone in order to trick him into thinking you were dead."

Both wizards regarded her with hidden speculation, both forming and reforming opinions as the youngest Weasley seized their intentions without hesitation.

"No one saw it, no one doubted, which means at least the body was real, so someone died. Someone that looked like you. Polyjuice only lasts an hour because it has to fight against the cells' natural arrangement. An expert Potions master may be able to lengthen the effects, but not more than a couple hours. Once someone dies, however, the cells stop reproducing, stop fighting the potion, so it wouldn't wear off at all. So someone else is buried with your face, someone who hasn't been missed in the last two months."

Brown and blue locked, the former brightening with realization, the latter dulled with regret even as the gaze swept over her with consideration. "Yes, Miss Weasley, that is precisely correct."

More questions piled up almost visibly in her eyes, but neither said another word, the silence stretching almost painfully between them until it was broken as the third occupant of the small room finally reached the end of his patience.

"You figured that out pretty quick there for a fifth-year witch. Too quick if you ask me."

Only the former Headmaster's warning glance kept the veteran from taking hold of her once more. But even Dumbledore couldn't keep his magical eye from spinning a full circuit around the room and switching modes as it zeroed in on the witch, checking for all manner of spells and potions and magical deceits. Finding no evidence that the young redhead was anyone but Ginny Weasley, however, he grudgingly backed down and let the older wizard question her.

"That was a rather remarkable display of deduction, Miss Weasley. I must say I am almost as impressed with it as I was with the surprising ease with which you slipped out of your house and infiltrated both the Headquarters and these rooms without even Alastor or myself becoming aware of your presence until you were upon us. I would be most interested in how you managed such a feat."

Memories both her own, and not, flickered at the edge of her thoughts. Her, reading from the diary, practicing the spells that appeared on the worn pages, Tom's encouragement forming on the parchment before her. Her, using those spells, and others, going through the unfamiliar motions without conscious thought or control as she crept through the castle's dark corridors.

She pushed it all further into her mind, forcing herself to remain focused on the equally distressing knowledge that had led her there that night. The same fear and urgency that had sped her flight only an hour before surged through her once more. "I'll explain what I can, but first, you have to stop them. Hermione thinks she's found them, but it's a trap and they're going to go, they're going to get themselves killed, and they won't listen to me, and mum couldn't hold them if she tried. You have to do something."

Dumbledore rose for the first time, placing his good hand on her shoulder and steering her gently to a nearby chair. "From the beginning if you would, Miss Weasley."

Ginny took a deep breath as the two wizards took seats across from her, tried to steady her nerves enough to speak calmly. "Hermione's been researching, trying to find the rest of the Horcruxes."

Moody's eye narrowed at her last word, but remained silent as she continued. "She thinks she's figured out what they are, where they are, and she and Ron and Harry are planning to go find them after Bill's wedding. But she's wrong, he knew someone would look where she did, use the same books. He planned for it, he left a trap, and they're going to walk right into it. They're going to die if you don't stop them."

An edge of panic seeped into her words as she tried to explain the urgency of the matter to the only two people who could help her. Her nerves were scraping themselves raw and she couldn't keep herself from jumping in her seat when the former Auror leaned towards her with a suspicious glare.

"How do you know what Voldemort knew, what he planned? What aren't you telling us, girl?" The harsh words sent her pulse racing and her eyes falling to her hands as she fisted them around the wand she had never put away.

She managed a shuddering breath, forcing herself to say it before Moody followed through with the obvious urge to leap across the distance between them and force the answer from her.

"I see it." She felt her skin grow cold and her stomach roll as it always did when she thought about what was happening to her. "Bits and pieces. Flashes. Memories."

Ginny took another breath, tried to still the tremors making her hands shake in her lap. "At first it was just dreams. About my first year."

She chanced a quick look at the former Headmaster but couldn't keep her eyes on him when she saw him looking directly at her. "Then it was about other stuff, stuff I never did, places I've never been, spells I have never cast before, but know exactly how to use. I remember what happened, but they aren't my memories." This time she was able to maintain eye contact, her gaze pleading.

"It's started happening when I'm awake now. I'll hear something, or see something, and it'll remind me of stuff, but it's stuff I didn't know before. I- I think it's stuff he knew, memories he left in the diary that got in me, in my head."

She refused to look anywhere but into those sharp blue eyes as they stared at her, assessed her. She half expected Moody to tackle her from the chair, to accuse her of being under some kind of spell, a tool of the Dark Lord. But the paranoid wizard simply stared, at her, at Dumbledore, and thought. And planned.

End Chapter Three
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