Chapter Five: Time is of the Essence

Harry stood in front of Dumbledore’s tomb and ran his hand through his messy mop of black hair.  With an uncontrollable shudder he remembered the vision of Voldemort slicing through the marble memorial to retrieve the Deathstick from Dumbledore’s decaying corpse.  Retrieving the Elder Wand was nothing more than grave robbing…the idea nauseated him.  The war was over.  Voldemort was dead.  His responsibility to the wizarding world was complete. 

Questions reeled through Harry’s mind, leaving him unsettled and unsure why he second-guessed his initial refusal to the headmistress.  Why was McGonagall so positive her plan would work?  Why didn’t Dumbledore offer his insight during the discussion?  The whole episode seemed peculiar.  Harry was extremely uncomfortable with his mentor’s silence.  Stricken and wishing for a clear answer, he paced alongside Dumbledore’s tomb twirling his wand in his fingers as he continued to massage his forehead with his other hand.

“EXPELLIARMUS!”

“Wha…?” Harry spun and watched as his wand formed a high arc and landed in Ginny’s hand.  She didn’t stop with the first spell.

“OPPUGNO!” she screamed as jets of small, yellow canaries swirled from her wand and attacked him from every angle.

“Bloody hell, Ginny!  What are you on about?” Harry yelled through the curtain of feathers.

“THAT — IS — IT…” she cried as she nailed him with her signature Bat-Bogey hex.  Bogeys and goo and feathers and beaks were flying everywhere…

Harry screeched and covered his head as he tried to smack away the onslaught.  “Ginny!  Gerroffmee!”

Ginny stopped to survey her work.  Harry looked thoroughly, positively clueless as he pleaded with her to lift the hexes.  “You’re a right, foul git!” She howled as she watched him dancing and squirming in the sickening blur.  Not finished, she raised her wand and calmly, coolly chanted “Petrificus Totalus.”  Aghast, Harry fell to the ground with a hard thud.

Ginny sauntered to Harry’s head and looked down into his wide, green eyes. “Finite,” she snarled, banishing the bogies and canaries.  His eyes grew even wider as he blinked rapidly; she could tell he was begging her to release him from the Full-Body-Bind.

“No way, chum,” she tormented.  “Thought you were going somewhere, did you?  D’you forget,” she bellowed as she pointed up the bank “you stood there and promised never to leave me?”  Ginny started to circle Harry like a lioness toying with her prey.  He watched her flaming brown eyes as she stalked around him with her hair spilling behind her in a glistening, fiery veil.

“YOU’RE GOING TO LISTEN TO ME NOW!” she shrieked.  Harry had never seen her so angry — this was the Ginny of Weasley lore.  Veins were popping out on her forehead as she yelled; her face was the color of a vine-ripe tomato.

“You — left — me — behind — and — were — about — to — do — it —again…” Ginny panted, gesturing in fury.  “I can’t believe it.  I JUST can’t BLOODY believe it!”  Angry tears were streaming down her face as she ranted.  “You were gone almost a year…off to do Merlin-knows-what…off on your sodding mission.” She spit hatefully.  “For all I knew you were dead.”

“YOU COULD HAVE DIED, Y’KNOW!” Ginny melted to her knees sobbing, covering her face with her hands.  “Oh, sod it all…”

Harry had a strange feeling of déjà vu; lying helpless and watching Ginny reminded him of the Astronomy tower.  He was sure he was losing her; just as he had lost Dumbledore that horrible night…he started to feel painful pricks of emotion flooding his eyes.

“Bill and Fleur’s wedding…I watched you, y’know!” Ginny fumed.  “I saw you seething at Fleur’s cousin when we danced.  I felt your eyes all over me; they were as bad as that slimy git’s bloody paws all over my arse! 

“I knew when I kissed you on your birthday you loved me — but you left anyway!”  Ginny plopped down, pulled her knees into her chest and glowered at him.

“And then you were gone — poof!” she said, flicking her hands in the air.  “Death Eaters showed up at our house and you just vanished!  And I was supposed to live my life like nothing happened!” she laughed sarcastically.  “I was supposed to go off to school, where I should have worn a sign on my back saying ‘Torture Me, I Love Undesirable #1.’”

“And then Ron…Betcha didn’t think I knew about him — that foul, coward brother of mine?  Ickle Ronniekins went off and left you!  He couldn’t handle it!  Fleur slipped after Christmas…I threatened to tell Mum if Bill didn’t tell me the truth!  That stupid git left you and my best friend alone!  Thought Hermione wanted you! How bloody thick could he be?  Aargh!”  She laughed maliciously then jumped up and started circling again.

“A note.  An owl.  A flipping smoke signal.  Anything,” she growled.  Anything to let me know you were alive.  You sent me NOTHING.  And then you made me watch as Hagrid carried your dead body out of the Forbidden Forest.  HOW DO YOU THINK THAT MADE ME FEEL?  HOW DO YOU THINK I FELT, HARRY POTTER?  I — WANTED — TO — DIE.”

“Y’know what?  Y’have any idea why I’m angry?  NO!  ‘Cause you’ve gone off trying to protect me again like I’m some little girl!  WELL I’M NOT A LITTLE GIRL!” she sobbed.  “No, Hermione, don’t tell Ginny!” she mimicked contemptuously. 

“I’m giving you one chance before I set the canaries on you again.” She demanded as she pointed her wand directly between his eyes.  “What was Hermione not supposed to tell me?”

“ANSWER ME!” Ginny raged.  Harry said nothing.  She hadn’t lifted the curse.  Ginny threw up her arms as she realized the problem and snarled, “Oh, all right.  But don’t think for one minute you’re getting your wand back.  Finite Incantatem.”

“G-G-G-Ginny, I…” Harry stuttered, trying to find words to counter her tirade.  “I’m so s-s-sorry.”  He remained on the ground for a moment as the shock of the situation slowly faded.

“Not sorry enough Potter.” Ginny moaned as she turned her back to him.  Harry was sure her tears were now real.  Ginny wasn’t weepy; she wasn’t easily shaken — his situation was dire.

“Ginny,” Harry pleaded as he stood up and brushed himself off.  “Ginny, look at me.  Look at me please?”  He wanted to reach out for her, but her anger unsettled him.  It scared him more than dying or Voldemort combined.  He was afraid she would push him away — and never look back.  The thought of losing her, along with his ridiculously large lunch, combined forces in his body to betray him.  Before he could stop himself, a projectile of vomit flew from his mouth.  Horrified and heaving, he turned and purged until his stomach was emptied.

Ginny turned round at the sound of Harry retching, engrossed in the scene.  She had screamed until Harry heaved.  Harry smiled thinly, obviously embarrassed.  “Oh dear, what have I done? I certainly didn’t aim to make you lose your lunch.” She mused.  Pinching her nose and standing back a bit she cleaned up his incredible mess.  “Scourgify.” 

Ginny started to giggle.  Within seconds her giggles progressed to heaving, uncontrolled guffaws of laughter.  Harry, still not entirely sure what caused her outburst in the first place, didn’t find her display amusing.  She noticed his dubious expression and stated, “You know I’m still very angry with you — you’re not off the hook by a long shot.”

Somewhat relieved he would live through the night; Harry asked Ginny quietly, “How did you find out?”

“I followed you.”

“You followed me?”

“Actually, I followed Ron and Hermione.  Ronniekins doesn’t normally eat biscuits when he’s snogging.  Hermione isn’t exactly discreet when she looks to see if she’s being watched, either.”

“So you heard everything?”

“Well, no.  I heard bits and pieces.  I know McGonagall wants you to do something.  I know Hermione didn’t have much to say and Ron argued against it.  I know you said you were doing it.  I know you begged Hermione not to tell me.  I know you told my brother to sod off.”

“That’s it?”

Ginny was flustered.  Had she taken the trio’s conversation out of context?  Had she screamed at him for nothing?  She answered indignantly, “That’s all.”

Harry sighed.  He didn’t want to tell Ginny about the plan because he couldn’t fail.  He couldn’t tell her he was going back to help Fred and then face her when he didn’t follow through.  He wasn’t sure he could handle her disappointment.  “Can we move over there and sit down?” he asked, pointing to the shaded area under a nearby tree.  Ginny nodded her ascent and they moved under the beech and made themselves comfortable.

“Ginny, I told you I had a lot to explain.  I will explain.  I promise.  I just can’t do it right this moment.” Harry started, reaching out to take her hand.  “Some of what McGonagall wants me to do is very connected to what happened with Voldemort…not just the battle, but what Ron, Hermione and I were doing while we were gone.  It’s going to take some time to explain all that.  I don’t really have a lot of time right now.”

Ginny yanked her hand back like she’d been badly burned.  “Why on earth wouldn’t you have time, Harry?  Don’t you have the rest of your life?  Isn’t the war over?” she said shrilly.  Harry closed his eyes in frustration.  She knew he was keeping something from her and she wasn’t going to let up until he told her.  “Harry, if you think you’re leaving this spot without telling me what’s going on…well, you’re mental,” she said clearly, setting her jaw.  “Also, in case you’ve forgotten, I have your wand.”

“I know you have my wand,” Harry snipped.  “If I had my wand, I wouldn’t be sitting here with peck marks and feathers in my hair.”

“Cute, Harry, but not sufficient.  It’s your fault you’re canary cuisine,” she chided.  Harry grunted noncommittally.

“You’re not giving up on this, are you?” he asked searching her face for a white flag.

“Nope.  It also seems I have a nice, new wand, too.” Ginny quipped, testing his wand with a flourish.

“That’s blackmail, Ginny,” Harry pleaded.

She reached out and jabbed him in the chest with her forefinger.  “Take it or leave it Potter.  I’m not going to sit here all day.”

Defeated, Harry gave Ginny the entire account starting with the trip to McGonagall’s office and ending with the spell explosion in front of Dumbledore’s tomb.  Ginny was dumbstruck.  She returned his wand.

“She can’t be serious.”

“She is, Ginny.  She wants me to go as soon as possible.  That’s why I was down here.  I was about to break open the tomb to take back the Elder Wand.”

“You were about to desecrate Dumbledore’s grave?” she asked, wondering what was so special about an Elder Wand.

“I have to if I’m going to use that wand.  I just sealed the bloody tomb last night…I replaced the wand before you came to find me.”

Dismissing Harry’s wand nonsense, Ginny got to the point.  “You’re taking me with you.”

“No, I am absolutely NOT taking you with me.”

“This is my family we’re talking about.  You told me this was about Fred.  I’m going.”

“Ginny, you can’t.  The cloak is only so big…what if something happens?”

Ginny started to lose her temper again.  “Oi!  Could you at least find a better excuse than the cloak?  It’s fine for something to happen to you but not to me, is it?”

“No, that’s not it,” Harry muttered.  “I can’t let anything happen to you.”

“How very noble of you, Harry.  I thought I addressed this problem earlier.  Let’s get this straight,” Ginny steamed.  “Where you go, I go.  It’s that simple.”

“Ginny, there’s nothing simple about this.”

Frustrated and tired of arguing, Ginny stood up.  “Yes there is, Potter.  This is where you decide: I’m going with you or you won’t be coming back to me.”  With tears stinging her eyes she turned back towards the school, leaving him there to watch her walk away.

* * *

Hurt and angry, Ginny ran back up the steps and into the school hoping to slip by her mother undetected.  She wasn’t about to let her mum, the Harry-lover, see her blubbering and swollen over their row on the lawn.  Half-way up the stairs to Gryffindor tower she found herself face-to-face with Ron.

“Merlin’s pants, Ginny!  What’s wrong?”

“I think you’ve seen me cry before, Ron,” she sniped.  “It’s not as if there aren’t a million things in this castle to cry over.” She said as she tried to push past him.  Noticing the dejected look on his face, she asked “What’s up with you?  Where’s Hermione?”

Ron rolled his eyes.  “The school’s half-gone and the girl was adamant about visiting the library.  She told me to sit here and wait for Harry — which I’d much rather do than sit in that drippy cave while she grieves over the Restricted Section.” He said, making a wretched face.

“Wait for Harry, eh?” Ginny asked, now interested in why Ron was waiting on the stairs.

“Yeah, she said she wants to talk to him…I told her I’d bring him to the library when I saw him.” He blinked innocently.

“Well, I wouldn’t plan on seeing him for awhile.”  Ginny sniggered.  “Let’s just say we had a discussion out by the lake.  He may need some, ah, time to collect himself.”

“Oi!  Ginny!” Ron said raising his eyebrows.  “What did you do?”

“Nothing, Ron.  I did nothing.”  Ginny said as she continued up the staircase.  “Tell mum I’ve gone upstairs.”

“Whatever,” her brother said dismissively.

Ginny left her brother behind and wondered what Hermione could possibly want in the library.  The library was as demolished as the rest of the school — she wasn’t likely to find anything useful there.  Curious, she wound her way through scattered debris on the fourth floor and made her way into the cavernous room.

“Hermione?” she called out, listening to her voice reverberate through the stacks.  Hearing no reply, Ginny advanced farther into the room noting its sinister ambiance.  “Hermione are you here?”  Not convinced she was entirely alone, she glanced around the room to survey her surroundings.  She lit her wand and stepped precariously through the aisles to search for her friend.  She jumped skittishly when she heard a cry and a thunder of books crash in the Restricted Section.  Fearing the worst, Ginny skirted her way around the topsy-turvy tables and blown-over chairs until she found the source of the disruption.

“Hermione?  Hermione, are you quite all right?” Ginny asked with a worried look on her face.  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Hermione quite so agitated; Hermione looked like it was the last night of revision for her N.E.W.T.s.  She was surrounded by mounds of soggy books; some of which were opening and closing themselves indiscriminately, a few were making horrid noises and others were trying to escape.  Ginny knew Hermione had no tests to revise for; she was startled by her friend’s feverish studying.

“Thank God, Ginny…” Hermione huffed.  “I need you to take this stack of books,” she said, levitating a stack of very large manuscripts, “and mark every page where you see a Time-turner mentioned.”  She dropped the stack at Ginny’s feet and immediately returned her attention back to the volume she was flipping through, dismissing Ginny’s presence entirely.  “Something…I’m missing something.  It’s just got to be here!” she exclaimed.

“Hermione!” Ginny bellowed, forcing the bushy-haired witch to pry her attention away from the scatter of books surrounding her.  “What are you on about?” she asked, confused by Hermione’s heated mumbling and anxious page-flipping.

“Something for Professor McGonagall…” Hermione said, waving her hand as if to pooh-pooh the seriousness of her assignment.  “Really, it’s nothing…”

Ginny narrowed her eyes suspiciously at her friend.  “Oh, this wouldn’t be the same ‘Let’s-go-back-in-time’ Harry project, would it?” she asked sarcastically.

 “Oh my!  You know?” Hermione gasped, looking as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.  She jumped up, causing her to scatter stray pieces of torn parchment and spill a bottle of ink from which she had been cautiously dipping a broken quill to make notes.  “Ginny, something is not right about this…I desperately need your help!” she implored by grabbing her friend by the shoulders and looking beseechingly into Ginny’s eyes.  “At first, the plan didn’t bother me; it had holes but it seemed like McGonagall had worked it through…” she rattled.  “But the more I think about it, the more I’m bothered.  Dumbledore has used me to slow Harry up before…why wouldn’t he assume I’d do the same thing again?” Hermione hesitated, appearing more like she was talking to herself than to Ginny.

Ginny drew her eyebrows together and gave Hermione a blank look.  “Hermione, calm down, you’re not making any sense.”

Sensing Ginny’s frustration, Hermione stopped rambling, levitated an overturned table and two chairs to the clearing where they were sitting and conjured a blackboard, which she hung in the air behind the table.  She motioned impatiently for Ginny to sit.  Mumbling a spell, she used her wand like chalk and began to draw a complicated flow chart.  “I’m going to assume,” she started matter-of-factly, “that Harry has every intention of telling you exactly what’s happened over the course of the last year.”  Hermione stopped and looked to Ginny, who nodded affirmatively.  “Unfortunately, telling you everything will take days — we don’t have days.  I’m not sure we have hours — but something is not right about this, and we mustn’t let Harry make a terrible mistake because McGonagall has taken issue with how she handled the events leading up to the battle.”

Understanding she may be in over her head, Ginny simply nodded and waited for Hermione to continue outlining her discussion on the blackboard.

“The story…The Tale of Three Brothers — you know it, right?” Hermione asked.

“You mean the fairy tale mum used to tell us when we were little?” Ginny asked skeptically.

“Yes!  Ron said the very same thing!  Anyway, that story is in the book Dumbledore left me.”

“That story is in The Tales of Beedle the Bard?” Ginny asked, still not sure where Hermione was leading her.

“Ginny, that is no story.  It’s true.”

“Hermione, you’re mental.  It’s just a children’s story…” Ginny laughed.

“No, Ginny, you must listen.  The story is true.  The three brothers were the Peverells.  One is buried in Godric’s Hollow.  That’s partially how we started piecing this together.  Harry and I saw the mark on Ignotus Peverell’s grave the night we went to find James and Lily Potter.”

“Mark?”

“Grindelwald’s mark — only it’s not really Grindelwald’s mark.  It’s a symbol that stands for the Deathly Hallows.  The three Deathly Hallows.”  Hermione emphasized her point by drawing a circle, enclosed it in an equilateral triangle and dissected it down the center with a single line.

“Hallows?”

“The three things from the story, Ginny — the wand, the stone and the cloak,” Hermione emphasized, sounding very much like she was talking to a three-year-old.  “The pursuit of the Deathly Hallows is a quest.  Both Grindelwald and Dumbledore tried to find the Hallows…for that matter, so did Xenophilius Lovegood.  It’s the symbol he wore on his robes at Bill and Fleur’s wedding.”

“I still don’t get it, Hermione.”

“Whoever is in possession of all three Hallows is supposed to be the Master of Death.”

Ginny was dumbstruck.  She was still confused, but Hermione’s anxiety level had risen to a dangerous point and she wasn’t about to disturb her thought process.

“What we never realized — all these years — Harry has had one of the Hallows since Dumbledore gave it to him Christmas of his first year.”

“The invisibility cloak?  It was Dumbledore who gave him the cloak?” Ginny said, awestruck.

“Yes!  Think about it — you’ve never seen another quite like it, right?”

“Well, no, now that I think about it…” Ginny muttered.

“The two other Hallows are the Elder Wand — which was Dumbledore’s wand — and the Resurrection Stone.  Dumbledore wore the stone in a ring most of last year.”

“That awful, broken ring?”  Elder Wand…Elder Wand…Ginny thought to herself.  The Elder Wand had come up again.  Was Hermione telling her that Dumbledore’s wand was the wand from the story?  The Elder Wand was a Hallow?

“Yes…the awful, broken ring he hid inside the snitch he willed to Harry.”

“That stone was inside the snitch?  Harry has two Hallows?” Ginny asked doubtfully.

“Ginny, Harry is the rightful master of the Deathly Hallows.  At one point he had all three.  He replaced Dumbledore’s wand yesterday.”  Ginny looked like she might faint.  “But we’re getting away from my point.  I’m sorry I had to lead you through all this, but it’s necessary for you to understand why I’m concerned about McGonagall.” Hermione clarified.  “Dumbledore spent his life searching for ways to overcome death.  Why would he devote his lifetime to the conquest of death if he could simply use a Time-turner to go back?  It’s too easy.  He would have known that.”

“I don’t know…” Ginny said, still looking dazed.

“The Philosopher’s Stone…he and Nicholas Flamel devoted years to develop that stone.  Dumbledore wore the Resurrection Stone on his finger all last year!  If it’s so easy to overcome death, why didn’t he use the Time-turner to go back and save Sirius?  Surely he wouldn’t have wanted Harry to have to suffer needlessly?”

“No, I agree.”

“There’s something else that sticks out in my mind.  Our first year during Christmas holiday Harry found a mirror—it’s called the Mirror of Erised.”

“You mean the one where Ron saw himself as Head Boy holding the Quidditch Cup?”

“Yes, that’s the one.  Harry spent several nights sneaking to see the mirror — he saw his parents there.  Dumbledore caught him.  He told Harry ‘Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible,’ or something similar.  He also told Harry ‘It does not do to dwell on dreams.’” Hermione remembered.  “Looking back, I think he’s been telling us all along.  There is no way to avoid death.  I think that also includes grieving the ones we lose to it.”

Enraptured, Ginny stared intently at Hermione.  “Go on…”

“Dumbledore gave me the book The Tales of Beedle the Bard because he knew I would study it.  He knew I would follow my instincts if I found the clues he left me there.  He did it on purpose to slow Harry down — to make him think. You know Harry’s never thought things through — he acts.”

“Yes, I do know that.” Ginny agreed.

“Dumbledore used me as a buffer.  I think he’s doing it again.  Harry told us he didn’t say a single word while McGonagall asked him about doing this.  Why?  Dumbledore’s been talking to everyone else!  Don’t you reckon he’d have piped in with his opinion?  Especially if he thought it was a good idea?”

“Well, yeah.  That would seem to make sense.”

“Of course it would!  But here’s what makes the whole thing bad — one tiny change in the events of the battle could have a catastrophic affect on the ultimate outcome!

“The other critical thing you don’t know is about Voldemort.  He made Horcruxes.”

“What are Horcruxes?”

“They’re pieces of his soul.  He made them to insure he would never die.  He hid parts of his soul in random objects.  Your diary was one.  While we were gone we destroyed a locket…the locket, well it affected Ron…it was actually quite terrible.”

“Yes, Hermione, I know.  He left you before Christmas, didn’t he?”

Hermione gasped.  “You knew?”

“I did,” Ginny admitted warily.

“We took turns wearing the locket because we couldn’t risk losing it before we figured out how to destroy it,” Hermione recounted with a wistful look on her face.  “While Ron wore the locket he became…he became like someone else.”

“Yes, I know exactly how that feels,” Ginny said with a distasteful look.

“It was the piece of Voldemort’s soul that did it — just like what happened with you and the diary.  Voldemort made six of them.”

“Six!”  Ginny shrieked.

“Yes, six.  Harry had to destroy all of them before Voldemort could be vanquished.  What he didn’t know until just a few nights ago was that there was a seventh Horcrux — and it resided inside his scar.”

“His scar!  Harry’s been carrying ‘round part of Voldemort’s soul since he was a baby?” Ginny cried, dismayed.

“When Voldemort tried to kill him as a baby the spell backfired.  His soul was unstable because he had split it so many times; he inadvertently split another…it lodged itself inside Harry’s scar.  Voldemort never knew it happened.”

“Holy mother of Merlin.”

“That’s why the prophesy was worded ‘neither can live while the other survives.’”

“The prophesy was real?” Ginny asked with wide eyes.

“Harry had to sacrifice himself to Voldemort in order to rid himself of the Horcrux.  Otherwise he would never have been able to kill him — Voldemort wouldn’t have been completely human.”

“Oh my…” Ginny croaked.

“I’m getting off track again,” Hermione rambled.  “Three Horcruxes were destroyed two nights ago.  Ravenclaw’s lost diadem; Nagini, Voldemort’s snake; and Harry’s scar.  If Harry goes back and alters the events inside the school…well, it could mean the Horcruxes aren’t destroyed.  And if the Horcruxes aren’t destroyed, well, Harry could be killed.”

To further emphasize her point, Hermione continued to elaborate.  “If Fred hadn’t been killed in the blast, your mum wouldn’t have been so upset.  When Bellatrix came into the school and threw that Avada Kedavra at you, well, your mum might have reacted differently.”  Ginny choked, realizing what Hermione was trying to underscore.  “When your mum killed Bellatrix Lestrange, well I think that was the final piece of the puzzle that allowed Harry to finally finish the job.”

Hermione stopped and looked at Ginny indicating her explanation was complete.  “There’s so much more to all of this — I’m afraid I haven’t truly done any of it justice.  But we really must get back to researching the effects of the Time-turner…we haven’t much longer!”

Queasy from the implications of everything Hermione had just explained, Ginny jumped from the chair.  “I’m so sorry Hermione.  I’ve got to go.”