Author's Note: I have always wanted more adventure and challenges for some of the more minor HP characters. :)

Expect violence, pain, manipulation, humor, and a little weirdness.

Please consider reviewing!

o o o

muscle to muscle and toe to toe

o o o

Ginny Weasley sat in the Headmaster's office and pulled at a loose thread on the sleeve of her Holyhead Harpies themed pyjamas.

She had woken up in one of the seats positioned in front of Dumbledore's desk about ten minutes ago, not quite sure how she'd gotten there. Of course, she was certain that similar incidents like this had been happening all year. There would be times she'd remember being in the Gryffindor common room, and then the next thing she knew she was waiting for breakfast in the Great Hall. No recollection of the twelve hours in between. But even trying to think about those lapses of memory was difficult for her. It was like trying to find a missing page in a book. Several pages.

The door to the office opened. Ginny craned around in the deep leather seat to see Professor Dumbledore entering. He smiled at her, eyes catching the room's firelight in a pleasant manner. "Hello, Miss Weasley."

"Professor! You're back," Ginny exclaimed. And becoming sheepish, then added, "I'm sorry for being in your office."

She didn't remember getting there.

Dumbledore was not at all surprised at her presence as he walked across the room. "Think nothing of it, Miss Weasley. But yes, as you say, I have returned to Hogwarts. It seems that my services were once again needed. Now, how are you?"

"I'm alright," she said. It was a simple answer. The standard answer. Her fingers found the loose thread again and she resumed pulling at it. Mumbling as an afterthought, "Ginny's fine, Professor."

"Ah," Dumbledore might have smiled. She thought she heard it in his voice but when she looked up again he was thoughtful. He said, "tonight has been very turbulent for the school."

He reached his desk and stood there, one of his hands tracing the edges of some of the interesting things littering its surface. Ginny had been watching them earlier. Silvery and odd, some bobbing and others spinning. She didn't know what any of the things did. At his touch, one cooed like an owl.

"Sir?" she asked, not following.

Dumbledore stopped behind his desk and picked up something that had caught his attention. It was circular and luminescent. It looked metallic and solid, but between his fingers its form was fluid and malleable. He continued walking until he had circled to the front of the table again. Dumbledore sank into the seat next to Ginny's. Wordlessly, he offered the metallic, rubbery thing to her. Ginny accepted it, surprised that it was warm. Not unpleasantly so, but in a comforting way. She pulled at it, stretching it into different shapes.

"This year has been a particularly trying one," he announced. After a beat, he amended, "I suppose, so was the last."

"Because of the Chamber, you mean?" Ginny asked. The Chamber of Secrets was all anyone had talked about throughout the year. She remembered that.

"What do you think of it?" Professor Dumbledore tilted his head, watching her carefully behind his spectacles.

Ginny tugged at the silver thing.

"It's scary. I guess," she said. "There's a monster inside, isn't there? Charlie would like that."

Dumbledore nodded and she definitely caught the quirk of his smile at the mention of her brother. "There was a monster inside the Chamber until tonight. Harry Potter, with the kind of luck that seems overly fond of the boy," –he meant the bad kind– "encountered it tonight. But, he was able to defeat it. With some help from your brother, Ronald."

This was not what she expected to hear. "Ron defeated the monster?" Harry she could believe. Ron was… "my brother, Ron?"

The Headmaster was smiling again. "The same."

"And they were in the Chamber of Secrets? Boy, is Mum ever gonna be thrilled to hear about that." Ginny sighed and sank deeper into her seat. Ron was getting into some fun adventures ever since meeting Harry. It used to be she was the one that got them into trouble.

Feeling a bit glum, she asked, "what was the monster?"

At the question, Professor Dumbledore furtively looked her over very closely. He said, "a Basilisk."

"Oh." All the word conjured was an image something like a snake. She didn't know so much about Basilisks. "And they're both alright?"

"Yes. And Madame Pomfrey has also been able to revive the other students."

"They were petrified," she said. Ginny vaguely remembered having learned that was the effect when meeting the gaze of a Basilisk indirectly. If a person saw them straight on, then they died. Just like that.

"Any other questions?"

Not related to the monster, Ginny thought. Her hands had stilled around the silver thing. She was watching the office ceiling instead. Someone had charmed it to look like stars. Not the night sky she knew, but stars from somewhere else. "Why am I in your office?"

Dumbledore spoke like he had known this question was coming. It made sense to her, he knew lots of things. "You have been sleepwalking this year. And I regret to say we did not notice sooner."

"I was sleepwalking tonight? …While Ron and Harry were fighting a monster, I was sleepwalking."

"Life is sometimes like that." Dumbledore withdrew a small vial from his sleeve. Or perhaps he summoned it. He handed it to Ginny. "This is a cure."

Ginny looked from the vial to Dumbledore's face. "Will that be enough? I think I've been sleepwalking a lot this year."

The Headmaster considered the vial. "I will make sure it is enough."

"I won't lose track of myself any more?"

"No Ginny, You will not lose track of yourself any more," he promised.

Ginny took the vial. It smelled a little like sugar water.

"Did I sleepwalk right into your office?"

"No. I thought it best you waited here until your parents arrived –with all that has happened tonight. Would you like to see them?"

"I can see them?" She said, perking up. Arthur and Molly Weasley were in the room a second later, having been waiting just outside the door. Ginny grinned at them, "Mum! Dad!"

They each had red eyes and faces and her mother's cheeks were shiny and wet. For some reason, Ginny was overwhelmed by the sight of them. She felt like – for some reason she thought she had felt like she would never see her parents again. They each had smiles for her but waited for a nod from the Headmaster before they approached her and collectively pulled her into a tight embrace.

"First our Ginny, then Ron," Molly was saying, throat rough with emotion, "you had no idea how worried we were."

"I'm fine, Mum," Ginny said, the words slightly muffled in the hug. "Really. Just some sleepwalking business. I'll be fine soon, really. Got the cure right here."

She watched her father glance at her Headmaster. "What a relief."

They said something more than just their words, Ginny was sure, she just didn't know what. It seemed serious. She raised her eyebrows, suspicious. "Is everything else okay?"

Dumbledore was the one to speak. "There's a feast down in the Great Hall, would you like to go?"

"Isn't it the middle of the night?" It felt like it was, at least.

"Early morning, but a pyjama soiree, you might have it." He reassured her with another smile.

Everyone was smiling at her. Watching, too.

"Sure," Ginny said. Her parents agreed to go with Dumbledore to see Ron and Harry in the hospital wing. Ginny at the last second returned the silver thing to its proper place. Her hands were restless with nothing to hold onto, and so she went back to pulling at threads. Outside the office, Professor McGonagall waited in the corridor for Ginny.

Before he walked away, Professor Dumbledore called her by her full name.

"Yes?" she said.

"Your cure?"

"Oh, right." She had slipped it into a pocket, distracted by her parents' arrival. In one go, she drained the vial. It tasted like sugar water, too. "Thank you, Professor."

"Have a good time at the feast. Your brother will be along shortly."

Ginny smiled this time. Her muscles felt tight in this position, though the sentiment seemed sincere enough.

"Thank you," she repeated, and followed her head of house to the Great Hall.

But even that night Ginny didn't quite fully remember. Not for several years.

o o o

Chapter One

Fear in Fours

o o o

The wind at platform Nine and Three Quarters was particularly brutal that day. Ginny's hair whipped across her face with a gleeful vengeance, tangling itself with her eyelashes and catching on the dryness of her lips. It was a dull and grey morning, weather and atmosphere in agreement. There was a static feeling in the air – as it was sometimes before a storm.

For the first time in all her trips to Kings Cross, her father was Ginny's only accompanying family that day. He stood a few paces away, expression distant, his gaze switching between ends of the platform, sometimes landing on questionable people. His clothes were more dishevelled than usual, and his hair was noticeably lighter and thinner than it used to be.

There was also an Order escort with them. Ginny recognised her as one of Charlie's old classmates. She had changed her hair since her time at Hogwarts, a short bob cut that complemented the curves of her face. As Ginny looked at her, the woman noticed and gave a small wink. Much like Tonks would have done.

Which unsettled Ginny in an odd way. She hadn't seen the other Auror since the wedding almost a month ago.

"Where is Tonks, Dad?" She asked, voice a bit rough from disuse.

Her father started at Ginny's question and turned to give her a blank stare. "What do you mean, Gin? She's…well, she's taken time off from work, hasn't she?"

"Why's that?"

The somewhat vacant stare gained an incredulous tinge, as if her father couldn't understand what she was getting at.

"Because of the baby," the other Order member said quietly, picking up on Ginny's ignorance.

"Baby," Ginny repeated dully, not immediately connecting the obvious. And then, "shit –baby?"

Tonks was having a child. With the war gaining momentum, Ginny had learned to suppress her excitement and so her confusion dwindled to a weary sense of disappointment. Feeling lame, she murmured, "I didn't… I should have congratulated her, then."

"I could have sworn Molly mentioned it," Ginny heard her father say to himself. But at this point her parents were so concerned with not telling Ginny anything about the war that they were forgetting to tell her anything at all. As preoccupied as they were with her well being, and she knew that they were, her mother and father were increasingly withdrawn from their daughter.

Ginny didn't mind — as the twins would have agreed – less attention meant more freedom. While she was only sixteen and still a student, Ginny had plenty of ideas to help the Order. She, Luna, and Neville had already covertly discussed their plans to continue Dumbledore's Army at Hogwarts. Just because Harry had his own missions to attend to, that did not mean everyone else was suddenly inept.

A magically modified 'Ah-HEM' interrupted Ginny's thoughts and she went on tiptoes to peek above the thickening crowd to locate the origin of the offending, and creepily familiar noise.

"Oh no," she and her father groaned simultaneously.

Teetering on a stool, in the exact likeness of a squat, pink toad, was Dolores Umbridge. In her falsely saccharine voice, she started to speak. "According to a Ministry decree, all students are to form a queue and provide identification before boarding the express."

Ginny was scowling and preparing to storm up to Umbridge when a heavy weight gripped her shoulder, halting her. It was her father; and with a grim expression, he steered his child towards the forming line.

"To think they are going this far," he said. "The raids are bad enough for the adults, but now the students as well?"

Ginny had a vague idea of the raids to which he was referencing. She wondered how the Ministry of Magic planned to handle the children, but needn't have bothered, for the answer was apparent soon enough. As her trio got closer to the train, she could her Umbridge's grating voice admonishing different students. "Begley, was it? And your father's background? …I see." — then, as an aside to someone else— "this one too."

To the line, Umbridge called, "next!"

"No, she isn't..." Arthur Weasley looked even paler than before. Ginny was certain it was from rage, as all the blood had gathered where he gripped his hat fiercely. "She's taking down their information! What does she plan to do with it at the school? Blood quarantine?"

The plan was essentially that, it turned out.

When Ginny approached the toad, Umbridge actually scoffed at the apparent conundrum she presented.

"Weasley," Umbridge breathed with all the joy one might have for excrement on the sole of a shoe. "While your family might be curious in its affiliations, there's no questioning your background."

"You would find having brains to be curious," chirped Ginny with a sweet smile of her own, causing her father to moan faintly in exasperation.

Umbridge reddened at this remark and glared down from her stool. "You should take care with your time at school, my dear little child. It would be a real shame for you not to reconsider certain affairs and affiliations while you're there."

The toad said this in her typical sugary tone, but the threat was all too clear to anyone within earshot.

"A real shame," Ginny remarked without any hint of sincerity.

"You will be up in front, Miss Ginevra," Umbridge said. Her bulging eyes narrowed into slits from the wide, stiff grin her face wore.

"Weasley is fine," Ginny corrected immediately, "and I'm capable of seating myself."

"Oh no, no, no. That won't do. Under Ministry orders, the school has decided to encourage students to interact with specially pre-determined groups that will inspire cohesive bonds to further the achievement capabilities of each child. You understand, don't you?"

There was no more room for argument, though her father attempted to protest. Ginny was forced into giving him a quick embrace and goodbye lest she was kept from boarding altogether.

"I'll write!" she promised before being directed further into the cars.

"You'd better not!" her father warned, clearly overcome with apprehension. Ginny felt the desperate smile she had conjured for his sake disappear just as she was pushed out of his sight.

A man who was almost familiar to her was in charge of leading Ginny to her approved car. He was tall and lean, and fairly young. His manner was very restrained. He snapped at her when she waved to Neville, grouching at her "brainless dawdling," and hushed her silent when she tried to deny his order for her to change into her robes so early on the trip. The train had yet to even leave the station.

"You're not to wear anything other than Ministry approved clothing when outside of your dormitory," was the official mandate he gave her. He stuck his hand out, offering a shrunken parcel of what she guessed were the new uniforms. "Now change and get into your group."

The man left her and turned down the car to bark at a group of bewildered Ravenclaws.

Ginny kept her expression carefully blank as she considered her required attire. Around her, other students had already changed into the new robes. There wasn't much of a distinction from the old Hogwarts' uniform, other than lining and trims that matched house colours. Absently, she ran her hand down the solid red thread outlining the close of her robe.

"You've got to be joking me. Weasley?"

Ginny, who had found her compartment some time later, looked up from her seat to see the person who had just joined her. Her stomach fell at Pansy Parkinson's pug-nosed face gaping at her from the door. Like most everyone, she was paler and thinner than Ginny remembered, but the older girl still had the same permanently cross expression framed by the warm blond locks for which she was known.

"Which one? The girl?" A male voice asked. Ginny knew immediately it belonged to Blaise Zabini, even before he nudged his friend into the small compartment. The boy was mostly much the same as he had been at all the Slug Club meetings she had been obliged to attend; coolly stylish and effortlessly arrogant.

"The pleasure is yours," Ginny said in a bored voice before turning to the window to wait for the train to depart from the station. No familiar people remained. She hid her frown, both at her father's hasty retreat and her apparent 'group members.' These two were Slytherins and likely connected to Death Eaters, but they were more an annoyance than any threat. The one time Ron had been right about Malfoy's mastermind scheming, none of the other Slytherins had even been involved.

"How is our fine Potter, little Weasley?" Pansy had situated herself on the seat opposite, and was currently training a curl around her wand. She smiled sweetly as Ginny regarded her. "Unfortunately not dead yet, we can assume. You're still coming to school even though he, evidently, is not."

Despite her lack of physical intimidation, Ginny still had to be careful about any information that could be gleaned from her reaction to Pansy's taunts. Luckily, the long summer had already dulled Ginny's infamous Weasley reactions.

"Harry dumped me," she said flatly, unleashing all the shallow teenage girl she could. "Why should it bother me what he's been up to?"

Pansy's sneer fell for an instant, an unidentifiable reaction flickering over her features.

Blaise was quick to fill the silence. He leaned forward in his seat, smoothing a crisp white sleeve cuff with a casual air, and took a long moment to find her eyes.

"Feeling bitter at all?" he asked, channelling his mother's charm.

"Only from present company."

"You should think about your position, Ginny. It appears your pack has sent you off on your own. You wouldn't want to spend your time at school feeling lonely." A set of perfect teeth flashed from behind a well practised, enticing smile. "Or hurting."

So this was the Ministry's plan: surround subversive people, like herself, with crafty Slytherins. For them to get information out of her, watch her movements, and potentially sway her allegiance. She refused to acknowledge Blaise's warning, and instead noted his continued attention to his sleeve.

"Something the matter with your forearm, Zabini? Got an itch?"

Had he been branded with the Dark Mark?

His hazel eyes found a spot of the floor. "Like I would mar my skin with such –"

"Blaise," Pansy snapped, finding her voice suddenly.

Ginny couldn't help her eyebrows as they inched upward, surprised. As careful as Zabinis were with vows, Ginny wondered what it meant that Blaise had neglected this one in particular.

Pansy recovered, glancing carefully at Ginny, "your tie is crooked."

"That's not the only thing that's crooked," Ginny supplied, earning a huff from the other girl.

Pansy gave her a flat stare. "Your humour is one toned and exhausting, Weasley. At least try harder."

Ginny would have laughed had it been an observation belonging to anyone else. Instead she felt a touch indignant and a little reprimanded and there was a smart urge to stick her tongue out. She changed the subject. "How many people in these groups, anyhow?"

"Four, maybe five," Zabini shifted a shoulder as a dignified sort of shrug. It was an answer they would all know soon enough, so he must have thought it harmless to respond.

"That'd be nearly a hundred groups." She wondered over the actual usefulness of so many cells.

"Not quite." The compartment door was blocked again. It had been left open and Ginny hadn't paid much mind to the occasional person passing it. Currently, Zacharias Smith was leaning on its frame. His robe was trimmed in an undisturbed line of bronze, but Ginny had never known a person with less Hufflepuff qualities. Pansy and Ginny shared a disappointed groan at Zacharias' arrival ("uuugh" and a skywards,"you're the worst!"), only to then glare at one another, each offended by the sudden commonality.

"Oh bugger off you lot," Zacharias grouched as he dropped onto the cushion next to Ginny. His nose lifted into the air as he looked over Blaise, probably imagining some sort of male competition in the equally posh boy.

"As I was saying," he continued, "I counted just about fifty or so groups. Half the school has opted out of returning this term."

"You can't be serious," Ginny demanded, although she was the only one. The Slytherins looked unsurprised. Even a little triumphant on Pansy's behalf.

"And there're few new Hogwarts Professors, as well. Apparently there's a new D.A. Professor."

Ginny shook her head. "You mean D.A.D.A.?"

"No, D.A." Zacharias actually gave a somewhat significant look to Ginny while reiterating this. Like Dumbledore's Army, she wondered. He clarified without her having to ask. "As in the Dark Arts."

"Well, that will be entertaining at the very least," Zabini offered with a snide upturn of his lips.

"Oh please," Ginny said, waving a hand. "It's a school. It's not like they can teach anything serious. They'll probably talk about hiccuping jinxes or something."

The conversation naturally dissolved into bickering from that point on, with Ginny arguing with everyone, including Zacharias. She figured, as blood traitors, she and Smith had been placed in the same group with the knowledge they didn't get on well. No support between them to form a bond against Blaise and Pansy.

"Like house points will matter! We're in a war!"

"Oh thank the skies above," Pansy said, interrupting Ginny's row with Zacharias. She hopped to her feet, foregoing suavity. "I never thought I'd be so glad to see the castle."

"Indeed. I thought I'd hex my head clear off if I had to listen to this nonsense any more." Blaise looked from Zacharias to Ginny like they were toddlers with a toy torn between them. He smirked. "Besides, with a Slytherin headmaster, there's no question as to who will win the cup."

"You're all mad!" Ginny brought a hand to her brow in frustration, ignoring her company. "This is pointless. When will you open your eyes?"

Pansy minimised her trunk with a flick of her wand and then rested her hands on her hips, giving Ginny a tight look. "When will you open your eyes, Weasley? You're an ignorant, aesthetically displeasing, poor blood traitor, but you're still a pureblood. Pick the right side and maybe your precious school year will be easier. You're just making this harder for yourself."

Without another word, but with one more loathsome look, Pansy left the compartment, beckoning Zabini to follow.

Ginny had the urge to pull out her own hair in frustration. "Is that really what it's like for them? Just thinking about their own good and burying their head in the mud when everything around them is falling apart?"

"What's wrong with looking out for yourself a little?" Zacharias asked honestly.

Ginny shoved him back into his seat as he tried to stand and left as well.

Once off the train, she tried to navigate through the nervous mass of people, looking hopefully for Neville or Luna. She couldn't make out anyone clearly in the evening haze. Without Hagrid's recognisable presence there to herd away firsties, it was difficult to orient herself at all. In his place, Ginny did notice, was a plump little witch —perhaps one of Umbridge's toad spores— croaking angrily over the students.

Ginny was staring incredulously at the awful, vaguely familiar round woman when someone grabbed at her arm. Instinctively, she broke their grip with a twist of their thumb and reached for her wand.

"Seamus!" she said, halting her movements.

"Ow, ow, thumb back, please..." With his sandy haired locks trimmed short and his face free of his typical grin, the seventh year boy didn't look himself at all.

"Oh, sorry!" Ginny quickly relented her grip.

In the time she had spent in his company, typically alongside Dean, she'd never seen Seamus so trim, lean and serious. But then, she realised belatedly, it was precisely that Dean was not around that Seamus was tense. Her stomach tied itself into a sour knot.

"No, I'm sorry. I tried calling your name, but the crowd, you know?" Seamus said. "Carriage?"

Ginny nodded vigorously and followed Seamus as he threaded his way between students. It occurred to her that there really was a discernible difference in the amount who had arrived for school this autumn as opposed to last. She couldn't believe how many people she knew wouldn't be back at all.

She wondered where Harry was at the moment.

Inside the carriage, both students were very aware of the possibility their conversation was not private. Even though it seemed they were alone for the ride, there was a strong sense of being watched. Avoiding Harry and other friends altogether as a topic, they talked about classes and whether or not they would have Hogsmeade outings.

"Who do you think the Prefects are this year?" Ginny asked just as the short trip ended. Seamus exited before her, holding out a hand to help her down from the carriage. Ron and Hermione were the seventh year Prefects, but were obviously both gone. She wondered if the Prefects from her year were among the missing half of the student populus.

"Beats me," Seamus answered. "If Umbridge had any say in it, all the Prefects are probably those Inquisitorial Squad prats."

Ginny snorted, but thought it wasn't actually too ridiculous a suggestion. "McGonagall would never allow that."

"As if it were up to her." Pansy and Blaise were standing outside the entrance doors, and had apparently heard the question.

"Lay off, Parkinson" Seamus warned, positioning himself between the two girls, sensing the hostility.

Pansy flashed a pretty smile instead. "You do know, Weasley, McGonagall didn't take over for Dumbledore."

Her cryptic message for Ginny was lost in the quick rush as the castle doors opened and students pushed inside. But they didn't stray far apart, because there was an immediate announcement for their assigned groups to meet again before the Great Hall would be opened. Both girls shared a contempt look with the other and stayed their feet almost defiantly.

Ginny let her eyes wonder over the castle interior to keep them from accidentally meeting the gaze of any of her company. She considered the tapestry of the Founders for a long moment, thought of the so-called virtues each had hoped to find in their houses, before switching her attention to the students once more.

"How is it all of the groups have at least two Slytherins?" Ginny asked aloud.

To her left, Zacharias spun around and a second later exclaimed she was right.

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Tell me again why you weren't sorted into Ravenclaw, Weasley."

"What does that mean?" Ginny immediately shot back.

Blaise answered, speaking aloud as he made the realisation. "There are more Slytherins because none of the muggleborn students have come back."

Zacharias turned once more and Ginny this time joined him as they each tried to place familiar faces. Her chest tightened uncomfortably. She said very quietly, "I hadn't noticed."

"And you're supposed to be their ally?" Pansy sneered. She flipped a lock of curled hair over her shoulder and physically turned from the circle they reluctantly formed.

"There are other students gone, too," said Zacharias. "Wayne's not here, either. His mother used to work under Scrimgeour, before…"

Before certain parties had infiltrated and taken over the ministry and Hogwarts, Ginny finished mentally. Aloud she said only, "yeah."

"A Weasley brat, what a non-surprise," said a raspy voice. Pansy visibly started at its sound. Ginny turned to identify the speaker. It was a man. He had a head of balding grey hair above shoulders that curled inwards. But it was his deeply set, beady eyes and slanted mouth that Ginny recognised. Just a few months ago he had been trying to curse her into oblivion.

"What are you doing here," she almost spat at Amycus Carrow.

"Ah-ah-aah," he tutted, very happily and in an unappealing fashion. "It's Professor Carrow."

"Why aren't we allowed into the Great Hall yet?" Zacharias asked, either ignoring or unaware of the anger Ginny was very thinly containing. Her fists curled so tightly that her arms began to shake all the way up to her shoulders.

Amycus didn't acknowledge the question.

"Mr. Zabini," he said, greeting Blaise. Blaise nodded his head and offered nothing else. Carrow stopped his eyes on Pansy next. What he might have thought to be a charming smile pulled at his lips. It turned Ginny's stomach. "Miss Parkinson, lovely to see you. As always."

The expression the man wore appeared to turn Pansy's stomach as well. Her eyes closed and she exhaled a long breath through her nose.

"Are you teaching here now, Mr. Carrow?" Pansy queried. It sounded polite enough, but her she seemed to have trouble looking at the man.

"He is," answered someone else. Ginny had a split second to think, wryly, that their little circle was gaining quite an audience.

And then she noticed Professor Snape had been the one to speak.

A second later and her wand was in her hands, pointed squarely at Snape's chest. She forgot about Carrow. Forgot about Pansy and Blaise. Forgot about loud-mouthed Zacharias Smith. All she remembered was that this man in the sight of her wand was the one who killed Professor Dumbledore. She remembered this and nothing else.

Snape was unaffected.

"Can't decide on a spell, Miss Weasley?" His drawl was as curt and somewhat disinterested as ever.

Ginny fumed. Unfortunately, he was right. She didn't know where to start. Which jinx? Which hex? What kind of punishment would be appropriate for this murderer? She didn't know. She just reacted, understanding, at the very least, she should always have her wand between herself and this traitor.

A muttered Expelliarmus and another second later, Snape was snatching her wand from the air.

"Brandishing your wand with intent to strike your Headmaster? Twenty points from Gryffindor," Snape admonished, a satisfied twist lifting his lips. "You're lucky I'm being generous on our first day back, Miss Weasley."

"What – ?" was all she managed, looking from her empty fingers to Snape's ugly face, and back to her fingers. Anger, fear, confusion. The long tamed Weasley temper made a tentative effort for return. She flung her arm out, pointing it again at Snape. Directly aimed on his heart. "You killed him."

She wanted to yell. She wanted every student in the over-crowded entrance hall to shut up and pay attention. This man killed Dumbledore, and she wanted them to know. But no one outside of an arm's reach was paying any attention. Even Blaise and Pansy seemed only mildly aware of the interaction. Pansy, in fact, had started shaping her fingernails with a transfigured lock of hair, almost as if trying to will herself very far away. Ginny swallowed, noticing her throat had gone dry.

Was she losing her mind? Was Ginny Weasley the only person in this room who knew what Snape had done?

How was he here?

"I'll tell," she said to Snape, something ugly in the pit of her stomach. She was barely conscious of herself beyond the buzzing between her ears. "I'll tell them where you are."

She would tell her parents. She would tell the Order. She would tell Harry. And they would come and squish Snape proper like the bug he was.

Snape's expression didn't change. He stepped forward and quickly closed the gap that had been safely separating them. Ginny tried not to lean away as she craned her chin up to meet the man's eyes as he loomed over her like a dark tower.

As a professor Snape had never scared her. In this moment she was terrified. Her eyes watered as she refused to look away.

"Oh yes, I'm sure you will tell them." He was hissing the words. "I've no doubt your lips are as loose as your legs. Go moan to your precious Potter. I'll be happy to meet him when he stumbles in, charging like a fool."

Ginny blinked back tears. It wasn't just water, she admitted to herself.

Professor Snape reached for her hand, his touch that of a corpse to the hot blood in her veins, and he pressed her wand back into her palm. "It's a good thing, Miss Weasley, you've returned to school. Perhaps you can learn what to do with this."

Stepping away and addressing Zacharias, Snape said, "the staff is finishing arrangements in the Great Hall, Mr. Smith. Now close your mouth already, you look like you're waiting for something to take roost in that obnoxious cave."

With a dramatic swish of robes, Snape walked away. Amycus Carrow slunk after him. Ginny didn't move. She willed her legs to stop trembling and her eyes to dry.

Wanted Killer Severus Snape was the Headmaster of Hogwarts. A known Death Eater, and someone who had tried to cast an Unforgivable on her, was now a professor at her school. She was stuck in the company of three people she very much disliked and felt the isolation of being an island in a vast sea. An ominous setting for the coming year, Ginny thought, and there was no comfort in the walls of her school.

"…I'm not the only one who heard Snape call her a slut, right?" Zacharias chimed in, as ever helpful.

Ginny wiped at her face and cast a bat-bogey hex at him. She earned another negative five points for her house.

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