A/N: Okay, so I know it's really only been like, four hours since I posted the last chapter. But the response is a bit disheartening. :/ On Chapter 18 there were as many page hits as any other chapter and only 4 reviews so far. 4 reviews for 1200 hits. Honestly, it's not like I'm going to stop posting this story if the reviews slack off, but they are very encouraging. I've taken some time off of updating this story at FF.net to edit each chapter for Portkey, and seeing as the story's a bit different now I do very much appreciate the feedback. Please, even just a few words are appreciated, and I always welcome constructive criticism.
Anyway, for those of you who haven't yet picked up on who Voldie's abducted to be his new secret weapon, here's the answer. This is a very Weasley-oriented chapter, with just a bit of H/Hr at the end. Necessary plot development, I'm afraid.
Disclaimer: Honestly, if someone wants to sue me for the Potterverse at this point, go ahead. Clearly it's not mine, never has been, and I just like to write my own versions of the stuff. Now, if someone happens to back a car over JKR and Harry Potter is up for grabs… I'll be the first one to jump at the chance. Promise.
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Deep inside Voldemort's chamber at Riddle Manor, the room was empty save for one lone, small figure curled up in the corner. She was still very much chained to the wall, and was far too weak to struggle against her bonds. The Dark Lord had left her alone for the night, off on a mission with his Death Eaters.
A few small tears slipped from the corners of her eyes as she surveyed what she felt was her prison cell. The walls were damp, dark stone; the floors a slippery slate that never allowed her bare feet enough purchase to stand upright. The room was bare with the exception of the overly large throne directly across from the doorway. It was ornately carved black walnut, with an emerald green pillow for a seat cushion. Ordinarily she would have found the Dark Lord's taste in his seating arrangements a tad pompous, but for the last forty-eight hours any malignant thoughts towards him caused her a great deal of pain.
She remembered being administered a potion, and felt that she knew the man who had given it to her. Her brain was so addled that she couldn't recall her own name, let alone the man's name at that point. Ever since the scarlet liquid had run down her throat, she had felt like her actions were completely out of her own control. The majority of the time she couldn't even remember what her actions were.
Struggling to raise herself up, to see if there was a way she could break free from the chains, the girl panicked. The door to the chamber was slowly sliding open. She slumped back down against the wall again, attempting to appear vaguely catatonic. She casually flung her right hand outwards, hoping her pose looked random. Spotting ink stains on her skin, she felt confused. She didn't recall writing any letters recently, so why were there dark blotches on her fingertips?
A dark figure strode into the room, swathed in a massively elegant black cloak. He wore no hood or mask; his own face was terrifying enough. His eyes travelled up and down her limp body, appreciating how thorough Snape's potion had been. "Ah, Ginny Weasley. How nice of you to join us," Lord Voldemort hissed, an evil grin spreading across his face. He glided over to her, his wand at his side. "I trust you sent that letter to your parents like you were instructed?"
A confused expression slid across Ginny's fine features. She'd seen the ink stains on her fingers but she didn't recall writing a letter. Opening her mouth to speak, Voldemort cut her off before she had a chance to say anything.
"Don't remember, do you?" he said smoothly. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small glass vial. There was the tiniest amount of scarlet potion in the bottom of the glass. He dangled the potion in front of her face, watching her eyes widen in fear.
Ginny was more terrified than she had ever been in her entire life. She couldn't remember much of anything she had done in the past couple of days, and was beginning to realize that this is how she had felt in her first year at Hogwarts, when Tom Riddle had possessed her through his diary.
"Familiar feeling, isn't it?" he asked, his snake-like face contorting into a gruesome smile. "It's called the Obeir Potion. The effects are extremely similar to the Imperius curse in that you will be forced to do my bidding. However, you will not remember what you have done in the case of anyone questioning you. You will answer only to me from now on, until I release you. You will not be able to tell anyone about the potion, nor will you be able to overcome its effects. Any negative thoughts or actions towards myself will cause you excruciating pain, similar to the Cruciatus curse. If you fail to succeed in the task I set for you, you will die. Very similar to the Avada Kedavra curse actually. It's quite a handy potion, if you think about it. It combines the effects of all three supposed 'Unforgivable Curses' into one simple potion. You will be the most obedient servant the wizarding world has ever known."
Two tears slid from each of Ginny's eyes, marking a trail on her dusty cheeks. She bravely raised her face to meet the Dark Lord's eyes. "Why me?" she asked. It was a simple question, but after hearing his explanation of what the potion was doing to her, she had to know. Even if he refused to answer her, it was worth a try to ask.
Voldemort cross the room back to his throne and reclined, getting comfortable. Ordinarily he did not allow such lengthy conversations, but given the girl's importance to his success and the fact that if he told her to forget the conversation, she would, he nearly jumped at the opportunity to gloat. "You can get close to Potter in ways that myself and my minions never can," he admitted. "Pettigrew was a dismal failure. He concealed himself as a rat for years and never truly proved useful until my rebirth. Any attempt made by any of the Malfoy family has clearly gone sour. Quirrel was nothing more than a host for my soul, and the basilisk certainly wasn't going to make friends with him. Barty Crouch Junior wasn't much good either. Yes, he managed to impersonate Alastor Moody all year, and he still managed to corner Potter after the failure in the graveyard, but he was found out. Every attempt I've ever made to kill him has gone sour, and it's because I was using the wrong people."
"And you think I'm the right person?" Ginny began to feel more hatred for the Dark Lord than she'd ever felt before. Naturally, due to the Obeir potion, this caused her an excruciating amount of pain. She gasped as she let her mind go blank, her eyes welling up again at the pain.
"Hurts, doesn't it?" he asked slowly. Not letting Ginny answer, he continued his explanation. "The trouble with all of my plans, dear girl, was that I was going about it in the wrong way. I was using people who had a minor place in Potter's life to get to him. When I planted that vision of Sirius Black in his mind it was the right way to go about things. Use someone who was close to him. I'd actually planned to use the Obeir Potion on him but then the stupid man went and got himself killed. I waited and watched, trying to decide who to use, when Draco Malfoy passed word to Severus Snape of your relationship with Potter." He paused to wag a mocking finger at her. "Tut tut, Miss Weasley. Flinging yourself at boys in the common rooms? The entire school heard of that, no doubt, and the two of you openly flaunted your relationship for the remainder of the semester. Whatever would your dear mother say if she heard how her darling, innocent daughter threw herself at the great Harry Potter?" He laughed, but it came out as more of a hiss. "I daresay she'd be disappointed. It is through your relationship with Potter than I plan to succeed."
Ginny's mind was reeling, but she did her best to control her thoughts. She knew through Harry's previous experiences that Voldemort was not only an excellent Occlumens, but he was pretty good with Legilimency too. One nagging thought at the back of her mind continued to remind her that she and Harry had no relationship. Not even a friendship now, if Hermione had revealed the love potion fiasco to him like she suspected the older witch would. She wouldn't let Voldemort find out about that. It was bad enough that she had already put Harry's life at risk with the love potion. She wouldn't let him find out about Hermione and attempt to use her, too. Ginny decided that she needed to throw the psychopath off track. "Why didn't you go after my brother? They're best mates," she reminded him, feeling as though she was chastising the scariest man in the wizarding world for making the wrong selection.
"Too easy," he said simply. "Not to mention you left the house first. I'd considered using your brother, but I very much doubt that he would be able to get Potter all to himself. He's also not as talented as you are. Your magic is much more powerful than his, which is why you were the better, more logical choice."
"What does it matter which one of us is more powerful? I know you want to kill Harry yourself; you probably just want me to kidnap him for you!"
"How right you are, Miss Weasley. I would not allow you the pleasure of killing Harry Potter. Oh no. I have sought revenge on that miserable boy for years, and I will not be foolish enough to order you to do it for me. You will bring him to me, however. I think it is high time we end this particularly lovely little chat we're having, and get on with your instructions."
Ginny paled, realizing that she would have no choice but to bring Harry directly to Lord Voldemort, and therefore, to his death.
"You are going to make a Portkey. I will show you how. This Portkey will activate only when you and Potter are both touching it. It will bring the two of you directly to my chamber, where I will kill him. This Portkey will be hidden in a private area of your choosing, where you are to bring Potter under the pretence of seduction. You are forbidden from disclosing to anyone your orders, or the fact that you are under the influence of the Obeir potion. Even Veritaserum will not be enough to break the potion's hold on you. You will act like a normal, teenage girl. The only time Potter, or anyone for that matter, will be aware of what you are doing is when his hand and yours are both on that Portkey. There are no loopholes in my orders so don't even waste your time trying."
Ginny couldn't help but smirk. Clearly, Voldemort was not amused. "I don't have a wand," she said. "I gave up magic."
Voldemort raised an eyebrow at her. "I was wondering why you had not been captured with your wand, but I had assumed you simply lost it in the struggle. No matter, I can easily get you another one."
"Maybe you misheard me," Ginny said, finding the courage to stand and face the Dark Lord. "I. Gave. Up. Magic. Your plan isn't going to work, because Harry will notice that something is wrong with me, and he'll send me back to my parents so that they can 'help me' sort things out!"
Feeling much like a teenager himself, Voldemort couldn't help but roll his eyes at her. "Oh, please. Unless you went to the Ministry of Magic, filled out and filed several forms including a signed contract stating that you had officially given up your magical abilities, you haven't given up your magic. Unless they snapped your wand, with your consent, and burned the remaining pieces, you're still capable of performing spells."
Her eyes widening, Ginny realized she really was in trouble. She had no idea that there was that much worked involved in giving up magic.
Voldemort cackled. "Stupid girl," he said, truly amused by her ignorance.
"I-I snapped my own wand!" she declared, clinging to her last threads of hope.
Shaking his head, the Dark Lord rose from his seat. "And you think that witches and wizards better than you haven't accidentally sat on a wand and snapped it in half? I've heard that your brother's wand was broken at some time throughout his Hogwarts career, and Spellotaped together. He still managed to use it, even though it malfunctioned quite a bit. The Malfoys found it highly amusing. Something about how even hand-me-downs couldn't bear to be in the possession of a Weasley." He smiled his macabre grin again as he watched Ginny's face darken. "I will get you another wand, and you will obey my orders. Need I remind you of the consequences? I have officially given you instructions now. If you do not complete the task, you will die. It's that simple."
Voldemort headed towards the chamber door, not caring that the young witch had been reduced to tears. "I will return, Miss Weasley. And you will follow instructions. You have no choice."
He exited the large stone room, leaving Ginny to sob wholeheartedly as she accepted her fate.
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Dearest Ronald,
I must admit that I was not entirely saddened to read of your and Hermione's break-up. She never really was right for you, you know. Constant bickering is not the secret to a successful relationship. At least, that's what Dad always tells me. Honestly, Ronald, I can't believe you couldn't see for yourself that she and Harry were made for each other. Although I suppose that, at the time, Hermione was right when she said you have the emotional range of a teaspoon, I don't think that applies any longer. Perhaps, you have now graduated to a full tablespoon. (In case you weren't sure, that was an attempt at a joke-har har.) Back to Hermione, I have to admit that I am surprised that you two even got together in the first place. I thought that you were attracted to, well, attractive girls such as Lavender Brown and Fleur Delacour. Not to say that Hermione is unattractive, but she most definitely isn't a Lavender or a Fleur. Anyway, if she really is with Harry now she certainly isn't coming back to you. As dismal as that may sound, trust me, Ronald. It's for the best.
On another note, it feels good to know that our communications this summer have been helping you get along. Though I certainly wouldn't think that conversing with me would make one feel sane (I must admit that most people find quite the opposite), it is a nice feeling knowing that our friendship is making the summer more bearable for you. Please, try to put up with your mother as long as you can. She really does love you, and now that you're the only one in the house, she has no one but your father for companionship. I might add that I am concerned about Ginny. When I received your owl I immediately sent a note to her, asking if she was okay. My father's owl returned immediately after, still holding my note to her. Wherever Ginny is, she's Unplottable. Please do let me know if you hear more from her, and I'll do the same if she chooses to write to me. I would have thought she'd come to me, seeing as we are friends. I don't know of anyone else close to your home that she would stay with.
I suppose now would be a good time to address your last paragraph. I know I'm less than perfect, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. After all, would a girl with radish earrings and a cork necklace make it into a fashion robe ad in Witch Weekly? I doubt it. I'm not perfect, I'm just me. I'm happy you can accept that. I must admit, I would not have hurt you in the manner that Hermione did, but also bear in mind I'm not Hermione, and I'm sure that she also wasn't intending on hurting you by falling for Harry. I look forward to seeing you again at Hogwarts as I, too, have several things that I would like to say to you.
Write soon, and please, for Merlin's sake, don't get mad at your mother for her actions. Be glad that you still have a mother to smother you. I don't, and I think it would be quite the experience that I have missed out on.
Pig was happy to wait for my reply, by the way. He had several owl treats, so I suspect he'll fall right asleep when he gets back to the Burrow.
Luna
Ron sat back on his bed with a sigh. Luna's latest letter had arrived only moments earlier, and already Pig was fast asleep on his perch next to Ron's bed. He shook his head at the tiny owl, wondering if he would ever fully grow into his adult size. Ron quickly realized that he was focusing more on a sleeping bird than on his letter from Luna. He hated to admit it to himself, but she was right. Bickering was no way to have a relationship, and he and Hermione would have likely torn each other's throats out before they stopped fighting. Ron was slightly upset to realize that Luna thought of him as shallow and being interested in girls primarily on their appearance. Hadn't he proved that wrong by dating Hermione?
He tried to refocus his mind on the nice things she had said. She was happy that their letters were helping him, and that made Ron happy. The second to last paragraph made him feel guilty about all the complaining he had done over his mother. Luna's mother had died when she was nine, and here he was complaining to her about how his was spending too much time with him. He felt like a complete git, but was quickly cheered by the realization that she had admitted there were things she also wanted to tell him face to face at Hogwarts. Ron wanted more than anything to go and visit Luna, as she didn't live that far away, but he knew that his mother would have a fit given that Ginny had run off. She might suspect that he would do the same thing, and he didn't want to put that kind of stress on her.
Instead he resigned himself to writing yet another letter to Luna when he was interrupted by a quiet knock on his door. "Ronald?" a female voice came through the thin wood. It certainly wasn't his mother as his name had been heavily tainted by a French accent.
"Fleur?" he replied, curiously opening the door.
The tall, blonde beauty stood at his door, and Ron was temporarily stunned. Her being half-Veela had a tendency to do that to him.
"Ronald, I was 'oping perhaps we might talk?" she asked, walking past him into his bedroom as he stared at her. "Eet is about the wedding," she said, sitting on the edge of his bed.
Ron was still staring open-mouthed at his brother's fiancée, hardly believing that she'd voluntarily entered his bedroom, let alone sat on his bed.
Fleur giggled, realizing the effect that she had on the younger wizard. "Why, Ronald, eet appears as though you 'ave 'ad a Confundus Charm put on you!"
Ron stared some more.
Pointing her wand at Ron, Fleur muttered a few words. Ron quickly looked away, clearly embarrassed.
"Eet is a simple spell," she explained. "I 'ad to use it on your brother, Bill, to get 'im to calm down enough for our first date!" she laughed, patting the space next to her on the bed. "Sit!" she commanded. "I 'ave to ask you a favour."
Ron nodded. Even with the spell Fleur had used on him, which apparently counteracted the Veela DNA running through her blood, he was still stunned that such a beautiful woman wanted to talk to him. He could barely form words. "Wh-what can I p-possibly do for you?" he asked, stammering in astonishment. Fleur needed a favour from him?
She nodded, the smile disappearing from her lips. "Eet is about Gabrielle," she said, referring to her younger sister. Ron remembered the pretty young witch, having helped her out of the Hogwarts Lake during his fourth year when Harry and Fleur were competing in the Tri-Wizard Tournament. "She is going to be my maid of 'onour, and though traditionally she would dance with the best man, both Bill and I felt that Charlie is too tall and too old for 'er. We were-I was 'oping that you would take Gabrielle to our wedding as your date. No romantic feelings towards 'er required, I might add, but she would be more than 'appy to go with you. Charlie would steel be ze best man, ov course, but I thought perhaps you would like to dance with Gabrielle."
Ron was stunned. He had figured that he would be attending the wedding with Ginny, based on his mother's plans for the wedding ceremony and his and Ginny's positions in relation to Fleur and Bill. They would both be second, after Gabrielle and Charlie, meaning that they would walk down the aisle together and dance together at the ceremony. He had never, in his wildest dreams, imagined that a half-Veela witch who was close to his age would want to talk to him, let alone dance with him and be his date for the wedding.
All thoughts of Luna forgotten, Ron nodded vigorously. "I'll do it!" he said, restraining himself from punching a celebratory fist into the air. His confidence boosted, Ron was able to act normally in Fleur's presence for a short while. "What are you doing here, anyway?"
"Your mother sent me an owl about some plans she had made for ze wedding, and I wanted to look them over. She's gotten this crazy idea into 'er 'ead about the cake…" Fleur rattled on about his mother's ideas as Ron nodded in agreement with whatever she said. He was still mentally processing that he would be Gabrielle's date to the wedding. He had seen pictures of Bill with Fleur's family, and had seen how much Gabrielle had grown up in the three years since he'd last seen her. She was certainly able to compete with Fleur in the looks department.
"Ron! Fleur! Dinner's ready and Bill's already started making a grab for the food. You might want to hurry!" Molly Weasley's voice echoed in Ron's small bedroom.
Ron's stomach growled loudly, as if on cue. He quickly forgot about Gabrielle, as he had about Luna, and bounded down the stairs to the kitchen. Fleur could barely keep up with him, but when the smell of Mrs. Weasley's cooking reached her nostrils, she was matching Ron stair for stair into the kitchen.
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Hermione let out an exaggerated yawn, closing her book and setting back on the shelf. She and Harry had spent yet another day training in the exercise room and then researching in his parents' library. She had been delighted to discover books on nearly every subject imaginable, but as it was getting late, she was more concerned with getting to bed.
She crawled across the floor and tugged at the book Harry was intently reading. The last few hours, Harry had begun to exhibit very Hermione-like behaviour, gobbling up the literature almost as fast as she did. He was making detailed notes, his hands splotched with ink in his hurry. Hermione had pointed out that he was messing up the books, so Harry quickly performed a few cleaning charms to rectify the mess he'd made.
Hermione could've sworn that, at one point, she saw him hug a book to his chest before placing it back on the shelf. She'd simply shrugged it off as her eyes playing tricks on her, but was secretly positive she'd seen it happen.
As she tugged harder at Harry's book, he looked up at her with a cross frown on his face. Seizing her opportunity, Hermione snatched the book from his hands and put it back on the shelf.
"'Mione, I can't believe you did that!" he cried in outrage.
Hermione looked at him in confusion. "Did what?"
Harry's lower lip began to tremble as he fixed a distraught gaze on her. "You made me lose my page!" he cried.
She couldn't help but burst into laughter. "Oh, honestly, Harry, you're acting like me!"
Harry continued to sulk as she dragged him into their bedroom. Thinking that she could easily distract him with her lips, Hermione began to plant kisses all over his forehead and cheeks, making sure to avoid his lips in the hopes that it would make him want to kiss her even more.
Almost angrily, Harry pushed Hermione off of himself and crawled into bed, pulling the covers over his head.
"Harry?" she said tentatively, sliding in next to him. "You okay?" She was most definitely confused. Harry never passed up an opportunity to kiss her.
He turned to face her, his features twisted into a glare.
"Are you mad at me?" she asked, reaching a hand out to his. "What did I do?"
Harry glared at her some more, uttering his words as he turned over on his side and pulled the covers back up. "You made me lose my page," he muttered, closing his eyes.
Hermione was thoroughly bewildered. She sat in the dark, utterly confused. Rather than push the subject with Harry, she settled in for the night and tried to fall asleep.