Unofficial Portkey Archive

Disclaimer: I do not own anything of the Harry Potter universe, nor do I own any of the lyric bits. I make absolutely no money from playing with the characters.

A/N: Sorry for the long delay, I've been very, very ill. Quite a few people have asked me from time to time to clarify exactly how Kotone looks. She's about 4 ft. tall, shorter than most ten-year-olds. She has stark white, hair that falls just to her shoulder blades when relaxed. Her complexion is very, very pale… white almost to the point of appearing blue. She has four golden horns, two sticking out of her scalp just above her hairline, two protruding from her wide, square jaw, one on each side of her chin. She has hauntingly beautiful, almond-shaped violet eyes. Her thick-lipped mouth is disturbingly wide, extending across her face from ear to ear, with black teeth and huge, black fangs that extend beyond her lips. Her ears are in the usual place, except for being very long and pointed, much in the way of a Tolkienesque elf. Her frame is very thin and lithe, and she moves with almost impossible grace and speed when she has to. She has a very long, very thin white tail that is tipped with a bony, golden barb. I know there are a lot of artists out there who create fan art, I saw a spectacular image of Hermione and Harry from the fic, 'Forever Knight,' (one of my absolute favorite fics… read it, you won't be sorry!) and I'm curious as to how people view the little half-demon, so if anyone is so inclined… (Personally, I can't even draw a stick figure without it looking like a failed geometry project!) The song I chose for this chapter is very fitting. This was one of the very first songs the band I was in learned how to play. Believe me, you haven't heard this song until you've heard it performed by four girls in a teenage Japanese punk band! Anyway, I hope you like this chapter, and as always, I'd love to hear how much you liked or disliked it, so R & R & Enjoy!

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Chapter 21: Memories Can't Wait

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Do you remember anyone here?
No, you don't remember anything at all.
I'm sleeping, I'm flat on my back,
never woke up, had no regrets.

These memories can't wait.

Lyrics from the song. 'Memories Can't Wait' by the band, Talking Heads.

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After leaving Harry's room, Hermione made her way back to the Head's dorm and placed the book on her nightstand. She sat heavily on her bed and rested her face in her hands, recalling the despairing look on his face as she left. That look nearly broke her heart.

She may not feel the love for him, but she somehow knew that she still did. She knew she still loved him, but that love seemed to be like a nearly forgotten, quickly fading dream, the details of which were becoming murkier and less defined as time passed. Her brain told her she still loved him, still cared about him, even though her heart had seemed to have forgotten.

She tried to remember how it felt a scant few hours before, the yearning that burned in her soul when she stopped him in the corridor, the pride she felt at the time over his sensitivity about Kotone, the goblins and the house-elves. She recalled the way her breath stilled when he leaned in closer to her, the gentle firmness of his hands on her waist that caused her heart to flutter. How could it just disappear? How could those feelings just evaporate into nothing, like they never existed? It wasn't like the feeling of breaking up with someone, not that she had much experience in the relationship department, but it was more like the sadness, or maybe regret, of being suddenly reminded of a long-forgotten grammar school crush from years past. In any case, it was frightening.

Another thing that had been plaguing Hermione throughout the afternoon were the sporadic, unbidden memories that kept flashing through her mind. The strange thing was that she recognized the circumstances of the memories, but it was as if she were experiencing them through someone else's eyes. A blush coloured her cheeks as a vivid memory of her giving Harry a crushing hug after the first task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, but the perspective was from outside through a torn seam in the medical tent. The memory disappeared as quickly as it came.

Hermione took a deep breath, stood from the bed, and left the Head dormitory. She quietly made her way through the castle, out of the large front doors and out into the grounds. Minutes later, she stood just outside the front gates. She glanced back at the castle for a few moments, seeing the last remnants of the sun disappear behind the ramparts and parapets of Hogwarts, before she disappeared with a resounding crack. She stepped out from the utility shed in the back yard of her home in St. Osyth and quickly made her way across the wide patio to the sliding doors that led to the kitchen.

Hermione stepped into the darkening house and navigated through the quiet rooms, only pausing for a moment in the sitting room to look at the old grandfather clock nestled between a pair of overburdened bookshelves. It was already well after seven and, of course, her parents were still at the surgery. She made her way up to her bedroom and gave a quick greeting to Crookshanks and Hedwig, both of whom seemed very pleased to see her. Crookshanks wound his way around her legs and purred contentedly while Hedwig glided from her perch over to rest on her shoulder. The snowy owl let out a low, mournful hoot and nestled her head into Hermione's mass of hair.

Hermione gently stroked the owl's feathers and said to her, "Harry's at Hogwarts right now, but I don't really know how long we'll be staying there. Do you want to go see him, or would you prefer to stay here? I know the hunting is good here, and we'll probably come back here anyway, at least for a while."

Hedwig let out another sad hoot, but flew from her shoulder back to the perch she had set up just for owls. Hermione could somehow tell that she missed Harry, but seemed to be willing to wait for him. She refilled the tray of owl treats, and then refreshed the auto-open charm on her window before she pulled her trunk out of her cupboard, collected several sets of clothes, shoes and undergarments, and packed them away. She shrunk her trunk and placed it in her overnight bag along with her toiletries and a fresh set of towels.

Another brief glimpse of an odd memory hit her as she fastened her bag. She watched herself holding desperately to Harry, her eyes clenched shut, her face crushed against his back and her arms firmly wrapped around his torso as they rode Buckbeak the hippogriff past a window outside of the Gryffindor tower, as if she were looking at the scene from within the tower itself. It was a very brief memory, but as vivid as if it were happening right there before her eyes. She shook her head as if to clear it, then hefted her bag from the bed.

Hermione carried the bag into the guest room where Harry had spent the previous night to collect his trunk that was delivered from his room at St. Mungo's by the Order. After ensuring that all his things were gathered and stowed, she shrunk his trunk and placed it in the bag along with her own.

When she turned to leave the room, she noticed Harry's box of parchment that Tonks mentioned that had upset him so. She picked up the box, carried it over to the bed, sat down, and began to browse through the documents. Hermione might have been the cleverest witch of her age, but when it came to the legal and financial world of both muggles and wizards, she was woefully ill educated. She thought that many of the documents looked as if they were some sort of financial statements, investment portfolios and maybe some kind of investment holdings balance sheets, but she really couldn't be sure of what they all meant. She assumed that the documents told of what was in his vault before his uncle helped himself to Harry's future.

She couldn't stifle the growl of hatred that escaped her throat at that thought.

A few of the documents that she did understand were a set of property deeds in the Potter and Evans family names. She glanced at the deeds to Godric's Hollow, a place called 'Herring's Run Manor' in Essex, an enigmatically named place called 'Lily's Love Lagoon,' and of course, Privet Drive in Surrey. She found it strange that Grimmauld Place in London wasn't shown in the property listing. Harry had told her that he owned the house and property of number four Privet Drive, but the surreal incredulity she felt when she read the page that was attached to that deed that told of the huge monthly stipend that came from the Potter family vault. The stipend to the Dursleys that was supposed to pay for all utilities for the household, as well as a food and clothing allotment and a spending allowance for Harry came to over four thousand Pounds a month, tax-free.

She knew that Harry owned the Surrey property that the Dursleys lived in, but she had no idea that they were actually being very well paid to take care of Harry. A seething hatred for the family that had treated one of their own blood so cruelly burned within her. She could certainly understand why Harry became so enraged when he discovered their heinous duplicity. She remembered from the very few details he told of his life with the Dursleys that they habitually withheld food from him for days, would lock him in that stinking cupboard for weeks at a time, and constantly told him that he was a financial burden upon their household. She personally witnessed the deplorable state of Harry's dress, all worn-out hand-me-downs from his corpulent cousin, Dudley. She found it nauseatingly abhorrent that anyone could treat any child in that manner, much less a blood relative.

Hermione shook her head and quickly stood from the bed. She refused to allow the pity she was feeling for Harry to continue. He didn't need her pity, he needed her help and understanding. She gave up her bad habit of self-pity about her own lonely childhood long ago, knowing that it did nothing to help. She had everything she wanted while growing up, except for the affection from her parents that she had craved, but it was certainly better than the life Harry had lived, and she was going to make damned sure that he would never feel that despair again if she could at all help it.

She placed the documents back into the box, picked it up along with her overnight bag, and left the room. When she reached the bottom of the stairway, she could see that the lights were on in her parents' study. She softly knocked on the door and entered upon hearing her father beckon her into the room.

Her parents were seated at their respective desks, riffling through paperwork while munching on a set of club sandwiches that sat on a platter between them. Her father looked up from his work and gave her one of his rare smiles.

"Hi, Pun'kin, we didn't realize that you were home," said her father, "Did everything go well at the bank this morning?"

"Hermione smiled back at him and said, "Yes, everything went fine. I want to thank you again for allowing us to use the money, you have no idea how incredibly important it is."

Hermione glanced down into the box she was carrying and after a brief internal debate, came to a decision, "I was wondering if you could do us a favor and look through these documents and tell me what they all mean? I'm pretty sure these are the statements of Harry's estate that his uncle stole from him this past spring. I understand the deeds for the most part, but a lot of the financial paperwork is somewhat foreign to me."

She hefted the box of rolled parchment in front of her and set it down next to the platter of sandwiches. Alex drew one of the rolls, opened it, scanned down the sheet, then handed it over to his wife simply saying, "Jane, legal." He unrolled another and after a glance, he set it down on his own desk, saying, "Investment."

Alex quickly and efficiently sorted the parchments into several different piles with Jane getting all of legal and estate documents. He grabbed one pile and began to enter figures into a hastily created spreadsheet on his computer. His eyes never left the various documents and his hands nimbly navigated the keyboard, all the while explaining to Hermione exactly what the figures that he was currently working with meant and their significance to the entire portfolio.

After Jane received her stack of parchment, she began scanning each sheet carefully. Occasionally she would perform a search for some information on her computer, and other times would silently go to one of the many bookcases in the study and peruse some reference book.

A little more than an hour later, Alex was printing out numerous pages and Jane was finishing up with the last of the legal documents. Alex pulled the last page from the printer tray. He briefly looked it over before he looked up to Hermione and asked, "Okay, is there anything specific you want to know, or do you want a rundown of what I could make from it?"

"The bottom line," stated Hermione with an ireful frown, "I know he still retains the properties, but how much actual cash was taken from him?"

"Well, these statements are from over seventeen years ago, but they cover his various incomes from investments, and they show the interest rates on each of his holdings, as well as the various automatic expenditures for the upkeep of the properties and his schooling, as well as the maintenance and management fees related to his accounts. Assuming that the percentage rate didn't change over the years, the annual cost of living increases to the various stipends and contracts remained constant, and all of the interest income was rolled back into the accounts, I figure that the total amount that was in the Potter family vault was somewhere around two hundred seventy three million, in liquid assets, that is."

Hermione stared blankly at her father for a few seconds before she asked with no small amount of disbelief, "Excuse me? Did you say two hundred seventy million Pounds?"

"No. I said two hundred seventy three million Galleons. Seeing that there's roughly five Pounds to the Galleon, and taking into account the standard five percent fee that Gringotts charges for exchanging between Pounds and Galleons, which we always thought was too high, truthfully, that comes to…"

"One billion, two hundred ninety six million, seventy hundred fifty thousand Pounds," Hermione finished in little more than an awed whisper. Her face dropped into a vicious frown as she yelled, "His uncle stole over a billion Pounds from him!"

"Impossible!" Jane chimed in, "Unless the policies of Gringotts has changed over the last twenty years, nobody could touch the contents of the Potter family vault, aside from the automatic withdrawals for property maintenance and the stipends that were agreed to when the trust was originally set up. The only money that was available to Harry or his proxies was in the trust vault for his upbringing. Do you have the statement on his trust, Alex?"

Alex shuffled a few pages of the printed report before finding the right sheet, "Ah, yes, there was a yearly contribution into the trust vault from the family vault of fifty thousand Galleons. Given that, the most that it possibly could have held would be about eight hundred thousand Galleons, assuming he didn't withdraw any, but seeing how his tuition for Hogwarts and all of his spending money came from there, I'd assume there was a lot less at the time. Does your boyfriend have a habit of being a spendthrift?"

A dark, stormy cloud passed over Hermione's eyes as the image of a lonely, half-starved little boy locked in a small cupboard drifted into the forefront of her mind, "Are you kidding? He wears hand-me-down rags from his morbidly obese cousin. He's been brought up in abject poverty his whole life. I don't know what makes me angrier, the emotional abuse he's had to endure, the physical abuse inflicted on him from his uncle and cousin, or the fact that they had the gall to steal what they thought was his entire family fortune from him and then pack up and abandon him! They moved from their home in Surry and disappeared with all of his money!"

For the second time that day, Hermione felt the lump appear in her throat and the wetness build in her eyes over Harry's situation, "He wasn't going to tell us at all. When he finally told us what happened, he wasn't angry that his money was stolen, or distressed over what he could or couldn't buy, he was afraid that I'd… we'd look at him differently. He thinks he's penniless… he borrowed money to get food this morning!" Hermione's tears were falling fast and hard as she continued, "I found him at his house in Surry. He was there preparing it to be sold so that he could afford to go to school this year! I can't even begin to describe how enraged I am at his supposed 'blood' relatives…" then Hermione distractedly added as almost an afterthought, "and he's not my boyfriend."

Hermione didn't fail to notice the perplexed glances Alex and Jane sent each other, but she was too disconcerted over the revelation of Harry's apparent wealth to question them. Alex went a step further by saying, "Well, the liquid assets in his family vault is only a small fraction of his holdings."

"A fraction?" asked Hermione cautiously, "What do you mean?"

Alex shuffled some of the papers in his hands before finding the correct sheet, "Most of the Potter wealth is tied up in corporate investments. From what I can gather, his family owns the majority of shares in several different companies, many of which are muggle corporations. The Wizarding corporations in which he owns controlling interest are the 'Fly By Knight' broomstick company, 'Royal Reagents Apothecary Supply Company,' and 'Cromwell's Custom Cauldrons,' just to name a few. As far as the muggle holdings go, it seems that the Potter family was heavily invested in the British motorcar industry. It seems that Harry has a rather large share of the Lotus Motorcar Company, as well as the Aston-Martin company, which is strange because I was under the impression that it was fully owned by the Ford Motor Company. Of course, this information is very old, maybe the broker for the family sold off the shares, and I'd imagine they would for the good of the entire portfolio if they were offered enough. In any case, I daresay that this boyfriend of yours is probably one of the richest men in Britain, when he reaches majority, that is."

"This is incredible," whispered Hermione as her still teary eyes scanned the page her father had handed her, "Harry has no idea how much he'll be worth next week on his birthday… and he's not my boyfriend."

"Where are you kids staying, if you don't mind me asking?" asked Jane as she packed the paperwork back in the box.

"Well, for tonight and maybe tomorrow, we'll be at Hogwarts. That's another story altogether," answered Hermione, who then proceeded to explain to her parents how the school was reopening in September. She went on to explain how both she and Ron were awarded the Heads for the year, and how Harry, in order to be able to continue at the school, had been taken on as the Professor of the Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

"Well, we'd like to officially meet this boyfriend of yours," Jane stated casually.

"We actually stayed here last night. When those wretched people moved out of there, they took every stick of furniture in his house, he didn't even have a bed there, so I brought him here from Surrey. I was sure you wouldn't have minded if he stayed in one of the guest rooms, and he's not my boyfriend!" said Hermione with a glare, "Now you both are taking the mickey out of me!"

"If he isn't your boyfriend, then he should be," sighed Jane as she handed the box back to Hermione, "He's obviously a major factor in your life, and you obviously have feelings for him, judging by what you told us about him in all of those letters you sent from your school. In fact, we'd be hard pressed to give you a name of any other of your friends from that school besides that 'Ron' fellow that annoys you so… considering that this Harry is the only person you've ever mentioned in your letters."

Hermione frowned and felt her face burn in embarrassment, not because what her mother said was true, but because Harry and Ron were her only friends in school, and even she didn't realize until that moment that she never really mentioned Ron very much at all in her correspondence. Of course, her parents took her fierce blush as a confirmation of the relationship between Harry and their daughter. Hermione, however, was starting to get rather annoyed at their insistence.

Hermione thanked her parents for taking the time to help and made her escape, deciding to head to Grimmauld Place to retrieve Kotone's trunk, still feeling somewhat guilty over the thought that she might have caused the little girl's injuries. She entered the gloomy old mansion and immediately wondered where Ron would think a good hiding place would be. With a knowing smile, she immediately made her way to the kitchen and opened the icebox where she found the shrunken trunk and the bag of supplies carelessly shoved behind a plethora of various food items. She let out a slight chuckle at Ron's forethought of stocking the icebox in preparation of their inevitable stay there. She placed the trunk into her overnight bag and left the kitchen.

Hermione quietly crossed the entrance hall, being careful not to disturb Mrs. Black's portrait. She paused when she reached the front door and checked her watch. She knew she had told Harry that she would return in a few hours, but also knew that he wouldn't bother to check up on her. She turned from the door and made her way up the stairs towards the library on the second floor.

As she entered the library, another memory cascaded into the forefront of her mind. She was viewing herself from between a set of bookshelves in the Hogwarts library, apparently from their fourth year while they were researching ways for Harry to breathe underwater. Harry was seated at a table as she bent over his shoulder, pointing out something in a large book that was spread out before him. He turned his face up from the book to look at her, and from her point of view in the memory, it looked as though their faces were close enough so that a minimal effort on either of their parts would result in a kiss. It was such an innocent, obscure memory, but she could see that from another's vantage point, it looked decidedly intimate. Again, she had to shake the recollection from her head before she proceeded into the Black library and began scanning the bookshelves for likely titles.

Hermione sat scowling at the book she was currently reading when she heard the grandfather clock in the sitting room chime three o'clock. She glanced at her watch to confirm the hour, and then snapped the book closed and laid it on the stack of books she had already perused. She had expected that the Black library would be chock full of books on blood purity and bloodline preservation, and wasn't disappointed at all.

She never before bothered to check the books on the subject, assuming that they would be nothing but bigoted rants and prejudiced teachings only suitable for people like Dolores Umbridge or the Malfoys. She was shocked to find the incredible lengths that the so-called 'pureblood' families would go to in order to preserve the line. She also came to the conclusion that the reason that so many of the 'Old Blood' families were so deeply immersed into the Dark Arts came from the perceived need to preserve the purity of blood. In every book she read, almost all of the ways to deal with 'line threats' involved some form of Dark Sorcery or Necromancy, and the books made absolutely no qualms about explaining the theories behind dark magicks in excruciating detail. In fact, in the six hours that she had just spent in the library, she had learned more about the Dark Arts from the line preservation books than she had ever learned anywhere else.

With a sweep of her hand, she sent the stack of the hate-filled books scattering across the table and onto the floor. She roughly stood from the chair and began pacing the floor with her eyes cast downward, silently seething over the ridiculousness of some of the theories in the books she had read. One of the more insane claims was that there was a 'zero sum' of magic in the world, and that with every muggleborn or half-blood that was born, magical power was 'stolen' from the purebloods out of some imaginary magic pool. The same theme was present in every book, that pureblood lines were superior in every way, and anything less deserved nothing less than extinction.

Again, a memory suddenly assaulted her consciousness as she stood there in the library, this one involving a compartment on the Hogwarts Express. She was sitting beside Harry quietly reading a book. Harry had an odd, unreadable expression on his face as he stared at her as she read. This point of view was from the outside of the compartment, as if she were peeking through the glass. She remembered that scene. It was just after their second year on the ride back to King's Cross. She never noticed at the time that he was staring at her like that! She never realized that he was staring at her at all! How could she remember something she had never seen?

Hermione rested her hands on the back of a chair, hung her head and let out a frustrated growl. She glanced at her watch, and seeing the late hour, she decided it was time to head back to Hogwarts, maybe to get a few hours of sleep and forget these strange 'visions' that were plaguing her.

When she reached down beside the chair to pick up her overnight bag, she was startled by the sound of the library door opening behind her. She spun around while instinctively drawing her wand. There, standing in the darkened doorway, was a thin figure dressed in dark gray pajamas.

"Hello," came a tired, drawling voice from the doorway, "You woke me up. Are you here to feed me?"

As the figure stepped into the room, she caught the glimpse of cold, steel-grey eyes gazing at her from beneath a mop of disheveled, platinum blonde hair.

Hermione's eyes widened as she recognized the man behind the eyes. Without a second thought, she yelled, "Stupefy!" and watched the body of Draco Malfoy drop heavily to the floor.

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Harry wasn't sure how long he sat staring at the door with the little half-witch nestled in his arms before he rose from the chair with a sigh. He drew his wand, transfigured the sofa into a small bed, and then settled Kotone into it. He retrieved a light blanket from the cupboard in his bedroom, covered the little witch then made his way to his own bed. He stripped down to his boxers, climbed into bed and soon fell into a fitful sleep.

The dream seemed to come to him almost immediately. Again, he was in the hallway on an upper floor of Grimmauld Place, walking along the same dusty runner towards the former bedroom of the late Mrs. Black. He heard the eerie sounds of water dripping and Hermione's soft giggling echoing around him. He stopped in front of the door and slowly opened it, seeing Hermione, softly crying as she knelt in the huge clamshell in the centre of the room.

Hermione raised her head to look at him with her red, teary eyes. Her lips were moving as she reached out to him, but he couldn't hear anything except for the distant, rhythmic dripping. He was curious. Why was she crying? What was she trying to say?

He tried to step forward into the room, but found that he couldn't move his feet. It felt as if his ankles were bound together. He felt a surge of panic when the door began to close on its own. He needed to find out what was wrong with Hermione. He vainly struggled to get his feet to move, but they were held fast. He reached out his hands and pushed on the door, trying to keep it from closing. He saw Hermione let out a silent wail before the door clicked shut, plunging the hallway into darkness. His breathing came in short gasps as he began pounding frantically on the door. He slammed his fist one last time, then rested his forehead against the door.

Harry suddenly felt movement near him. He held his breath when he heard a deep growling coming from somewhere beneath him. He tried to move, but his legs still felt as if they were bound together.

With a gasp, his eyes flew open and he quickly sat up and looked around. He saw Kotone laying at the foot of his bed, curled up in a ball with her tail tucked under the covers and firmly wrapped around his ankles. Even though the night wasn't cold at all, her thin body was shivering as she slept, while deep, guttural moans escaped her throat.

Harry gently woke Kotone. Her eyes opened and quickly scanned the darkened room until they fell on Harry's concerned face. Her eyes softened and she gave him a warm smile, which bared the long row of her sharp, black teeth.

Harry placed his hand over the side of her head and ran a thumb over her temple, "What are you doing here, little one? Couldn't you sleep on your bed?"

Her smile faltered and her eyes dropped sadly to the stone floor as she climbed off from his bed, "So sorry, Shishi-san. I not wish to disturb. I leave to room for more comfort."

She gave him a small bow and turned to shuffle out of the room. Harry gently placed his hand on her shoulder and said, "I'm not angry with you, little one, but it wouldn't look very proper if we were found in the same bed."

He knew it was because she didn't want to be alone, so he climbed out of bed and quickly put his pants on. He went to the other room, shrunk her transfigured bed and carried it into the bedroom where he placed it along the wall next to his and enlarged it again. She looked up to Harry's face and gave him a beaming smile, which truthfully looked more like a menacing sneer.

Suddenly, the smile in her eyes fell. Her white brows knitted together as she looked at him and whispered, "Nandesuka?" (What is it?) Harry saw her eyes follow an invisible line from his head up to the ceiling and she let out an audible growl, and he could tell it was truly a growl.

She grabbed his hand and started pulling him to the door, "Shishi-san! You must come! Please to hurry!"

Harry grabbed his shirt and pulled it on as Kotone led him from his quarters. Once in the hall, she scanned the ceiling above his head as if looking for something. She dropped her hands down to the floor and sprinted off down the corridor towards the main staircase, moving at an incredible speed. She stopped at the base of the stairs and looked back as Harry hurried to catch up with her. He raced up the stairs and saw her anxiously waiting for him.

When he reached the landing, he saw her eyes follow an invisible line from him to the far end of the hall. She sprinted off again on all fours while calling back to him, "Hurry!"

When she reached the end of the hallway, Harry saw her freeze. It took a minute for him to catch up with her, and as he approached her saw a look of fear in her eyes as she stared at the large double doors that led to the infirmary.

He knew what she was afraid of, having personally witnessed the way the patients inside attacked her. He bent down and scooped her up into her usual position against his side while saying, "Don't worry, I won't let anything happen."

He pulled his wand from his belt and pushed the door open with his forearm. He saw that almost none of the people in the beds were asleep, but that wasn't surprising given the screaming that was coming from Madam Pomfrey's office at the far end of the ward. Many of the people in the beds were openly glaring at both Kotone and him, but none made a motion as Harry had his wand prominently displayed in his hand. Kotone lifted her face from Harry's chest and after a very brief glance around the room, she silently pointed in the direction of the screaming.

Upon entering Madam Pomfrey's office, Harry heard Kotone gasp in surprise. They saw a congregation of red hair crowded around a makeshift bed along the far wall. Molly Weasley had her arms wrapped around her son, Percy, sobbing and muttering unintelligibly. Ron stood behind his father along with Fred and George, who were all staring solemnly as Madam Pomfrey worked feverishly over the tortured form of Ginny writhing on the bed.

All eyes turned to Harry as he entered the office, and as he expected, he was greeted with gasps and stares at the little half-witch on his arm. When Harry felt Kotone shift in his arms, he set her down on the floor and watched her walk towards the bed with her head down, trying to avoid the horrified faces of the people in the room. Madam Pomfrey made a motion to stop Kotone, but with a word from Harry, she reluctantly allowed the strange little girl to approach the bed.

Ginny was still curled into a fetal position on the bed, her eyes and mouth wide open, screaming as though she were under the Cruciatus Curse. Kotone knelt beside the bed so that her face was directly in line with Ginny's. Kotone's eyes seemed to go out of focus as she stared into Ginny's, reminiscent of the way Luna Lovegood's eyes usually appeared.

For a few moments, nothing happened. Then gradually, Ginny's screams seemed to quiet somewhat. Kotone's tail began twitching and her hands curled into fists, bunching up the sheets of the bed in her fingers. A low, grinding whine escaped Kotone's throat as her body started violently convulsing.

Suddenly, Ginny took in a huge gasp of air and fell unconscious, at the same time Kotone let out a pained cry and collapsed onto the floor. Harry rushed over and lifted Kotone from the floor and saw that, once again, she had blood seeping out of her eyes, nose and even her ears.

Madam Pomfrey quickly checked Ginny, "She's sleeping. I don't know how the girl did that, but…"

Madam Pomfrey's turned to Harry and she saw what had happened to Kotone.

"Merlin!" exclaimed Madam Pomfrey as she quickly took Kotone from Harry's arms, "She's… she's an Algean Sympath!"

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Ginny Weasley seemed to be trapped in her own mind, experiencing an endless stream of memories as if she were viewing them in a pensieve. With each scene that flashed around her, the anger burned ever hotter, her jealousy caused her heart to clench ever tighter and the hatred coursed through her veins, pulsing in time with her heartbeat.

Ginny watched the memories of herself reading letters from her brother, Ron. She read over her memory self's shoulder as he described how her Harry heroically climbed on a mountain troll's back and shoved his wand up it's nose, trying to protect their ugly, bossy female classmate, then described how they became fast friends after that. A sneer crossed her lips at the thought of another girl becoming close to her Harry. The scene around her shifted to another letter where Ron was describing how Hermione set Professor Snape's cloak alight with her specialty 'Bluebell Flame,' essentially saving her Harry's life. Memory Ginny seethed at the notion that both Harry and Hermione shared life-debts.

Ginny watched her younger self, bouncing on the balls of her feet, nervously standing beside her mother at King's Cross Station. Suddenly, memory Ginny started shrieking, "There he is! I see him!" She saw her brother come through the barrier, along with Harry and 'her.' She watched as Hermione looked at Harry's relatives, then to Harry with concern etched in her ugly, know-it-all face. She shouldn't concern herself with her Harry! Who does she think she is? That ugly tart doesn't know him like she does, doesn't love him like she does!

The scene shifted around her again, morphing into the kitchen at the Burrow when she got her first Hogwarts letter. Ginny cringed as she watched her younger self knock her porridge bowl from the breakfast table at the sight of Harry. When her letter arrived, she was screaming to the memory Ginny to hurry up and tell Harry how happy she was about them going to school together, how excited she was about being able to ride on the Hogwarts Express with him. She remembered how she was working up the courage to talk to him while they were reading their booklists, most of which were assigned by Gilderoy Lockhart. Even with the setback of sticking her elbow in the butter dish, she finally found the nerve to say something to Harry, but was interrupted when that letter to Ron from 'her' arrived. She watched with seething anger as he read the letter aloud that was supposed to be to only Ron, but ended up being all about Harry, how she hoped he made it there okay, how she was worried that he might have gotten in trouble by the rescue. She went on about how she was sooo worried about Harry, and wanted an answer about Harry at once, and practically demanded that Harry meet her in Diagon Alley to get their school things. She felt her fists ball up in rage. That was that bookworm's only concern… Harry, Harry, Harry! Her Harry!

The next scene to form around her was the familiar Diagon Alley. She looked at her younger self standing next to her mother as she frantically scanned the alley for the missing Harry Potter, who hadn't arrived where he was supposed to from the floo trip from the Burrow. She watched the dejected look on memory Ginny's face as she spied the object of their search standing next to a giant of a man and an ugly, bucktoothed girl. The brown-haired bint was bouncing happily and looking at her Harry as if she were ready to snog him right there in front of Gringotts!

More memories came and went at an increasingly furious pace, every instance of her witnessing the burgeoning relationship between 'her' and the man she was destined to be with. Seeing Harry on the sofa in front of the fire in the Gryffindor common room with Hermione nestled up against him, both asleep since the night before. Harry with his face almost buried in the bint's ratty brown hair as he whispered something in her ear in a corridor between classes. Watching her younger self hiding at the top of the stairs to the girl's dormitory as she looked down into the common room and listened to Harry confess how he had kissed Cho Chang, not missing the devastated look that briefly flashed across Hermione's face. The icy cold dread when reading the article in The Daily Prophet about Harry and Hermione's torrid relationship. Staring furiously from her mother's side at Hermione touching her lips to Harry's cheek in the middle of Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters.

With every memory she relived, the anger, the hurt, the desperation built inside of her, along with the ever increasing agony that tore throughout her entire body. Harry was hers! She had worked too hard! She had sacrificed too much! She had endured humiliation after humiliation… all of the mortifying accidents and painfully shy silences from when she was much younger, getting repeatedly caught by Hermione spying on Harry at the Burrow, the infamous and ill-conceived St. Valentine's Day poem delivered by the dwarf. She spent almost every Knut she had ever managed to scrimp and save, she actually stole from her classmates for the money, and from her twin brothers' shop to get the rarer ingredients needed for the perfume that was guaranteed, so she was told, to finally convince Harry of what he truly needed and desired, namely, Ginny Weasley. She knew that she could somehow repay whatever she had taken after she was part of Harry's life. He would never deny her anything because he loved her, and she knew it! It was destiny! She felt it to her very core, from the first time she ever heard of 'the boy who lived!' He was her Harry! It was destiny, after all!

She stopped being aware of her physical surroundings long ago… exactly how long ago, she had no idea. Time held no power within her prison of memories. She thought she might have heard Luna's voice at one point, but it was like a whisper in a windstorm. She thought she might have been moved, but she could feel nothing physically except the bitterly cold numbness that surrounded her agonizing internal torture. She could hear nothing above the disembodied screaming that was ever present in her ears except for the echoing voices of the ghosts of her past.

Memory Ginny's eyes narrowed as she watched Hermione fill a goblet with pumpkin juice and set a treacle tart upon a plate. As Hermione placed them both before Harry, who was sitting next to her at the breakfast table in the Great Hall, the scene around her began to dissolve into a thick, smoky fog. She then noticed that the shrill screaming had, at some point, stopped and the sound of clinking silverware and clanking plates faded into silence.

Ginny looked around at the gray mist that surrounded her. She started running blindly through the fog, becoming more frightened with every step. She suddenly stopped when she caught a glimpse of a pair of vivid, violet eyes staring at her from within the clouds. A strange, soft voice seemed to echo around her. At first, she couldn't make out the words, as if they were coming from a great distance away, but became increasingly clearer.

'Follow me. I will lead to home.'

Something about the soft, sweet voice was soothing to her, although the voice seemed to carry a disapproving edge to it. The terror and anguish that she felt just moments before seemed to dissipate, like a distant memory to her. Slowly she stepped towards the floating, almond-shaped eyes that seemed to gaze at her with compassion and understanding. The ash-gray mist began to darken, taking on the hue of charcoal gray storm clouds before solidifying into blackness where the only thing she could see were the violet eyes beckoning her forward. She felt a sense of peace wash over her before a sense of utter exhaustion gripped her consciousness and she began to fall into a deep, silent sleep. She heard the last words from the melodic, disembodied voice before the darkness enveloped her completely, 'To rest now, Lady of Angst and Sin, you have much to answer for when daylight is found.'

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