Ginny
The warm, fire lit room of number twelve Grimmauld Place was a significant difference to the cold, stone room that had been the previous location. The candle chandelier glowed merrily but did nothing to lighten the mood of the two women who sat in it, waiting for the indefinite return of their husbands. The smaller read head lay on the sofa while the older bushy-haired woman was curled in an arm chair that had been placed next to where her friend sat so the two women could stay close together. Hermione had wrote a letter to George and he had sent a letter straight back saying he would be back as soon as he left Angelina at The Burrow.
"I can't believe he'd do this," Ginny muttered, for what seemed like the hundredth time that night.
"Perhaps he didn't," reasoned Hermione, "I mean, think about it; Malfoy was the only person who we saw when we were in that block of cells, then we find the previously locked door open after he leaves. It's too clever to be a coincidence."
Was this Hermione's ability to see the good in people? Ginny nearly groaned out loud, but managed to stop herself. "So, he betrayed us, then he set us free?" Ginny pulled a sceptical face, "sounds a bit contradictory to me."
"You're only seeing what you want to see," Hermione said patiently, "you feel betrayed and angry, but you can't lose sight of the facts because your judgement is clouded by your heart. This is your heart and you should never let it affect your mind."
Ginny was about to retaliate when, with a loud crack! the tall, red headed figure of George Weasley materialised in the centre of the room.
"Gin," George exclaimed, "I got your letter! Are you two all right?"
Ginny accepted a peck on the cheek from her brother and said, "yeah, I'm fine."
Hermione gave a sigh of impatience, "no she's not; she's shaken and mad because she thinks Malfoy betrayed us."
George's face became uncharacteristically ugly, "always knew he was a traitorous git."
Hermione groaned, "he was obviously helping us, it couldn't be more transparent to me."
George folded his arms and raised his eyebrows, "pray tell."
"He's obviously working as a spy for our side to help take down the dark forces."
"How the hell did you get that?" Ginny asked suddenly, surprising herself.
"He let us out, that gate was locked with dark magic, it's obvious really," Hermione explained.
George snorted and rolled his eyes, Hermione opened her mouth to retaliate but Ginny cut across them, "just shut up, please."
Both Hermione and George had the good grace to look ashamed and to mumble sorry. Ginny accepted their apologies with as much grace as one can when lying matted and bloody on a sofa.
"What happened in there?" George asked, his eyes travelling over both women.
"I honestly can't remember," Ginny replied, "the last thing I remember is being taken into a room and then it was all blank until I got here."
George and Hermione both looked terribly worried. Hermione looked Ginny dead in the eye and said, "you do remember what happened last time your memory went blank don't you?"
"Yeah," Ginny whispered, not wanting to hear anyone say it. The tears began to prick her eyeballs and her breathing became ragged and uneven.
"Ginny, calm down," Hermione said soothingly, "it's OK, relax."
"I can't be possessed again, not again," Ginny moaned.
"You're open to possession if you don't calm down," Hermione told her, "when you make yourself vulnerable people can posses you, so you need to calm down."
Ginny inhaled and exhaled deeply, allowing her tense muscles to relax, trying to control her violent shaking and preventing the tears from falling.
Harry
The snake-like, slithering figure of the most evil wizard in the world crawled out of the shadows. Truly repulsive in every way, a body stretched so long and so thin it was like an extra-terrestrial being, sharp, yellow-brown teeth and long, unkempt finger nails. Red eyes glistened in its pale head, they were slits, much like its nostrils which almost seemed non existent in the low light. Its tall figure cloaked from head to foot in black, swishing robes, they draped off its thin body and made its paper white skin seem even more pale, if that were possible.
"Harry Potter, it's been far too long."
Harry screwed his courage to sticking point, "hello, Tom."
Voldemort moved forwards slightly and Harry could feel Ron shudder next to him. He was fighting back a shudder himself, but he would never let anyone know, they couldn't know he was scared. It was like something out of a horrific nightmare, something out of one of his dreams. If Ginny were there and she Ron and Hermione were dead on the floor it would be exactly like one of his nightmares.
Voldemort sighed, "aren't you even going to ask how I did it?" He sounded like a child.
"I know how you did it," Harry snarled, "you used my wife's blood, like you used mine in the graveyard."
"Does that make you angry?" Voldemort taunted, "does it make your blood boil, or does it turn it as cold as your wife's blood that flows through my veins?"
Harry tightened his grip on his wand, Voldemort leered, "I'm not going to kill you, Harry. Not yet." And he vanished into thin air. The men in masks seemed to disintegrate into the atmosphere. Harry looked widely around for anyone else and only lowered his wand when he was sure there was no one there.
"That was...bad..." Ron said breathlessly.
"And that," Harry responded, "was the biggest understatement I have ever heard."
Ron chuckled slightly, "well, I'm in shock!" He turned serious, "what does he want?"
Harry shrugged, clueless himself, "they kidnapped Mrs Figg so she must have something to do with this."
"Where would they take her?" The youngest Weasley boy pondered over the question, eyebrows knitted in thought.
Harry began scouring the floor for clues, he found the drawing of a house he knew from a dream, "we could start here," he smiled wryly, holding up the drawing of the Riddle House.
