When Albus Dumbledore received Ginny's letter in his office, delivered by a ragged owl that looked ready to pass out, he would have chuckled at its overly polite tone if its content weren't so worrying. While the letter was worded in a very casual sort of way, the ink blots and sharp strokes of the letters gave him better insight into her mental state while she'd been writing. It was easy to see she was worried.

And rightly so.

Albus had no idea what effects Tom Riddle's memories might have on her mental state. She was already having nightmares, which he'd suspected might happen, though the wall he'd put up in her mind should have been strong enough to keep her from recalling anything once she woke. If the wall was already weak enough to let thoughts and memories slip through...

He couldn't wait for September to start teaching her Occlumency. He had to start now.

His decision made, Dumbledore stood up and grabbed a pinch of Floo powder from the pouch on his office's hearth. Before he could toss it into the fire, a face appeared in the flames.

"Dumbledore!"

"Minister Fudge," he greeted the Minister of Magic kindly. "You know I always welcome your visits, but this is a rather bad time."

"Whatever it is, it can wait," Fudge told him. "Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban!"

Dumbledore looked back at the letter on his desk with a frown.

Resonance
Chapter 3: Birthdays

Tap. Tap-tap-tap.

Harry Potter blinked sleepily and looked around. Why couldn't he see anything? It couldn't possibly still be dark outside, could it?

Tap-tap-tap.

With a quiet groan, he sat up and blinked slowly, struggling to keep his eyes open. He reached blindly towards his nightstand to hunt down his glasses, then put them on his face.

Tap-tap-tap.

Grumbling something unintelligible under his breath, he looked at the clock hanging on his wall. It was a beat-up old thing, as were most of the items in this room that were left over from its prior use as Dudley's storage space, but it still worked well enough to tell him it was far too early to be awake.

The tapping sound continued, drawing his gaze to his window. An owl he didn't recognize was sitting on the windowsill, pecking at the glass. He hurriedly got out of bed and opened the window, watching bemusedly as the owl hopped into the room and dropped a heavy package and an envelope on his desk. It took a quick sip from Hedwig's water dish, then flew out the window and disappeared into the night without a backwards glance.

Harry glanced at Hedwig, still asleep in her cage despite the brief commotion. The flight from wherever Hermione was spending her vacation (somewhere in France, he thought) had taken a lot out of her. The Weasley family's old owl, Errol, was in there too, resting up for the long journey back to Egypt, where the Weasleys were currently vacationing.

He smiled at the thought of his friends, and looked over at the small pile of birthday presents he'd received only a few hours ago. Ron's gift was a Pocket Sneakoscope, which could detect any untrustworthy people nearby. It looked like a miniature glass top, and was currently balanced perfectly on its point on his bedside table. Hermione's gift was, surprisingly, not a book. Instead, she had given him a servicing kit for his broomstick. Hagrid, the Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts and the first wizard he'd ever met, had given him a rather odd gift. It was a large tome, titled The Monster Book of Monsters.

The book was also — quite literally — a monster. It had tried to devour his hand, and he'd been forced to wrap one of his belts around it to keep it closed. Hagrid had hinted in his letter that it might be useful, but Harry couldn't imagine why. He couldn't even open the book, let alone actually read anything in it.

Thinking of his presents reminded him that he'd apparently received a new one, and he looked back at the letter and package sitting on his desk. The package seemed like it might be a book — had Hermione gotten him another gift? Curious, he reached out to open it, but changed his mind and picked up the envelope instead. On its front was his own name, written in an oddly familiar script. He spent a moment trying to figure out where he knew that handwriting from, but when no obvious answers came to mind, he gave up and tore open the envelope to pull out the parchment within.

Dear Harry,

I spent a long time wondering what to write in this letter. I'm still not sure where to begin, to be honest. I've never really talked to you before, unless you count my sobbing and stuttering in the Chamber of Secrets as actual talking.

Harry paused, frowning. Was this from Ginny Weasley? Why was she sending him anything? He barely knew her, and had never really spoken to her at length. Curious, he kept reading.

I guess you don't really know me all that well. To you I'm just "Ron's little sister" if you even think of me at all, but even though I'm nearly a stranger to you, you still risked everything to save me. I know I was very out of sorts at the time, but I still noticed things. I saw the Basilisk fang on the floor, and the tear in your robes, and that phoenix's eyes were still damp with tears.

You almost died, didn't you? Because of me.

Dumbledore tells me it wasn't my fault. I'm not sure if I believe him, though. It sure feels like my fault. You should probably hate me for what I've done, for almost getting you killed, for petrifying one of your best friends, for letting everyone else blame you and call you the "Heir of Slytherin" and all that rot. But you saved me. You could have hated me, but instead you told me everything was alright. And I never thanked you for it. So, thank you. Thank you for saving my life and for not blaming me. I know you'll probably play it down and say it was nothing, but no matter what you think of it, it meant the world to me. I owe you my life.

Anyway, Happy Birthday! After all you went through to save me, the least I could do is give you a birthday gift. So, here you go. I hope you like it.

Ginny Weasley

Harry's eyes slowly widened as he read through the letter. He was surprised to see that Ginny actually had a lot to say in her letter, when she was normally so quiet and subdued around him. Hopefully he'd have the opportunity to befriend her upon his return to Hogwarts in September. During the past two years, he'd discovered just how wonderful it was to have friends, and he could always use more.

He picked up the package next and began to unwrap it. Before he even saw what was inside, he already knew it was a book, and wondered if perhaps Ginny's and Hermione's gifts had been switched somehow. He quickly tore off the rest of the paper and saw the title:

Seeking Victory: 1001 Extreme Seeker Moves

"Wicked," he whispered as he looked at the moving picture on the cover, which showed a Seeker flying upside-down with his head barely inches above the grass, his hand reaching for a Snitch that was just beyond his grasp. Harry opened it up to a random page that described a move called the Neilson Reversal and began to read eagerly.

She was sitting on her bed in Gryffindor Tower, staring down at the small book on her lap. Her mind was at war with itself. She knew she shouldn't open it. She knew she should destroy it, burn it, tear it to shreds so that it could never ensnare someone else as it had done to her.

But she knew she could not. She was in too deep. She could sense it, could feel the darkness inside her mind. And the darkness was telling her to open it.

Unable to resist, she did as she was bid.

Hello, Ginny, it greeted her, its words swimming into existence on the blank page. It's been a while.

Ginny picked up her quill and wrote back, I know what you are. I know what you've done.

And yet you've told nobody.

I'll find a way.

No, you won't. You can't win, Ginevra.

The ink left the page and reached out towards her, as it had so many times before. Shadowy tendrils sank into her mind. She didn't resist. In fact, she welcomed it, because she knew Tom had told her the truth.

She had already lost.

The darkness compelled her to stand, and she obeyed. She knelt and pulled a can of paint from beneath her bed. She remembered it now, as she remembered everything she'd done while under Tom's control. She would always forget afterwards, after it was over.

This time, however, she knew it would never be over. Tom had finally won.

She picked up the can and left the dorm. Everyone else was in class, so the halls were empty and silent. She disillusioned herself anyway, just in case, and headed towards the Chamber. Stopping outside the bathroom, she looked up at the message she'd written on the wall, months ago.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.

ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

She put down the bucket and dipped her fingers into the crimson paint it held, then smeared a new message on the wall below the old one:

HER SKELETON WILL LIE IN THE CHAMBER FOREVER.

She entered the bathroom, leaving the can behind. She had left her final message. The ghost was hiding, though it no longer mattered if anybody saw her.

Open, she hissed at the sink. It obeyed her.

Then she entered the Chamber for the final time.

Miles away and months later, Ginny sat up with a gasp. Her heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to get her frantic breathing under control.

HER SKELETON WILL LIE IN THE CHAMBER FOREVER.

The crimson words seemed to float in the air before her as she threw herself out of bed and raced to her window. She opened it and stuck her head out into the dry night air, gasping for breath.

She remembered. She remembered reaching out with paint-coated fingers towards the wall outside the bathroom. She remembered writing her own death sentence. She remembered opening the Chamber and sliding down into the darkness.

She remembered what Tom had done to her then.

...ice-cold hands that were so horribly, gloriously real as he kissed her on the lips and stole her breath away...

Bile rose in her throat. She pulled head back inside and quickly crossed the room to enter the small attached bathroom. She reached the toilet just in time, and collapsed to her knees as she vomited into it.

A few minutes later, after emptying her stomach and rinsing her mouth out to rid herself of the acidic aftertaste, she looked up into the mirror.

Weeks spent in Egypt under the hot summer Sun had tanned her face and sent freckles racing across her skin and down her neck. You wouldn't know it from looking at her now, though, as her skin was even paler than she usually was, so pale that her many freckles stood out in stark relief. There were dark rings under her eyes.

She turned away from the reflection, unable to bear yet another reminder of how much she had changed, and walked back out into the room just in time to see an owl fly right through her open window and drop a heavy burden atop her dresser. She barely had a moment to blink in sleepy confusion before it took off again and flew off into the darkness. Curious, she went over to her dresser and looked at the package it had dropped. It was book-shaped, and had her name written across the top. Beneath it, she could see the corner of an envelope. She took it out and opened it to read the letter inside.

Miss Weasley,

I apologize for your difficulties this summer. If I'd known that you would have such terrible nightmares so soon, I would have made arrangements to teach you. Alas, something incredibly important has come up that I cannot possibly ignore. I cannot teach you this summer.

Anger filled her for a moment, but it quickly turned to despair. If she couldn't learn Occlumency soon...

However, with this letter I also sent you a book on the subject. Please do read it, and practice the exercises detailed within. Just because I cannot teach you myself does not mean I cannot give you the tools you need to learn on your own. If your nightmares become noticeably better or worse after you begin practicing, owl me immediately. When you arrive at Hogwarts in September, I will meet with you in person to determine your progress and schedule additional lessons on the subject if necessary.

Please do know that this is not a quick fix. You will not solve your nightmare problem so easily. This is complicated magic, so do not be discouraged if you do not appear to be making any progress at first. You are a very intelligent young witch, and I know you are capable of learning this art.

Best wishes,
Albus P. W. B. Dumbledore

She ripped open the package and almost smiled when she saw she'd been right about its contents. It was a book, with the single word, Occlumency emblazoned across its cover. Completely forgetting about the very early hour, she quickly lit a candle and settled down on her bed to begin reading, hoping she could get rid of her nightmares soon even despite Dumbledore's warning.

Several hours later, when the Sun was just beginning to rise outside, Ginny was still reading. She had made it through nearly a quarter of the book already, though she was so tired now that she couldn't open her eyes all the way. She yawned widely as she turned a page and continued reading.

After a lengthy introduction and an even more lengthy section that detailed the history and supposed origin of Occlumency — though the art was so old that its actual origin wasn't certain — she'd finally gotten into the meat of the text. She had discovered from her reading that there were actually two different kinds of Occlumency. The first kind involved simply clearing the mind to protect it from anyone skilled in Legilimency, the art of reading minds. It was much more difficult than it sounded, as it involved keeping calm in the face of a devastating mental assault. The second type of Occlumency, the type that Ginny was hopefully going to learn, was easier to grasp at first, though much more difficult and time-consuming to master. It involved creating a "mindscape," as the book called it, an inner world within your own mind, where your thoughts and memories could be visualized. Then you could organize your memories to make them easier to recall, or lock them away so you wouldn't have to see them unless you wanted to.

It sounded incredibly complicated, but the book assured her that it was simpler than it seemed. Ginny wasn't so sure about that, but she decided to at least make an attempt. With a sigh, she pushed the book away from herself and closed her eyes, attempting to focus inward as the book had described.

Her arm was itchy.

She absently scratched her arm until the itch went away, then tried again.

A muscle in her shoulder twitched.

After a quick stretch and a bit of movement to work out that annoying muscle spasm, she settled down again.

"GINNY! WAKE UP! WE'RE LEAVING SOON!"

Ginny groaned and let herself fall backwards onto the bed. Meditation was hard.

She soon sat up again and reached out to snap her new book shut. She had totally forgotten this would be their last day in Egypt. They were returning to the Burrow as soon as everyone was awake and packed.

She glanced around the room and groaned. Somehow, during her stay, her clothes, books, and other possessions had ended up strewn all over the room. She stood up and started cleaning up the mess as fast as she could, tossing everything she could find back into her trunk. Hopefully it would all fit without being packed neatly.

"Ginevra Molly Weasley! Hurry up! We'll be late!"

Ginny ground her teeth in frustration as she shoved the last of her clothes in her trunk. She attempted to close it, but it stubbornly refused to latch all the way shut. Muttering curses under her breath that would have earned her an hour-long lecture if her mother had heard them, she took a few steps back, then ran towards her trunk and leaped onto it, landing with just enough force to shut it completely. After hearing the latch click, she stepped off the trunk and dragged it out of her room and down the stairs. Her parents and the rest of her family were all waiting by the inn's fireplace. A large, warm fire was flickering merrily in the hearth despite the heat outside.

"Late for what?" Ron asked their mother as Ginny dragged her trunk over to the rest of the family's luggage. "Aren't we just going back home?"

"Your father has to go back to the Ministry in the afternoon," their mother answered him. "Now, do hurry up!"

"Well, it was nice to see you all, but I have to get back to work," Bill said as he hugged each Weasley in succession. When he got to Ginny, he leaned down and whispered in her ear, "Take a look at page fourteen of that notebook I gave you. I think you'll like it."

When she nodded, he grinned and winked at her as he Disapparated. Charlie went next. Since he was traveling all the way to Romania, he used the Floo instead of just Apparating. So he tossed in some powder, watched as the fire turned emerald green, and stepped in with his trunk.

"Romanian Dragon Preserve!" he shouted. The flames rose and he vanished from sight.

Molly looked expectantly at one of the twins. "You go next, Fred," she told him.

"I'm George, Mum!" the twin in question exclaimed. He gestured at his identical twin and said, "He's Fred."

"Sorry, George," Molly muttered absently, used to the twins' usual antics. "One of you just hurry up and go."

He grinned as he stepped into the bright green flames. "The Burrow!" he shouted, and vanished.

"Go on, Fred," Molly sighed.

"Fred?" he echoed. "Dunno what he was talking about. I'm George! The Burrow!"

He vanished in a roar of flame, drowning out his mother's angry shout. Ginny hid a grin as Molly rounded on Percy, who simply rolled his eyes as he stepped into the fire. Ron went after him, and then it was finally Ginny's turn.

"Now don't forget, dear," her mother said. "You must speak clearly."

"I've used Floo powder before, Mum," Ginny grumbled under her breath as she stepped into the flames.

Ginny tumbled head over heels as she exited The Burrow's fireplace. She tucked her head in and curled up, somehow turning her fall into a somersault to land back on her feet. She stood up, grinned at the wide-eyed twins, took a step, and stumbled on a loose floorboard. This time, she had no chance to recover before she hit the floor face-first.

"Nice," the twins said in unison, smirking at her.

Ginny stuck out her tongue, but before she could say anything back to them, their parents stumbled out of the fireplace. Ginny took advantage of the twins' distraction to slip away up to her bedroom. With a loud sigh, she laid down on her bed and stared up at the ceiling for a while. Her thoughts drifted.

Her fists clenched as rage welled up inside her, her fingernails biting deep enough into her palms to draw blood. Grasp your broom firmly by the tail, a voice in her mind recited as the back of her neck itched, then ached, though she had no idea where the thought had come from. The rage grew worse, and she picked up her pillow and threw it as hard as she could across the room to try to vent some of her anger, but it didn't help. She then tried taking a deep breath and telling herself to calm down, but her fury refused to go away.

They didn't die in a —

Flashes of thoughts that weren't her own drifted across her mind, but fled before she could figure out what exactly they were about. At first, she thought it might be Tom's influence again, but that theory was soon discarded. These thoughts felt... different, somehow.

After a while, though she wasn't sure exactly how long, she managed to calm down. Her face was bright red and she was breathing heavily as she wondered what had just happened.

"These aren't my emotions I'm feeling," she murmured quietly. "I can tell they're not mine. But... I don't think they're Tom's either."

With a sigh, she rummaged through her trunk, looking for something to distract herself from her strange thoughts. She quickly spotted the brown notebook lying sandwiched between two shirts, and pulled it out, flipping absently to the page Bill had suggested. As her eyes caught the title, she couldn't resist a smile. The next time the twins mocked her, they'd surely regret it.

The Bat-Bogey Hex

Causes victim's nasal mucus to leak out of the nose, enlarge, grow wings, and attack the victim's face for a period of time determined by the strength of the spell. This was modified from an enchantment placed on a doorway in a tomb filled with numerous other irritating curses. The enchantment was cast with enough power to be lethal: the victim's bogeys would actually explode from the nose, obliterating the face in the process. A single wizard could not produce enough power for that gruesome effect, so I'd classify this as "extremely irritating, but nonlethal" when cast by any singular wizard.

Incantation: Alatumuci

Wand motion: The ideal motion is unknown, but a standard swish-and-flick seemed to work just fine when I tested it on Alex — he wasn't too pleased with me afterwards, though.

"Alatumuci," she mumbled, carefully sounding out the word. She repeated it several times until she thought she was pronouncing it correctly. With a grin, she marked the page and placed the notebook on her nightstand. Once she went back to Hogwarts, the twins had better watch out!

For now, though, it was a good time to give Occlumency another try. She closed her eyes and attempted to meditate again.

"Sirius Black!"

Ginny frowned when she heard her father say the name right after arriving home from work the next day. It sounded familiar, somehow.

"What about him?" Molly asked as she bustled about the kitchen, preparing dinner.

"The Ministry's in an uproar," Arthur answered. "Black escaped from Azkaban a couple weeks ago and is now at large."

"But... nobody's ever managed to..."

"I know, Molly. Nobody knows how he escaped. They think they might know why he did it now, though. Rumor has it he's after..." Arthur trailed off and glanced awkwardly towards his youngest daughter.

"Ginny, dear," her mother said, "would you please go outside and let your brothers know it's time for supper? They should be out in the paddock."

Ginny sighed as she stood up and left the kitchen. Instead of continuing towards the makeshift Quidditch pitch out in the orchard, though, she stopped just outside the door and leaned against the wall, pressing her ear to the wood.

"Rumor has it he's after Harry," her dad continued quietly. "The guards claim he was mumbling 'He's at Hogwarts,' over and over just before his escape. You know he was one of You-Know-Who's followers. He probably blames Harry for his downfall thirteen years ago."

Ginny stifled a gasp. Harry was in danger again? Shouldn't someone warn him?

"We had a bit of a scare about Harry an hour ago, to tell you the truth. He ran away from home after accidentally inflating his aunt."

"What?!"

"The Minister himself found the boy and rented him a room at the Leaky Cauldron for the rest of the summer. Don't worry. He'll be fine as long as he doesn't leave Diagon Alley. There are so many other wizards there that Black cannot hope to find Harry without being seen, and the boy is being watched by a squad of plainclothes Aurors. He'll be alright."

The conversation quickly moved on to some of the raids Ginny's dad had conducted during the day. Ginny left her spot by the door and headed towards the paddock to find her brothers, thinking deeply about her father's news.

The rest of summer passed quietly, or as quietly as it could possibly be when the twins were around.

A few days after returning home, Ginny woke up with a pitiful groan. After staying up late the previous night reading through Bill's notebook, she'd woken up far too early for some reason, and couldn't get back to sleep no matter how much she wanted to. So it was with a befuddled mind and half-closed eyes that she wandered downstairs.

"Could I have some breakfast, Mum?" she asked as she sat heavily down at the table and rested her forehead on its cool surface.

"Sure... um... just one moment."

Her mother sounded perplexed. Feeling rather confused herself, Ginny lifted her head and was even more bewildered to see party decorations strewn throughout the room. There were balloons, streamers, and a big banner that proclaimed HAPPY BIRTHDAY! She looked at the banner for several minutes before it hit her.

"Oh! It's my birthday!" she exclaimed.

"Of course it's your birthday!" one of the twins shouted from behind her. They sat down on either side of her and looked at each other over her head.

"George, I fear something is terribly wrong with her!"

"Fred, I think you might be right!"

"How could she forget her own birthday?"

"We may have to perform some experiments, just to make sure she hasn't forgotten anything else!"

"Nothing invasive, of course —"

"Of course."

"Perhaps some mild probing, Fred?"

"Oh, hey George, we could try out that thing we bought in —"

"Enough!" Molly shouted, immediately silencing the twins. "There will be no talk of experimentation at breakfast!"

Ginny just rolled her eyes and ignored their usual antics. Lately, she had taken to repeating the incantation for the Bat-Bogey Hex in her mind whenever they annoyed her. Soon, very soon, she would get the opportunity to test it out on them — once they were at Hogwarts and out of sight of their mother, of course, since she'd pitch a fit if she saw Ginny hexing her brothers. The possibility of expulsion from Hogwarts paled in comparison to the Weasley matriarch's rage.

Despite its slow and stumbling start, Ginny enjoyed her birthday. After breakfast, the twins and Ron took her outside to go exploring in the forest near their home. After living there all their lives, most of it was already known to them, but they still had fun wandering through the trees and playing hide-and-seek. As they walked past the enclosed paddock where her brothers often played Quidditch, Ginny grinned. Her brothers had no idea, but she'd been breaking into the broom shed to practice on their brooms since she was six, and felt she was rather good now. Her brothers were sure to be shocked when a Chaser position opened up on the team and Ginny tried out, though that wouldn't happen for a few years yet.

When the Sun began to set, they came back inside, coated in dirt and dust from their adventures. Molly took one look at them and sighed as she cast a cleaning charm. After, there was a chorus of Happy Birthday, the lyrics of which were mangled hideously by the twins. Then there was a delicious chocolate cake, followed by gifts. Bill sent her a small ankh pendant he'd been allowed to take from one of the tombs. Charlie sent a nice pair of dragonhide boots for the winter. Percy apparently hadn't known what to get her, as both he and Ron each gave her a box of Chocolate Frogs, while the twins provided her with a few joke products from Zonko's. The gift from her parents, however, was by far her most favorite. When she opened the long, thin package to see a Cleansweep Seven, a newer version of the same model that the twins flew, she squealed in delight and leaped up to hug both of her parents tightly. Her father then told her he'd confiscated it from a Muggle who was using it as an ordinary broom. As it was not technically a Muggle artifact, but a magical device to begin with, he had gotten permission to keep it.

"It's about time you had your own broom," he said when she stammered her thanks to him. "Now you can stop borrowing your brothers' brooms at night."

Ginny stared at him. "You knew?"

Ron and Percy muttered shocked exclamations of their own, though Fred and George looked completely unsurprised. Arthur grinned and ruffled her hair. "I'm your father," he told her, as if that explained everything. "Of course I knew. Now, why don't you go try it out?"

Ginny grinned and picked up her new broom, then ran outside towards the paddock. It was an open area the size of a small Quidditch field, with tall trees planted around it to hide it from the Muggle residents of Ottery St. Catchpole. The moment she stepped out into the clearing, she mounted her broom and took off straight up into the air. It flew much better than the old Shooting Star she usually used whenever she managed to sneak one out of the shed. It flew faster, turned sharper, and stopped quicker than any broom she'd ever flown before. If the twins' Cleansweep Fives were anywhere near as good as her new Cleansweep Seven, she now knew why they'd charmed their brooms to produce a piercing shriek if anybody tried to steal them — a precaution she had discovered after attempting to take one of them out for a ride a couple years back. She didn't plan to ever let her new broom out of her sight!

She flew laps around the pitch, whooping with glee. Her nightmares, her past, her memories of Tom... none of it mattered right now. Flying was the only thing on her mind.

In the air, she was free.

Author's Note: I decided to cut the scene from the original story where Ginny cast the Bat-Bogey Hex on the twins after her joyride. I think it's better left out, as it didn't really serve the purpose of this chapter and didn't really fit. That'll come some other time, and removing it saves me from a rather awkward and somewhat canon-defying explanation for why Ginny wouldn't get in trouble due to the Trace.

This chapter, by the way, is the last rewrite chapter. While I technically had the majority of the original chapters 4 and 5 written in advance, they were never posted online, and will probably be changed a lot anyway, so the new stuff starts with the next chapter. The plot will also start to move along a bit faster now.

Please let me know if you spot any errors in this chapter or anything you think could be better. Especially when it comes to characterization. While positive reviews are wonderful and nice, constructive criticism is great too.