Disclaimer: all credit to Ms Rowling, what a wonderful world she made for us to play in

FIRE & ICE

Chapter I

"There is in every woman's heart a spark of heavenly fire which lies dormant in the broad daylight of prosperity, but which kindles up and beams and blazes in the dark hour of adversity"
Washington Irving

Everybody knows the war is over
Everybody knows the good guys lost
Leonard Cohen: Everybody Knows

...

(Ginny)

"They're coming ... Run."

Harry's voice was strangled rasp, a whisper of a whisper. Together we ran, deeper into the Forbidden Forest, Harry dragging me along behind him. The Invisibility Cloak streamed out behind me as I sprinted down the ragged path, on and on through the blackness. My eyes were accustomed to the gloom. We lived by night. I had not seen the sun in days.

I ignored the wet, ripping pain in my lungs. Compared to the Cruciatus Curse, it was inconsequential. Adrenalin and fear and the sheer, desperate desire to survive fuelled me. There was nothing else.

"They're coming."

I could hear them, crashing through the undergrowth. They were behind us – far, but not far enough. I was tired, I was weak and sick and spent. Harry was not much better. Without Dumbledore, the Order had collapsed. Instead of fighting for freedom with hope in our hearts, we became kamikazes. The new goal was to take as many of those bastards possible down with us.

I gripped my wand tighter still. When they did come, I would be ready.

"They won't catch us." Harry sped up, pulling me with him. He refused to leave me, even though I slowed him down. "They won't… If we can make it to Hogwarts, we'll be safe... "

Hogwarts. The last sanctuary.

Dumbledore was dead, but some whisper of him lived on, a guardian spirit watching over the castle he loved. It was not a ghost, nothing so tangible, but more of a feeling, a light where there should have been shadow. Love, perhaps? Love ingrained so deep into the stones that it could not but linger, a seal that no spell could remove. But love or no love, Hogwarts or no Hogwarts, Voldemort had won. Capturing the castle was not necessary to guarantee his rule. I suspected it vexed him; Hogwarts was the only place he had ever felt at home.

Irony's a bitch, but I wasn't laughing.

"We'll make it." Harry was trying to convince himself as much as he was me. I said nothing, merely kept running, for I knew if I stopped, I would never start again. If I stopped, I would die. And if I died, Harry would too. "We'll make it, Ginny. I know we will."

Had I been able to speak, I would have told him to shut up and save his breath. It didn't matter if they heard us. They would find us. They always did.

We burst into a clearing and I was blinded by the moonlight. My foot snagged on a protruding root and I went tumbling to the ground. The Invisibility Cloak slipped from my shoulders and flooded, quicksilver, over the black mud. Harry whirled around and charged back towards me. He caught me under the armpits and hauled me to my feet, but I could not stand. Collapsing in the dirt, I clutched at my side. It burned. I could not breathe. I coughed and coughed, my rasps echoing up through the silent night. Harry held me to him as the coughing worsened, his arms tight around me, one hand on the back of my head, pressing my face into his chest. My body shook so violently I could hear my organs rattle, banging off my ribs. When the spasm passed I hung, boneless, in his arms.

"Breathe, Ginny," Harry murmured. "Breathe for me. Just keep breathing."

"But it's so hard," I cried.

"I don't care." Slowly, Harry leaned back from me. He grasped me by shoulders and surveyed me. I watched as the blood drained from his face. "Ginny," he said, our pursuers forgotten. "Ginny. You're bleeding."

I touched a shaking hand to my mouth. It came away wet. In the moonlight, my blood looked black. I licked my lips and tasted salt. Deep within me I could sense my lungs filling with liquid.

I looked up at Harry.

"Go on without me. I can't, Harry. I can't run anymore. I can't do it anymore, I can't see another person die… I just want lie here." I was crying. Tears ran down my face, cutting clear tracks through the grime and the blood. "I want to lie here. I don't care. I want to die." I wrenched the cloak free of my legs and threw it at Harry, possessed by a sudden, irrepressible anger. He just stood there, his face stony. "You go on. You're the Chosen One. I'm nothing ... I want to see my family again. I just want it to be over, Harry, can't you understand that? Harry, please, I just want to die. I'm too tired – Why won't you let me die!"

The fire inside me exploded in a silent scream and I flew at Harry, pummelling his chest and shoulders with my fists. And he let me. He stood and absorbed my rage – my terrible, cancerous grief – he opened his arms wide and folded me inside. Finally, as my blows grew weak, Harry pressed his lips the top of my head with a tender desperation that made me crumble. His eyes, however, were set– cold and hard, like emeralds, devoid of the warmth I knew and loved. When he spoke, his voice was too calm. "Hit me all you want Ginny, I'm not leaving you. I will not let you die. I can't. Not now, not ever."

I ripped free of his embrace. Stumbling backwards, I created a void between us.

"You can't save everyone!"

The words tore up my mouth. They stung like bile and tasted like blood.

Harry's mouth hung open, a pink 'oh' of hurt, and his empty hands fell slowly to his sides. His mute confusion only fuelled my anger. He had no right to be confused, hurt, vulnerable. He had no right to be weak, not when he was forcing me on.

"And not everyone wants to be saved."

"W-what are you saying Ginny? … After all the times we escaped from them! After everything they did to you! And everything they've taken from us! Are you saying you want to – you just want to – to sit down and wait for them?"

Slowly, deliberately, without taking my eyes from Harry, I sat down.

"Your parents would be ashamed of you," he spat. The truth smarted like a slap. "They died so we could live, so we could keep on fighting for what they believed in – for what we believe in … And you just want to give up? Are you that selfish?"

"This isn't living. This is surviving. Barely … that's not enough."

"And what about me?" Harry whispered.

I couldn't meet his eye. Shame was creeping through the cracks in my anger. "What about you?"

"Ginny. You're the reason I'm still alive – the only reason. Without you, I have nothing. Please don't leave me." He reached for my hand. "I love you Ginny."

"I know," I said miserably.

For the first time, Harry's voice cracked. "And you? You still love me, don't you?"

I opened my mouth to reply – to say I love you, it was instinctive –

Behind us, a twig snapped.

Unconsciously, Harry shifted his body so that he was in front of me. Protecting me. I was still sitting on the forest floor. Draco Malfoy raised his wand and screamed into the night.

"Avada Kedavra!"

A flash of green light lit up the trees. I heard the jubilant cries of the other Death Eaters carried on the wind. I saw Malfoy's face, grey as cold ash, the green light captured in his eyes. I saw Harry, still holding my hand, staring at Malfoy. I saw Malfoy's wand, thrust high up to the Heavens. I saw Malfoy staring at Harry. I saw the Dark Mark hovering above my head. And I understood.

"Run," Malfoy whispered.

"Why?" Harry demanded, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Is this some sort of trap?"

"No."

"I don't believe you," Harry accused.

Malfoy shrugged. "I don't care what you believe." He sounded too tired to lie.

"Why?"

"You saved me once."

"Yeah. I've got a saving people thing." Harry's voice cracked at the feeble joke. It broke my heart.

Malfoy nodded resolutely. "Now it's my turn."

The Death Eaters were getting closer. They had sped up. I could hear bangs and shouts as they crashed though the forest, eager to claim the body of their conquered foe.

Harry took a step closer to Malfoy. "Got a plan?"

I heard fumbling and the chink of metal on metal. Slowly, I raised my head. Malfoy was holding something gold. Suspended on a fine-link chain, it twinkled in the green pulse of the Mark.

Harry gasped.

"Where did you get that?"

"Snape gave it to me before he died."

"Snape gave it you!" Harry spluttered, sounding as confused as I felt. Why would Snape, Voldemort's right-hand man, provide a disenchanted teenager with a means to undo everything he had strived so hard to achieve? "Wait... Snape is dead?"

"Voldemort killed him."

Harry's eyes were wide. "No!"

"Yes," Malfoy replied calmly.

"Why?"

"He was a double-agent."

"Should've known. Slimy git," Harry said, almost fondly.

The sound of thunder rumbled and rolled. A flash of lightning split the night. I watched, hypnotised, as the time-turner's tiny hourglass swung back and forth, burning a bright gold in the momentary burst of pure light. There was a great rushing roar, and the heavens opened. Rain poured down with a vengeance. Fat drops thumped against my skin. They stung, but it was a good hurt.

I stuck out my tongue, sucking it down. It tasted so fresh. Tears mixed with rain on my cheeks. I stood up. I threw my head back, flung out my arms and spun around and around, my feet splashing in the new puddles. The water ran over me, it washed me clean, and I cried.

"Run – now!"

Malfoy's voice came from far away.

A ball of light encroached on the clearing, shimmering in the rain. Over the deluge I heard excited, pounding footsteps and maniacal laughter.

Bellatrix Lestrange.

In a split second Harry made his decision. He slung the Invisibility Cloak over my head and pushed me forward into Malfoy's arms. "Keep her safe," he begged. "Take her with you, and we're square. For everything. Just keep Ginny safe."

Malfoy nodded once, his jaw locked. He dragged me across the clearing as Harry threw himself to the mud – supposedly dead – and I opened my mouth to scream, but Malfoy clapped a gloved hand over my lips, stifling the sound as Bellatrix Lestrange came crashing through the trees, her wand raised. She ground to a halt above Harry's prone figure.

"Where are you going, Draco?"

Malfoy inhaled sharply. Discreetly, he shoved me forward into the trees. I saw him close his eyes, just for a moment, before turning to face Bellatrix.

"Nowhere," he replied coolly. "I was checking the perimeter, Aunt Bella. All clear."

Bellatrix nodded, her eyes mad. "Very good. Very good, Draco." She crouched over Harry, and poked him with her wand. Harry did not move. "Is he dead?"

"I would assume so," came a drawling voice. Lucius Malfoy swept majestically into the clearing like a conquering king. "Draco hit him with the Killing Curse. Death usually is the result of such an occurrence. Well done, Draco," he praised his son, shaking his hand. "Well done, son. This will surely ironclad the Malfoy name in Wizarding history."

"Knew you had it in you!" Dolohov came striding through the darkness to slap Malfoy on the back in congratulations. "Potter and all! The Dark Lord will be pleased."

"Very pleased," echoed Rookwood.

I knew their voices, their faces, the curses they favoured. I knew the stench of their putrid breath, the lecherous touch of their fingers, their breath against my skin. We were all intimately acquainted. For men so obsessed with pure blood, they had no problem spilling mine.

Slowly, a circle formed around the edge of the clearing and I was forced to step inside, lest someone fall over my invisible feet in the dark. Draco was shivering in the soaked summer air, his white-blonde hair plastered to his forehead. Lucius stood proudly by his son, sneering down at Harry's body, lying in the mud. No one spoke, even Bellatrix stopped cackling.

They were waiting for Him.

And he came, his eyes glowing red from beneath his hood. All the Death Eaters bowed low and Bellatrix flung herself at his feet. I heard my heart thump, and it beat so loud I feared they would hear it, that it would give me away.

"Who killed him?" Lord Voldemort asked softly. He had longed to kill Harry himself, but as the war dragged on the executioner's identity became irrelevant.

Lucius Malfoy shoved Draco forward. "Draco did, My Lord," he declared arrogantly. "He found Potter and killed him. My son killed Harry Potter."

Malfoy said nothing.

"Did he now?" Voldemort's tone was amused. "That is a most pleasant surprise ... Bella!"

Bellatrix gazed up at him adoringly from where she grovelled in the mud. "Yes, my Lord."

"Check the body," Voldemort ordered. Bellatrix splashed forward on her knees. Her breathing was heavy – heavier than mine – as she bent down to check Harry's pulse.

"He's not dead!"

The whole night froze solid.

Harry leapt to his feet, snatched Bellatrix's wand right out of her hand and pointed it at Voldemort, screaming a spell–

"No matter."

Voldemort flicked his wand lazily. The clearing exploded with light. Each raindrop caught it, reflecting and refracting it, lighting up the night like one thousand spells had been cast, all blinding and green. Harry hit the dirt, his mouth open, his wand armed raised, pride and glory blazing in his lifeless eyes.

"He is now."

I could not cry. I could not feel. I could do nothing. I could only stand there, frozen as the night, under the Invisibility Cloak, gazing at Harry's body… Harry's corpse.

With the great, groaning crack of the oldest tree crashing to the forest floor, inside me, something broke.

Harry was dead.

A great shout of victory went up. It went on forever and ever, with yells and laughs and cries and explosions and stomping and clapping, so loud the very ground beneath my feet shook. Or perhaps it was me who was shaking.

"Draco," Voldemort purred. "Come here."

Malfoy was no fool. He took one look at Voldemort, and ran, blasting Rookwood out of his way. But he had hardly gotten two metres before Crabbe and Goyle, his old cronies, tackled him to the ground. His wand went flying. With a determined step of his polished boot, Lucius Malfoy snapped it clean in two.

"Crucio."

Malfoy writhed and shrieked on the ground beside me. Muddy water splattered my boots. All the Death Eaters were watching him, laughing and jeering. They wore no masks no, they had no need to. In the new regime, Death Eaters were honoured. The curse went on forever and forever, until Malfoy stopped screaming and lay still, rain pounding his face, in too much pain to move.

"Get up, Draco," Voldemort whispered, lifting the curse.

Malfoy didn't move.

"CRUCIO!"

His screams made my ears bleed. The rain poured down.

"I said get up, Draco."

I watched Malfoy struggle to his knees. His face was bloody and his sleek blonde hair black with filth. Something gold glinted in his clenched fist.

"Lord Voldemort is waiting, Draco."

Crabbe and Goyle circled Malfoy like vultures, waiting for their turn with the carcass. He would not have a chance to use the Time-turner before they got to him, and he knew it. He looked up, his eyes flickering around the clearing.

"Weasel," he croaked. "Weasel?"

The Death Eaters laughed, thinking he was cracking under the torture. I knew better. But how could I alert Malfoy of my position without betraying myself to the Death Eaters? I had nothing to defend myself with. I didn't even have a wand. They would kill me in a heartbeat.

If I was lucky.

"Weasel!"

Malfoy lurched forward, first on his feet, then all fours, finally dragging himself on his stomach towards the circle's edge while Voldemort looked on in cold amusement. He waited until Malfoy had inched himself within a foot of perimeter before giving his wand the slightest flick. Malfoy flew ten feet into the air and slammed back into the ground. Something gold leaked from his limp fingers.

"Weasel... " he choked.

"Enough!" Bellatrix screeched, raising her wand, but Voldemort whispered, "Wait!"

He had seen it. He had seen the Time-turner.

"And what do we have here?"

I made my decision in a split second. Death held no fear for me now. Should I meet my end, I would see my family again, and I would see Harry. My weapons were surprise and rage. They had taken everything from me. I had nothing left to lose.

I took a common rock from the forest floor and crashed it, with all my might, against Yaxley's head. I felt bone crunch and hot blood geysered into my face. He fell backward with a gurgling cry and I snatched his wand from his slackened grip, kicking Dolohov in the knee as I leapt up over Yaxley's crumpled form and out of the circle, jabbing the stolen wand over my shoulder, yelling,

"ACCIO TIME-TURNER!"

I slipped in the mud and fell hard, splashing to the forest floor, the cloak tangling around my legs.

Chaos erupted.

Everyone could see me. Everyone could see the tiny golden Time-turner spinning through the air. Magic lit up the night, but every curse missed, and I thrust my hand, palm open, up into the air to catch it.

If I went back in time just one hour, I could save Harry. If I went back just one year, I could save Dumbledore and everyone who had died over the past year. If I went back just four years, I could stop Voldemort rising again. If I went back eighteen years, I could save Harry's parents.

"He killed my mother." Somehow, Malfoy's voice reached me through the anarchy. "Kill him."

Its tiny hourglass still spinning, the Time-turner's chain fell down over my waiting arm – Voldemort shrieked – and everything went black.

...

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice

...

The sun was spying on me through gaps in the trees when I woke.

I had not seen sunlight for days. Ignoring the pain in my chest, I rolled onto my back and spread my arms wide. The ground was warm and dry, and there was a light carpet of summer grass. I lay there, completely still, and let the warmth wash all over my body, let it seep right through to my cold bones, my colder heart.

I closed my eyes and saw Harry. Dead.

I cried until I exhausted my tears, and then some, and with every droplet that soaked into the dirt I vowed that I would get revenge, for Harry, for Draco, for myself; that I would not rest until Voldemort burned with the same fire that consumed my poor, tattered heart.

Make things right? There was no such thing as right – I knew that now. There was justice, pure and primitive. An eye for an eye. A heart for a heart, and Tom Riddle had broken mine twice.

I ignored the stabbing pain in my side. I ignored the dull ache in my heart. I had to get out of the Forbidden Forest. I had to find Hogwarts, find Dumbledore, find a wand, find Riddle. I knew the school couldn't be that far away; the light filtering through the tree was strong.

Full of fresh determination, I forced myself to my knees. I wasn't ready for standing. One hand clamped around my side, I struggled down the path on my knees. There was a bend in path twenty yards from where I had been lying. I rounded it and saw Hogwarts through the thinning trees.

It was so close.

I crumbled and sobbed, facedown in the mud.

...

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice

...

I drifted on a sea of nothingness, occasionally surfacing enough to hear voices through a veil, voices that I remembered from some long-forgotten dream–

"I found her, Professor Dumbledore, sir. At the edge of the Forbidden Forest. She was jus' lyin' there. I dunno where she came from."

"Alas, neither do I."

"Will she be all righ', sir? She don't look too good."

"We shall see, Hagrid. Time will tell. You did well bringing her up to castle immediately."

"Thank yeh, sir ..."

I had no concept of time-passing, day and night, minutes and hours, they were all the same as I lay, suspended, occasional voices penetrating my stupor–

"Whatever shall we do with her, Albus? I have never seen her before. It is almost as if she materialised out of thin air!"

"Indeed, Armando. But I do not think it was out of thin air that she materialised."

"But what shall we do with her? She can't possibly stay here. Not at Hogwarts."

"On the contrary, I believe it imperative that she remains here. You know as well as I do that she must be of magical birth. No Muggle could find Hogwarts."

"If you say so. But you must see to her, Albus. She is your responsibility. Merlin knows I have enough to do. Especially after the events of last year ..."

I was growing stronger, I could feel it, all the blunt edges sharpening. I lay in the darkness and made lists, plots and plans; I dreamed up new names, new brothers and sisters, new lives; and all the while, way down below, a fire simmered and swelled, waiting to be fed.

"She is healing well, Albus. I am positive there will be no lasting injuries."

"No lingering effects of any kind?"

"Physically, she ought to make a full recovery, save some minimal scarring. Those marks on her neck... It's too late to use Dittany on them, unfortunately. Mentally, I can't say. I can only imagine what kind of state her mind in. Albus – some of those curses, I have never heard of. How can that be?"

"I have only theories, Marian, each more wild than the last ..."

...

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice

...

I woke, sudden and sharp, like a deep-sea diver finally breaching the surface. I felt so awake, so aware, and I sat bolt upright. My lungs lit up with white-hot agony. I could barely breathe. I flailed about, my hands disinclined to carry out my brain's orders, reaching for my wand – only to remember I had lost it.

That I had lost everything.

I crumbled against the pillows, unable to support myself as my chest turned into a vacuum, prompted by the gaping hole in my heart. The lights were dim but my eyes stung and watered. My mouth felt like cotton wool, sour and rusty from disuse.

"Calm yourself, child. You are in the infirmary of Hogwarts' School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It is ten o'clock on August the sixteenth, if you want to know. You have been asleep for almost two weeks." Above me, someone was talking. I recognised the voice, I would have recognised it anywhere. "You've been through quite an ordeal, but don't worry," he continued. "You are safe here."

I cracked my eyes open further, searching for him. Out of the half-light, he emerged, but not as the old man I remembered. He looked younger, much younger. His hair and beard were auburn and his face less wrinkled, but the blue eyes behind the spectacles were, unmistakably, the same.

"What is your name?" Dumbledore asked gently.

I opened my mouth, ready with my lies, but no sound came out. Dumbledore conjured a glass of water from thin air and helped me drink. Greedily, I gulped it down. It tasted like Heaven.

"What is your name?" he repeated.

"Gin– " I croaked. My voice was cracked and weak. "Ginevra … Ginevra."

Ginny was a little girl's name, a pet name, sweet and playful. Ginny was gone.

"And what is your family name, Ginevra?"

A surname was more than just a name in the Wizarding World, it was a definition. I needed a harmless surname, something truly unremarkable. I said the fist thing that popped into my head.

"It's de Valera, sir. Ginevra de Valera."

De Valera. The name of Seamus' favourite Chaser from the Kenmare Kestrels.

Dumbledore looked like he believed me. I was a good liar, I always had been; with six older brothers I learnt that lesson early. That said, I was in no condition to put up mental barriers around my mind like Harry had thought me–

Harry.

Pain rippled through me like a curse but I forced it to the back of my mind. There would be time to grieve, time to give myself over to the pain and the tears, time to curl up in the dark – but now was not that time.

"Are you all aright, Miss de Valera?"

I forced a smile. "I will be."

I answered Dumbledore's questions on autopilot, giving monosyllabic answers about my imaginary life. He asked what had brought me, beaten and bloody, to Hogwarts – a reasonable request, by anyone's standards. Dumbledore was only trying to help, but I couldn't tell him the truth. Hermione had warned me about meddling with time; I wasn't about to be sent to Azkaban. Perhaps I would tell him the truth in time, but right now I needed Dumbledore to think I was just a lost little girl and a threat to nobody.

The thought brought laughter to my lips, bitter and cold.

He surveyed me over his interlinked fingers, waiting for my reply.

I needed to play my cards right. I needed his sympathy, his pity, his compassion. "My family are dead, sir. They're all dead." My hands trembled in my lap. My voice was thick and hoarse. "Dark wizards came and murdered them, in front of me. They tortured me but I escaped. I ran away … The last thing I remember was running. Then I woke up here."

Dumbledore took my hand in his. "I am sorry for your loss, Miss de Valera, truly."

I hadn't intended to cry, but now I couldn't stop. The tears streamed silently down my cheeks, hot and salty. I wiped them away roughly.

He gave me a moment to compose myself, before continuing, "We have quite a situation on our hands here, as I'm sure you'll understand. What do you think we should do about it?"

It hardly merited thinking – I had to stay at Hogwarts. It was the only place I knew, and Dumbledore was here. So long as I was with Dumbledore, I was safe. I could get a grasp of the situation, gather information on Riddle and his current whereabouts, and then formulate a plan for his destruction.

"I would like to stay here, sir," I said hesitantly. "Until I've recovered."

"Of course you shall stay here until you're recovered. It is what happens next that I am concerned with," Dumbledore said. "Should you wish to, you could stay on and finish your magical education as a Hogwarts student. Professor Dippet is partial to the idea, once you passed some tests of magical aptitude. In these troubled times, the outside world is no place for an orphan."

I plastered a worried frown across my face, concealing my elation. This was even easier than I had anticipated.

"Yes, sir … But I don't have a wand."

"Why not?"

Dumbledore's expression was unreadable.

"I suppose I lost it," I confessed.

It was not a lie, but not the whole truth either. I thought it the safest option, as Dumbledore, generous as he was, might doubt my sanity if I told him the fashion in which I had broken it – jammed it up Fenrir Greyback's eye socket as he leapt, half-transformed, jaws wide, for my throat. It had sunk in, then snapped under his weight as he crashed, dead, on top of my chest. Lupin had died that night.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "You suppose you lost it?"

"I did… lose it," I amended blandly.

My jaw clenched, I awaited his judgement.

"In that case, a trip to Diagon Alley is in order." I stared at him, incapable of speech. Dumbledore smiled warmly and his eyes twinkled, just like the man I remembered. "Welcome to Hogwarts, Miss de Valera."

My throat swelled uncomfortably, and I didn't trust myself to speak. I didn't want to cry, not again. I bit my lip.

Dumbledore stood up. "If you'll excuse me, I have to go and inform Headmaster Dippet of your awakening. When you have your wand, we can see about assessing your standard of magic and decide on a suitable year for you."

"When will I get my wand, sir?" I asked quickly, my voice urgent, even greedy. The thought of holding a wand again made my fingers tingle. Without one, I didn't feel quite whole.

"Patience, Miss de Valera," he chided gently. "You have been through a great ordeal. To see you restored to full health is our first concern." Right on cue, a motherly-looking woman in robes like Madame Pomfrey's came bustling up the ward to my bed. She put her hands on her hips and pursed her lips, frowning at Dumbledore from under the brim of her tartan-trimmed hat. "Isn't that right, Marian?"

"'Tis indeed, Albus," agreed Madame MacGreggor fervently in her thick Scottish accent. I hoped she was not as mollycoddling as Madame Pomfrey. I planned on leaving the Hospital Wing before Christmas. Dumbledore tipped his hat to us and turn to stride down the hospital when I called out to him.

It had suddenly dawned on me that I hadn't the faintest idea what year it was.

"Professor?"

Dumbledore paused. "Yes?"

"Could I borrow your newspaper, please?"

"But of course. Though I must confess, I have already done the crossword."

He handed me a rolled copy of the Daily Prophet and bade Madame MacGreggor good-day. I relaxed into my pillows and unfurled the paper, scanning the front page.

August 16th, 1943.

My insides turned to ice. Dread filled me, pumping through my veins until every cubic inch of me was covered in an arctic sweat. Darkness ate away at my vision.

He killed my mother … Kill him

Draco Malfoy's last words echoed in my ears, reverberating around my skull, shattering the ice around my heart and kindling that baby flame deep within my belly. It was not grief that consumed me now, but a fierce burning anger, an insatiable desire for revenge.