After a week-long intermission, the story resumes! The trigger warning at the beginning of chapter one has, on further consideration, been updated.

9.03 ATLANTIS

9.04 BUREAUCRACY

9.05 CHANCE

9.06 DEATH

9.00 EGRESS

9.07 FORCE

9.02 HUB

9.08 MINDS

9.09 OCEANS

9.10 PROPHECY (decommissioned, pending replacement)

9.11 LOVE

9.12 REALITY

9.13 SPACE

9.14 TIME

9.15 WORLDS

9.01 ZERO

Zacharias Smith was revived shortly after the attack. The good news was that no further students were petrified for the remainder of the term, or during the winter holidays. The bad news was that interviews with Zacharias revealed no new information that could lead to Cedric, Justin, and Ernie's killer being apprehended. The worse news was that, against the express wishes of the Hogwarts administration, rumors circulated that St. Mungo's had neglected to manufacture more than one Potion of Reanimation. They were very expensive to brew, which explained their being in short supply, but they were also very time-consuming to brew, which allowed even curable petrification to be a greater threat than it would be, had the healers bothered to keep a large reserve supply.

Just one day later, Luna Lovegood – who was wearing gloves herself, coated in Diricawl feathers – returned the diary to Ginevra Weasley, whilst smiling.

"So what have you figured out?" said Ginny.

"I owled it to my dad," said Luna. "And he sent it back with this letter, which explains what it is and how to take care of it. I'll give it to you so you can find out what it is and how to take care of it."

"Thank you," said Ginny, and she accepted the parchment, though of course she wouldn't read it. The Lovegoods were insane, especially in matters like this, and Xenophilius was the reason why.

"I'll just sum up the major points," said Luna. "It's called a horcrux; it contains a soul fragment of a human being and only a very advanced dark wizard can make one."

"Sure, Luna," said Ginny.

"It's very difficult to destroy," said Luna. "I included a list of things you can use to destroy it if the need arises, although I don't think you personally have access to any of them. Oh, and it can possess people. Normally a horcrux can possess people with impunity, as long as they touch it, but this one's been specially enchanted not to possess anyone who hasn't consented. Dad says he hasn't seen anything like it. Of course I haven't consented to be possessed, but I'm still wearing these gloves just to be safe." Ginny glanced at Luna's hands, saw no gloves, and took a step back. "That's why you're wearing gloves, too, right?"

"Uh huh," said Ginny.

"But you didn't consent to be possessed either," said Luna.

"What, no, what are you talking about?" said Ginny.

"Ginny Weasley, I swear to Wizard God if you wind up as some Dark Lord's possessed stooge because you signed your brain away like an idiot, I will hang you from the rafters," said Luna, and then she clapped her hands over her mouth. "I didn't mean – I'm sorry -"

"No, Luna, it's fine," said Ginny. "You're right to be concerned. This is serious business. But I haven't signed my life away. I know to be conscientious. You've helped me to see that more than anyone."

"Okay," said Luna; she particularly perked up at this last sentiment. "I just - I mean, I thought it was probably some kind of serious risk. He tried to get me to agree to possession, and I barely managed to distract him by talking about unimportant things like Divination and what a creep Lesath is."

"Alright," said Ginny. "I'll keep everything you've told me in mind. Goodbye!"

Ginny later found out from Tim that Luna had been particularly unhelpful, paranoid, and unpleasant to talk to, and was not a true Seer. Ginny felt sorry for Luna, but couldn't argue with any of Tim's points. She soon began making progress with her Sapespeck computing, through a combination of Muggle maths textbooks, some programming help from Colin (who she still managed to keep out of the loop), and her own personal discovery of Sapespeck Maxima, a Charm that made editing large Sapespeck systems easier.

By the time classes resumed in January, she had constructed a more advanced calculator capable of adding - as well as subtracting - any indefinitely long sequence of numbers. It could parse negative numbers as well as decimals; she had held off on supporting fractions until she had a better grasp on what division was, though she had added case-by-case patches for phrases like "and a half", "and a quarter", and so on, which were interpreted, for example, as "point five", "point two five", and so on. Coming down the pipeline, though, on a different sheet of paper, was limited support for multiplication. Ginny could feel the features creeping along like Eclipse Ivy, and she loved it. If she could make an inanimate object smarter than herself, then she would.

Just before the spring term began, a notice went out to all students that Professor Lockhart was running a Patronus workshop, targeted primarily at first years, but also accepting older students who had either failed or not attempted to cast a Patronus the previous year. Participating, however, required a parent's signature on a permission slip, as the workshop would be held in the Department of Mysteries. This was not difficult for Ginny to obtain.

"Frankly, it's safer than Hogwarts," said Arthur, as he signed. "I've been to the Department of Mysteries before; they were showing me Grabthar's Hammer in the Force Room. They thought they were on the verge of reverse-engineering it and they thought it might be possible to construct more of them without even using magic, so they were investigating the possibility that Muggles might figure it out. I think it's further off than they seemed to think – but anyway, my point is, you'll be herded around by Unspeakables at all time; you'll only go where you're supposed to. There are dangerous things in the Department of Mysteries, but you wouldn't be able to get anywhere near them even if you wanted to."

The fact that no students were petrified during the Christmas break seemed to Ginny to be weak evidence that the culprit was someone who, like her, had chosen to go home during the holidays. The administration did not even take it that way, though; it would be too easy for the attacker to put off their crimes a month to push investigations away from themselves. In any case, Ginny had more important things on her mind – how could she live with herself if she wound up with a standard old Patronus while Harry and Hermione remained the only two people in the world with upgraded human Patronuses?

"Well, Ginny, a Patronus is a journey of personal discovery and self-actualization," said Harry.

"Don't you give me that, Harry Potter," said Ginny. "That's not how you talk. You're hiding something. How do I get a human Patronus?"

"It's complicated and dangerous to teach," said Harry. "Even just giving you a bad hint could lead to your being permanently unable to cast any kind of Patronus."

"You taught her," said Ginny.

"I can't just teach anyone," said Harry. Ginny pouted, and Harry got the look on his face that he always did when he was beginning an experiment. "Well, though... I'll give you one hint. But don't be too disappointed if you wind up with a regular old animal Patronus. It's still better than nothing, if you wind up in a combat situation where a Patronus is needed or if you need to contact someone or confirm that they're alive. And don't tell anyone the hint, or even that I gave you one. I don't want to be mobbed by more requests like this."

"What's the hint?" said Ginny, although she would really rather be able to cast nothing at all than be able to cast an animal Patronus only. People who couldn't cast Patronuses were at least dark and deep and brooding.

"A regular animal Patronus is powered by a happy memory of the past," said Harry. "The True Patronus, the Patronus Two Point Oh, is powered by a happy plan for the future."

"Okay, got it," said Ginny, and she smiled. Harry seemed disappointed in her nonchalant approach to hearing this wisdom, and left.

Ginny sucked in her breath. She'd largely avoided Hermione, out of some kind of uncontrollable, irrational hatred. It was a source of some regret for her, and in retrospect had feelings had spiraled beyond anything reasonable, but nonetheless, she would definitely make an exception to her "steer-clear-of-Hermione" policy now. She had something practical to accomplish.

"Hi, Hermione," said Ginny.

"Ginny Weasley?" said Hermione. "Hello, I haven't seen much of you!"

"Is that so," muttered Ginny, and Hermione nearly left for the Ravenclaw table, because it wasn't completely clear that she still had something to say. "There's something Harry asked me to ask you."

"Oh?" said Hermione.

"I asked Harry how to make a Patronus like his, and he gave me – me exclusively, that is – a hint, and he told me to ask you for another one," said Ginny.

"Is that so?" said Hermione, and Ginny nodded. "Hmm... Dementors are a riddle, and the upgraded Patronus is the answer. Or is that the hint he already gave you?" Ginny nodded; if she was going to lie to get extra hints, she might as well get three instead of two. "Alright, then... Harry's Patronus was directly tied to my resurrection." Ginny was barely able to prevent her mouth from hanging open. "I hope that was helpful! Goodbye!"

How on Earth could Ginny even hope to compete with a girl Harry had literally brought back from the brink of death with a historic spell of his own invention?

"Wait! Hermione!" said Ginny.

"What?" said Hermione.

"What are your views on the existence of an afterlife?" asked Ginny.

"Of course not," said Hermione, immediately flustered. "I mean, you're not trying to weasel more hints out of me? Are you?"

"No," said Ginny. "I've just been thinking about it lately."

"Oh," said Hermione. "Harry told me about you. Between you and me, I think you can believe whatever you want, but, personally, I don't believe in that. For a brief while, my faith in that actually shot up after I, y'know, came back to life, but Harry broke the illusion for me. He had to. Visions that can be interpreted as an afterlife are reasonably common in people who have near-death experiences, but it's a purely neurochemical phenomenon, not supernatural at all."

"Oh," said Ginny. A single sub-belief point of evidence for a deeply-held belief will not invalidate that belief if it is itself invalidated. Do not allow that fear to prevent you from updating your beliefs, or even allow it to make you more skeptical of facts that broadly suggest that your deeply-held beliefs are wrong.

"And anyway, no, that's not for me," said Hermione. "I haven't seen a good debate about it, ever, but I do know what my position is. I think Harry is being monstrously unfair to you, by the way; if you feel the same, then feel free to talk to me about it. Is there anything else you want to talk about now? I really do need to get to the Ravenclaw Table, or they'll wonder where I am and my food will get cold."

"Um, no," said Ginny. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye," said Hermione, and she left. Ginny considered the fact that Hermione was not much like she had imagined her to be, but she did not reflect on it.

The True Patronus is powered not by a memory but by a plan.

It is the answer to the riddle of the Dementor.

It pertains to resurrection.

Ginny repeated these three things in her head, over and over, for an entire day. She repeated them to herself as she slept, and she repeated them to herself as she stepped in a single file line consisting of most of her class and a few older students, through a fireplace, to the Ministry of Magic. Gilderoy Lockhart was waiting for her on the other side, and once his role call was complete, he guided his young students as a group through the main lobby, past a checkpoint, and to the Ministry's elevator, which had dozens of seats and moved forwards and backwards and left and right just as much as it moved up and down.

"LEVEL NINE, DEPARTMENT OF MYSTERIES," read a calm, cool, and distinctly unsettling voice, when they had reached their final destination. The only conclusion Ginny had thus far gathered from her hints was that Dementors were a manifestation of an abstract concept, and that the True Patronus was somehow powered by your approach to solving the non-magical form of that abstract concept. It was known to happen that magical creatures would originate as manifestations of abstract concepts; phoenixes, for example, were representations of a promise of eternity. For this reason, depictions of them were common decorations in churches and on wedding invitations.

"Hello, Lockhart," said one Unspeakable, who appeared to distinctly distrust the Defense Professor.

"Hello, Croaker," said Professor Lockhart.

"You're here for the Dementor exercise, correct?" said Unspeakable Croaker.

"Indeed," said Lockhart, and his smile just wouldn't stop.

"You have delivered the lecture on the properties of Dementors, and on how to produce a normal Patronus?" said Croaker.

"Of course," said Lockhart, and he nodded broadly.

"Follow me," said Croaker, to the entire group from Hogwarts, and he led them into the Department of Mysteries proper, which Ginny's father had described to her.

It was a large circular room, with eleven featureless doors, twelve if you counted the one the class had just walked through, evenly spaced around the room's circumference. Each of the doors had an Unspeakable standing in front of it, wand drawn; they took shifts so that each door was guarded at all times. It simply wouldn't do if someone could sneak in after hours. There was a large circle drawn on the floor, just short of the edge of the room.

"Is that Amortentia?" said a Gryffindor named Romilda Vane, and she pointed at a door that had a strong magical aura emanating from it.

"Yes," said Professor Lockhart, quietly. "An entire fountain of it." Romilda stood in awe. Something about the magical signature didn't seem right to Ginny. She supposed she didn't know how the magical signature compounded in such a large quantity. But come to think of it, how had they gotten such a large quantity? Amortentia took serious sacrifice to create; how many wizards had lost their magic and their wands to power the Love Room? The Love Room was the one where they would keep Amortentia, right?

"We cannot confirm or deny that at this time," said the Unspeakable in front of the Love Room, who was wearing completely opaque black glasses.

"Everyone stand inside the red circle," said Unspeakable Croaker. "As close to the center of the room as possible." Ginny looked down, and saw that they were all well within it; Unspeakable Croaker closed the door to the outside world, and immediately, all of the Unspeakables in the room disappeared, along with the doors they were guarding. A few seconds later, they reappeared, but they were all scrambled; their positions and their order were completely different.

"Dementors this way," said one Unspeakable, who sent up sparks to attract the students' attention, and the door behind him opened a crack. The crowd made its way over to the Unspeakable, whose head was obscured by a cloud of smoke that didn't seem to leave his head, and stepped through the door into the Death Room.

"Jeepers!" said Colin, pointing at the enormous triangular stone structure at the bottom of the chamber's chasm. "Is that the Veil?" A black surface rippled and fluttered between the two lines.

"Yes, absolutely," said Professor Lockhart.

"We cannot confirm or deny that at this time," said the Unspeakable, and he guided them away from the chasm towards a more nondescript corridor, which was very long and was also made of stone, though it was less arcane than the Veil chamber. It led to a smaller, even less arcane room that had wood trim and pleasant lighting. There was a heavy stone door that the Unspeakable glanced at expectantly. "Behind this door is a pit containing all known Dementor specimens remaining after the purge of Azkaban."

"How do you keep Nundus from forming?" interrupted Colin, who was roundly shushed.

"There are not nearly enough Dementors present for the formation of a Nundu," said the Unspeakable. "And even if there were, we are not planning to perform an execution here any time soon, or ever. As I was saying, a pair of Unspeakables will escort a Dementor to this room momentarily, and you will take turns to face it one-on-one. Everyone who isn't currently facing the Dementor will wait in the hall."

"A Dementor's Kiss is required to initiate Nundu formation," explained Professor Lockhart, to Colin, during a lull. Soon thereafter, the room was evacuated of all except Karissa, who was going first. Ginny could feel the Dementor's presence, even though she was not looking at it. It was a distinctly wrong feeling, exactly what she expected, but real. It told her intuitively to flee better than any Boggart could, but she knew she would face it and overcome it. What could it possibly represent? Soon Ginny heard Karissa shout something, and there was a glow opposite the Dementor's, and Karissa returned triumphant.

Some weren't so lucky. The group was about evenly split between those able and those unable to produce Patronuses, though it was invariably found that those who had tried and failed last year failed just as hard now. Among those who were carried out of the room unconscious was Colin; this was not a surprise for Ginny, who hadn't really thought him the type in the first place. And absolutely no one produced a Patronus with the brilliant glow or perfect form of Harry's (or Hermione's).

"It's your turn, Miss Weasley," said Professor Lockhart. "Good luck." Ginny stepped forward, having suppressed as many of her nerves as she could.

Well, it's obvious what you are, thought Ginny, as the cloaked figure appeared before her. You're Evil. Capital-E Evil. That's what you personify. You exist to cause negative utility, you're not supposed to exist, and you even look more demonic than any other magical creature I've seen. It's not that hard to figure out. So, then, how do I solve you? Or, rather, how would Harry solve you? How would Harry solve evil?

No, no, thought Ginny. That's the wrong way to think about it altogether. You can't make a Patronus using Occlumency. The Defense Professor said so. How would I solve evil? What's my plan to deal with it? What does my worldview say? The symptoms of Dementor exposure were already sinking in. It was becoming a little harder to think, though Ginny was pushing through.

God has already dealt with you, thought Ginny. Your game is up. Your price was paid in full on the cross, and any suffering you cause can therefore only be temporary. The idea that you are still an existential threat to anyone is an illusion, and I see through that illusion. (Is something wrong? This isn't how Harry would think about this. No, push on.) I know the truth.

I believe that the Lord God created the universe, thought Ginny. I believe that He sent His only son to die for my sins. I believe that the line of Christ contains all wizardkind! You have no place here!

"Expecto Patronum!" shouted Ginny, as loudly as her lungs could currently provide. Her wand had been correctly raised, but nothing came out. She glanced diagonally downwards, otherwise frozen, expecting reality to correct itself.

What? thought Ginny. No, try again. I believe that Satan has a hold on you! I believe that the Lord God has sent me here! I believe-

Ginny finally fainted.

We didn't agree to this! We didn't agree to this! But I did... Oh God, I'm a murderer. Save me. Kill me. I need to be killed, I mustn't threaten anyone... They're dead... It's my fault... I trusted you. I'm going to wind up not remembering any of this, and I won't be able to protect anyone from myself then. Or you. The Chamber's going to keep opening, and opening, and opening, and we're going to keep killing, and killing, and killing... I did kill Cedric, after all, and now how many of his friends? You lied to me and I should have seen through it. But how, in Parseltongue - here he comes. Is Obliviation like dying?

The baby looked up at its towering parents and the healer, and they had a strange conversation using strange words that it could not understand, but could remember, somewhere in the deep recesses of its infant brain, where only the memory magic of a conceptual being could recover it, and even then, only for the purposes of torture.

"I can offer a mass Obliviation-" said the healer.

"I want my son back," said Arthur.

"Any kind of human Transfiguration is very dangerous," said the healer. "We're already very lucky that she's stabilized." Arthur made a reflexive stabbing motion that he'd picked up watching Muggle criminals who had to rely on Muggle weapons. "It would be risking the child's life all over again."

"And it's not risking the child's life to leave him like this?" said Molly, through her tears.

"No," said the healer. "Particularly given the function of eagle's splendor."

"What does eagle's splendor have to do with this?" said Molly, exactly simultaneously with her husband's similar utterance: "Who said anything about a potion of eagle's splendor?"

"Healers know things, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley," said the healer, "even if we are legally prevented from disclosing them. In most cases, at least; an exception might be made here seeing as a child was endangered. But the significance of eagle's splendor's function is that it causes the body's appearance to match the mind's ideal."

"Enough!" said Arthur. "If you can't reverse the effect, what can you do?"

"As I was saying, I can offer a mass Obliviation applied to all friends and family, everyone who'd know, so that they're unaware that your daughter was ever any different," said the healer.

"My daughter is the third seventh son," said Molly, and she practically spit. There was a pause.

"I'm sorry," said the healer. The baby looked up at its mother, who was the most upset it had ever seen her. Its mother looked back, but this did nothing to alleviate her distress; in fact, she had a look of disgust about her.

What's wrong, Mother? Why don't you recognize me? Why don't you recognize me? Why don't-